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Superstars You Would Have Chosen (except TJP)

#1161 User is offline   d e s i r e Icon

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Posted 20 July 2017 - 10:44 PM

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The scene opens up to the sight of none other than Roman Reigns, who made one Hell of an impact upon his debut earlier tonight. This video, however, was recorded prior to that, as the Big Dog was still preparing to shock the PCW Universe. And it's clear he's taking it rather seriously as his gaze is cast down at the hard, concrete floor beneath his feet. Pulling his glove up, Roman clenches his fist before quickly opening his hand, doing this a number of times. Cocking his head slightly to the side, the Big Dog begins to speak, though his eyes remain on the ground for now.

Man, things are about to get a lot more interesting 'round here... And the best part is? They don't even know it yet.” Roman remarks, a small smirk finding its way onto his bearded face as he continues. “They don't even know I'm back here, getting ready to go out there and kick some ass. Which just makes it that much more interesting, if you ask me. 'Cause two things are gonna' happen once my music hits, and I march down those steps.” Roman states, then extending his index finger as he continues. “First off? That whole damn arena is gonna' go dead silent out of shock.” Roman pops his middle finger up now, holding both up as he continues. “And then? Once they manage to pick all their jaws up off the floor? They're gonna' have to make a decision. Right there, in the heat of the moment, they're gonna' have to choose whether they're gonna' cheer me on, or try to boo me right out of this building. And either way it goes? I can't wait.” Roman says, smirking again. “See, 'cause whether they boo me or cheer me, whether they love me or hate me, the fact of the matter is simple. I go out there, and I get one of the biggest, loudest reactions of anybody in this business. It don't matter if they're chanting my name or telling me I suck; at the end of the day? They're all on their feet, and they're all makin' noise, because of me.” Roman's confidence is clear here tonight as he smirks, rolling his shoulders in a shrug before continuing. “So obviously, I must be doing something right. If I'm gettin' all those people up out of their seats, I must be doing SOMETHING right - and I think that's what eats people up the most. All my critics, all my haters, they look at the fact that I get the entire arena going on a nightly basis and it eats them up inside, 'cause it goes against every dumbass thing they wanna' say about me. But they're too proud to admit it, so they keep saying it anyways. But hey, that's cool. That's alright. 'Cause you know what?” Roman begins, slowly shaking his head as he continues. “I don't really give a damn what they have to say. Hell, if anything? They're all only adding fuel to my fire, 'cause every time I hear someone chant "Roman Sucks"? It makes me go that much harder out in that ring. It only makes me want to break my opponent in half THAT much more, so hey. If they wanna' boo me? If they wanna' try and tell me I suck? They can go right ahead, 'cause the only person they're hurting is the other guy.” Roman says, shrugging unapologetically. “And as for everyone else? All the people who believe in the Roman Empire, who love and support me every step of the way? Y'all better strap in, because it's gonna' be a wild ride, straight to the top. And once we get there? It ain't gonna' matter if it's Cody Rhodes or Jay Briscoe I gotta' punch in the face; I will be the PCW World Heavyweight Champion, a whole lot sooner than later. 'Cause as everyone's about to find out? This is my yard now.

Roman lifts his gloved hand up now in front of the camera, his fist clenched in an all-too familiar way. Staring right into the camera, he offers two final words to the viewing audience.

Believe that.

As he linger in front of the camera, Roman shifts his fist into a hand gun gesture instead, "shooting" at the camera. With a smirk upon his face, the Big Dog turns and walks off, and a moment later the sound of an actual gun being cocked can be heard, followed by a theme that very few ever expected to hear in PCW as the scene fades out.

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Posted 21 July 2017 - 03:04 PM

Lights, camera, action.

And just like that, Turmoil is live, and there's no mistaking that fact as the scene opens up to ringside, and all the thousands of fans who have gathered in attendance here tonight. All on their feet, they're cheering wildly, some even holding up their own, hand-drawn or written signs in support of their favorite superstars. Needless to say, the crowd is already amped up here tonight, and what happens next only adds fuel to that fire.



The sound of a gun being cocked is followed immediately by the sound of Jim Johnston's "The Truth Reigns", which heralds the arrival of the Big Dog himself, Roman Reigns! But even before they catch sight of him, the fans are offering their opinions on Roman, ranging from excited cheers to hate-filled boos. These reactions only grow louder once they've actually located Reigns, as the camera cuts over to find him standing at the top of the stairs that the fans traverse to reach their seats. His long, dark hair pulled back into a neat man bun on the back of his head, Roman looks around at the crowd as they shower him with boos and cheers alike, responding with only a smirk before beginning his descent toward the ring. As he reaches the arena floor, Reigns vaults over the barricade with ease, landing on his feet an immediately making for the ring. Climbing the steel steps, he slips into the ring between the ropes, and proceeds to gesture for a microphone. Upon being handed one by a nearby ringside assistant, Roman takes to the center of the squared circle, where he waits several moments both for his music to fade out, and for the fans to die down. Smirking still as he looks around at the crowd, Roman quickly wets his lips before speaking up.

ROMAN REIGNS
Huh. You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think some of y'all ain't too happy to see me.” Roman states, clearly poking fun at his detractors. Unsurprisingly, they respond with further boos, as well as a few "ROMAN SUCKS!" chants. Nonetheless, the Big Dog simply smirks in response, nodding his head as he continues. “Alright, alright, fair enough. Y'all don't have to like me... But sooner than later? You are gonna' respect me.” The boos are even louder this time, which brings that smirk back to Roman's face as he shakes his head. Waiting a moment for the crowd to quiet down, he continues. “'Cause after last week, I've proven that I can come out to this ring, stand toe to toe with some of Turmoil's best, and jack them right in the jaw.” Reigns says, holding up his gloved hand for the world to see. A mixture of boos and cheers fill the arena once more, and Roman waits a moment before continuing. “And that was just day one. So what do you think I'm gonna' do from here? What do you think I'm gonna' do on my way to becoming the World Heavyweight Champion?” Roman questions, prompting another mixed reaction; some in favor of the Big Dog one day becoming champ, while others certainly are not. Smirking again, he continues. “I'll tell you what I'm gonna' do, folks. I'm gonna' do anything and everything it takes to get that gold around my waist, no matter who I gotta' do it to.” Roman states, taking a moment to wet his lips before continuing. “Cody Rhodes? I'll spear him in half, and show him what an American Nightmare really looks like. Jay Briscoe? I'll beat his ass all over this ring, and send him back to Sandy Fork in pieces!” Roman exclaims, taking a more serious tone now as he continues. “And I'll do the same damn thing to anybody else who tries to get in my way. AJ Styles, Braun Strowman, John Cena - it don't matter to me who I've got to run through on my way to the top. I'll get there regardless, just like I always have. And not 'cause I've been handed anything, or 'cause someone up top's helping me out - nah. When I make it to the top of the mountain? It's gonna' be because I earned it, just like it's always been.” Another mixed reaction, prompting another smirk from the Big Dog who continues. “Yeah, that's right. Some of you know exactly what I'm talking about, some have been there every step of the way so far, and for that? From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. But as for the rest of y'all...” Roman smirks again, shaking his head as the fans jeer once more. Nodding, he continues. “Here's the deal. Y'all can boo me, you can jeer me, you can tell me I suck and all that other stuff... But at the end of the day? None of that changes the facts. None of it changes the fact that I am, by far, one of the most dominant competitors to step foot in this ring.” A mixed reaction, as is to be expected at this point. Shrugging unapologetically, Roman continues. “It doesn't change the fact that I've beaten some of the best this industry has to offer.” Another mixed reaction, though this point is a lot harder to argue against. It doesn't stop the crowd from trying, however. Smirking, Reigns carries on. “And it sure as Hell don't change the fact that, in a matter of time? I'll have done the same to every single guy back in that locker room. And once I've done that? I'm going after that World Heavyweight Championship, no matter who's holding it when the time comes. 'Cause frankly? It ain't gonna' make even the slightest difference. Whoever it is, I'll beat them just like I've beaten everybody else, and once I do that? I'm gonna' stand right here, in the middle of this ring, with that championship in my hands - and everyone's gonna' realize what I already know. That this?” Roman begins, looking at the ring around him before nodding and finishing his thought. “This is my yard now. Believe that.

With those final words, the Big Dog would allow his microphone to slip from his hand and hit the mat with an audible thud. A mere moment later, the sound of "The Truth Reigns" is blaring across the P.A. system once again, and the fans are showering Roman Reigns with a mixture of boos and cheers as he stands in the middle of the ring, in the middle of his yard, as Turmoil fades to commercial.

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#1163 User is online   The Villain Icon

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Posted 22 July 2017 - 04:24 AM



F A B U L O U S !

The crowd was immediately on their feet as they would hear that word being spelled out. The black curtains opened and through them would step the one and only CARMELLA! She had a huge smile on her face as she stood on the stage. She was wearing a black pair of pants with the word 'FABULOUS' written on the waist band. She had a half shirt covering her top half, and on her head was a backward black snapback. After standing there for a second the crowd would give her some cheers, she would keep that smile on her face as she began to skip down the ramp towards the ring. Reaching the steps quickly, she walked up them, walking along the apron. She stopped before stepping into the ring and would moonwalk backward, then stepped through the ropes into the ring. She walked over and was given a microphone. Now standing in the center of the ring, the crowd was still cheering, she gave a smile and a nod to them, acknowledging their admiration of her. Finally, she brought the microphone up to her lipstick covered lips, and she began to speak.

CARMELLA
"You all seem happy to see me! Why wouldn't you though, I am FABULOUS after all!"
The crowd heard the condescending down in her voice and immediately booed. This made her smile again, nodding to the crowd. "Oh, did you all think I was here for you? That's hilarious that you actually thought that! I am here for one person, and one person only. That person is CARMELLA!" After saying that she would laugh right into the microphone, and the crowd booed once again, she didn't take kindly to that at all, as she immediately screamed into the microphone. "SHUT UP! When the Princess of Staten Island is speaking, you all need to sit there and listen." Another comment that would immediately set the crowd off, they booed louder this time. She brought the microphone away from her mouth and gave a smirk to everyone. She was playing with their emotions and she knew it. She waited for a second, then she spoke once again. "That's what I thought! Now before I was so rudely interrupted, I was saying that I am here because my entire career I have been overlooked and under valued! I am sick and tired of other Women getting treated better than me. I deserve to be treated like the STAR that I am, and I will accept nothing less. That includes all of you, you don't have to love me, but you damn sure better respect me." The crowd didn't like to be told what to do, and once again the crowd gave a loud boo. Carmella just shook her head this time at their lack of respect. "Now, I am also here to better myself, and I couldn't do that in the previous company I was in. The previous company wanted to hold me down, they wouldn't allow me to reach my full potential. Here in Primetime Championship Wrestling, there's no one that is going to stop me from accomplishing my goals. There's no one to hold me back. I'm here by myself, and I'll be damned if I am going to fail. It doesn't matter what show I am on, whether it be Takedown or Turmoil, they know that they are getting themselves an asset. If I am on Takedown, I know I will be facing Women like Naomi, Sasha Banks, and Raquel Diaz. It doesn't get any easier on Turmoil, as I will be facing Alexa Bliss, Emma, and Peyton Royce. Those Women are great wrestlers, they are all very talented, but there's one thing that they are not. They are not ME! Capiche?"

She said that with a big smile, and she would drop the microphone as her theme would once again come over the speakers. The crowd once again booed as she stood there looking out at them, giving them a bit of a pose. After a few seconds, the camera would then fade to a commercial.

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Thanks Zach!
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#1164 User is offline   Killing The Fed Icon

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Posted 24 July 2017 - 05:00 AM

View PostDoctor Doom, on 20 July 2017 - 10:44 PM, said:

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The scene opens up to the sight of none other than Roman Reigns, who made one Hell of an impact upon his debut earlier tonight. This video, however, was recorded prior to that, as the Big Dog was still preparing to shock the PCW Universe. And it's clear he's taking it rather seriously as his gaze is cast down at the hard, concrete floor beneath his feet. Pulling his glove up, Roman clenches his fist before quickly opening his hand, doing this a number of times. Cocking his head slightly to the side, the Big Dog begins to speak, though his eyes remain on the ground for now.

Man, things are about to get a lot more interesting 'round here... And the best part is? They don't even know it yet.” Roman remarks, a small smirk finding its way onto his bearded face as he continues. “They don't even know I'm back here, getting ready to go out there and kick some ass. Which just makes it that much more interesting, if you ask me. 'Cause two things are gonna' happen once my music hits, and I march down those steps.” Roman states, then extending his index finger as he continues. “First off? That whole damn arena is gonna' go dead silent out of shock.” Roman pops his middle finger up now, holding both up as he continues. “And then? Once they manage to pick all their jaws up off the floor? They're gonna' have to make a decision. Right there, in the heat of the moment, they're gonna' have to choose whether they're gonna' cheer me on, or try to boo me right out of this building. And either way it goes? I can't wait.” Roman says, smirking again. “See, 'cause whether they boo me or cheer me, whether they love me or hate me, the fact of the matter is simple. I go out there, and I get one of the biggest, loudest reactions of anybody in this business. It don't matter if they're chanting my name or telling me I suck; at the end of the day? They're all on their feet, and they're all makin' noise, because of me.” Roman's confidence is clear here tonight as he smirks, rolling his shoulders in a shrug before continuing. “So obviously, I must be doing something right. If I'm gettin' all those people up out of their seats, I must be doing SOMETHING right - and I think that's what eats people up the most. All my critics, all my haters, they look at the fact that I get the entire arena going on a nightly basis and it eats them up inside, 'cause it goes against every dumbass thing they wanna' say about me. But they're too proud to admit it, so they keep saying it anyways. But hey, that's cool. That's alright. 'Cause you know what?” Roman begins, slowly shaking his head as he continues. “I don't really give a damn what they have to say. Hell, if anything? They're all only adding fuel to my fire, 'cause every time I hear someone chant "Roman Sucks"? It makes me go that much harder out in that ring. It only makes me want to break my opponent in half THAT much more, so hey. If they wanna' boo me? If they wanna' try and tell me I suck? They can go right ahead, 'cause the only person they're hurting is the other guy.” Roman says, shrugging unapologetically. “And as for everyone else? All the people who believe in the Roman Empire, who love and support me every step of the way? Y'all better strap in, because it's gonna' be a wild ride, straight to the top. And once we get there? It ain't gonna' matter if it's Cody Rhodes or Jay Briscoe I gotta' punch in the face; I will be the PCW World Heavyweight Champion, a whole lot sooner than later. 'Cause as everyone's about to find out? This is my yard now.

Roman lifts his gloved hand up now in front of the camera, his fist clenched in an all-too familiar way. Staring right into the camera, he offers two final words to the viewing audience.

Believe that.

As he linger in front of the camera, Roman shifts his fist into a hand gun gesture instead, "shooting" at the camera. With a smirk upon his face, the Big Dog turns and walks off, and a moment later the sound of an actual gun being cocked can be heard, followed by a theme that very few ever expected to hear in PCW as the scene fades out.



THE BIG DOG IS HERE!
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Posted 27 July 2017 - 08:39 PM



This jam-packed edition of Tuesday Night Turmoil was going strong. Everyone was happy, the crowd was cheering just about everything that happened tonight, but sadly, that changed when “Sher” by CFO$ began to play over the PA System, and from out the back walked a new face to Primetime Championship Wrestling, one nobody expected, or maybe even wanted to show up in the first place… The Modern Day Mahārājā, Jinder Mahal. Behind Jinder stands his two associates, the dastardly Singh Brothers, who are clapping for their superior. Jinder is wearing a grey suit, with a white shirt. Atop his head is a black pagri, his traditional headscarf. The Indian superstar glares as Jinder stands on the foot of the stage. After a few moments, Jinder is handed a microphone from his subordinate and begins to speak.

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JINDER MAHAL
OF HIGHER BIRTH

Tell me, when you look at me… when you look at Jinder Mahal… what do you see?Jinder pauses and extends out his arms, letting the chorus of boos and negative chants chime in. After a good couple of seconds, Jinder would continue speaking. “I have come to know each and every one of you people… and I know that you people see not a man who is capable of carrying this business on his shoulders. You people do not see a man who is worthy of being champion. You people… see a joke. For my entire career, you people have seen me as a joke, no matter what I may do… or what I may succeed. I am a former world heavyweight champion, yet you people refuse to look past the mistakes I made in the past, the foolish things I had done in order to make a living, even if it humiliated myself, and my people. Do not think that I have not seen your jokes, and your memes made at my expense. Because I have, and the humiliation you have delivered upon me, I used as the fuel that propelled me into shaping my body, cleansing my soul, and centering my mind in order to become the great man that you see before you. The great man that Jinder Mahal was born to become. Because of you people, I was a laughing stock to my family. I was a disgrace to my country. Because of you people, I was thrown aside by the ones I love… and I deemed unworthy of my birthright! But now, I take your insults, your jokes, your memes… throw them aside, and I laugh at you. Because I prove myself each time that I wrestle in this ring against your so-called superstars... the men that you people raised up to be your heroes… and I beat them. I take their pride, and it is THEM who Jinder Mahal makes a joke! Jinder turns his head and looks at the crowd booing him, before his scowl turns to a slight smirk. He chuckles to himself for a moment before turning back to face the camera, his scowl back across his face. “I want Seth Rollins to listen and listen well. You are looking at the one monarch whom you will NEVER slay. I will be the man to end your reign atop the Rising Division and show the world that it is you who is the joke. I will show the world that I am better than you, and then I will slay the Rājē dē Kātala and stand before all of Primetime Championship Wrestling, not only the Modern Day Mahārājā… But you will soon know Jinder Mahal as The Lion Who Rules over the Rising Division when I become the first ever superstar from the great land of India to hold a championship in Primetime Championship Wrestling!

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<3 to Zach
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Posted 28 August 2017 - 02:39 PM



We interrupt our program to bring you this important message...

Darkness. It's the only thing to be seen following that abrupt interruption of what had been, so far, a stellar night for Collision Course. AJ Styles had defeated The Rock in convincing fashion to crown himself the new number one contender to the World Heavyweight Championship, Seth Rollins had led Braun Strowman (and Takedown) to victory against Marty Scurll and Curtis Axel, and six of the finest athletes in PCW's knockouts division had done battle, with Asuka earning a victory for Takedown as well as a championship opportunity. Now, however, the show had been interrupted by a peculiar message, leaving those watching both from home and at ringside confused as they watch the dark screen. Soon, the sound of footsteps falling on the floor echoes off the walls of an unseen room before suddenly drawing to a halt. A moment later, we hear what sounds like a heavy switch being thrown, and immediately light begins to pour down on the scene. As eyes adjust to the sudden light, we find ourselves in the middle of a studio of sorts. Straight ahead sits a desk, dust gathered over the top, and a black curtain is hung behind it. Again, footsteps are heard, and a moment later a man comes into view. With short, dark hair and matching beard, the man is dressed in an expensive black suit, and he stands with his back mostly to the camera as he looks upon the scene before him. Moving forward after a moment, he approaches the desk, which he slowly runs his fingers across. Inspecting the dust he's gathered onto his finger tips, the man proceeds to rub them together as he steps behind the desk, back still to the camera now. Turning his gaze up toward the black curtain hanging behind the desk, he shakes his head and reaches up, grasping the fabric in hand before pulling it down, revealing... something. Whatever it is, it's blocked by the man's body as he stands there, looking ahead at whatever he just uncovered. Nodding to himself, the man proceeds to turn around, for the first time revealing the entirety of his face to the camera - and his identity as none other than the Glorious Bobby Roode! With a wide, confident grin upon his bearded face, Roode offers just a few words to the audience...

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That's right. I'm back.

With those words, we're suddenly taken to an all too familiar sight, as the intro to the infamous, once thought defunct Glorious News Network begins to play! For a moment, the logo lingers on-screen before fading away, bringing us back to the set of GNN. Having undergone a slight transformation in the time it took to play the intro, the dust has been cleared away from the desk and chair, where Bobby Roode now sits exactly as he did just a few months ago. With that confident grin still intact upon his face, Bobby sits with his hands folded on top a medium sized stack of papers, his gaze directed into the camera straight ahead. Wasting no time, the Glorious One begins to speak.

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Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and Glorious believers across the globe... welcome back. And for those of you who may have forgotten, or worse, those of you who have let all the fake news circulating around this company cloud your minds... My name is Bobby Roode, and I am the founder, chairman, and head anchor of the ONLY source for true, accurate information here in PCW, the one and only Glorious News Network.” Bobby exclaims, clearly falling right back into the groove of things here. Wetting his lips, he quickly continues. “And the reason I'm here tonight, interrupting this fine broadcast, is to bring you the latest breaking news, STRAIGHT from the office of Takedown General Manager, Jack Gallagher himself. Because sure enough, as soon as Jackie and I reached an understanding, I came straight here to inform each and every one of you that, FINALLY, the wait is over. You can stop the clocks, stop the gossip, stop wondering when the moment is going to arrive because ladies and gentlemen, it's here already, and YOUR Glorious leader is right back where he belongs. Every Tuesday night, on the brand he made famous, yours truly will be returning not just to the newsroom, but to the ring as well!” Bobby exclaims, pausing afterward as not to overwhelm the PCW audience with too much at once. After all, the return of the Glorious One was truly breaking news, and if we were at ringside for this announcement, surely we'd hear thousands of Glorious Believers crying out in ecstasy. After a moment, Roode continues. “Now, I know what you're all thinking. You're sitting there, in your seats - or on your couch - and you're thinking to yourselves... "But Bobby, how is anyone going to follow this up?" And I'll give it to you, that's a damn good question. And honestly? I'm not so sure anyone can! Not Luke Harper, or Mankind, or Johnny Gargano, or Brock Lesnar, or... Hell, even Cody Rhodes and Kenny Omega are going to be a real disappointment compared to this moment, right here. This is the highlight of the night! And even PCW officials realize it, because when I told them what I had planned, they suggested just cutting tonight short. They said we should just call it a night after I'm finished here, because they know I just can't be topped - but do you know what I said?” Bobby questions, shaking his head before continuing. “I said no. I told them that, regardless of how disappointing it might seem in comparison to me, the show MUST go on. The Keys to the Kingdom match MUST happen, and we MUST find out which brand has the strongest World Champion. Because tonight is about far more than just yours truly, and whether or not there's anyone in this entire company who can compare. You see, tonight is about proving superiority. It's about the men and women of Takedown proving, as they already have and will surely continue to in the next couple matches, that the show I gave life and purpose to is still as strong as ever. It is about proving that Takedown, as young as it still may be, has outdone and outperformed Turmoil in every conceivable way... All thanks to me.

Leaning his head back and spreading his arms out to his sides as if taking in the adoration and applause of a large crowd, Bobby closes his eyes for a few moments, that confident grin returning to his face. After a moment, he returns to his previous position, hands folded in front of him as he wets his lips and continues.

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Because as we should all know by now, there was one man who rose tall above the rest and took charge of Takedown when it needed it most. A man of honor and integrity, who brought those very same principles to Takedown in order to make it... Glorious.” Bobby states, grinning once again as he continues. “And just who was this man? Was it perhaps... Pete Dunne?” Bobby inquires, brow furrowed as he thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “No; he only thought Takedown was his. So maybe it was our current champion, Kenny Omega!” Roode suggests, brow furrowing again. And again, he shakes his head before continuing. “No, no, he was too busy crying like an anime fan on prom night after he lost the Path to Glory Scramble Match.” Roode says, grinning to himself after that oh-so clever jab. Wetting his lips, he continues. “But in the meantime, there was a man who had done exactly what he said he would. A man who went out, defeated that crook Seth Rollins, and became a champion. THE champion, in fact, on Takedown - and that man? That man was Bobby Roode. And under MY leadership, Takedown flourished. It reached heights no one had ever even dreamed imaginable, rising high above Turmoil, Empire, Equinox, Meltdown, and every OTHER show that couple ever, possibly have competed. And I did that. I led Takedown to the promised land, and it's all thanks to ME that, as I sit here right now, addressing all of you? Takedown has, beyond a shadow of a doubt, outdone Turmoil all... night... long.” Clearly quite proud of himself, Bobby grins once again, and takes a moment before speaking up. “And I think we all know by now, that trend is only going to continue. And I don't just mean here tonight, with the last couple matches we've yet to see - but beyond that, as well. Week in and week out, Takedown is going to take out the trash known as Thursday Night Turmoil and continue to prove that it's the REAL flagship show here in PCW. From merchandise to ratings to who's trending more on Twitter, Takedown is going to CRUSH the competition - especially now that yours truly has returned, and is once again leading the charge. Because all of PCW knows by now exactly what I'm capable of - they've watched me do it. They've watched me perform feats even the Lord himself would envy, because walking on water and turning water to wine don't even compare to what I've done, OR what I'm going to do. And by the time I'm finished? Mark my words, ladies and gentlemen. Takedown will be...

Trailing off, Roode grins to himself, taking a moment to wet his lips and catch his breath. Leaning his head back, he lifts his arms into the air in signature fashion, holding this pose as he delivers a final statement...

Glorious Again.

As if on cue, the sound of "Glorious" begins to play as Roode maintains his pose for several moments, all the way up until the scene fades to black...

GLORIOUS!
NO, I WON'T GIVE IN
I WON'T GIVE IN
'TIL I'M VICTORIOUS!

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#1167 User is offline   King Ghidorah Icon

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  • Finisher:Cross Rhodes, American Nightmare
  • Record:9-1-0

Posted 29 August 2017 - 04:15 AM










[ A familiar theme song would begin playing throughout the arena! The night was almost through, with Collision Course quickly becoming in the running for greatest pay per view of the year! But this theme wasn't just any type of theme. This was the theme song of a one JOHN CENA! You could hear the crowd going into an uproar! Well, who are we kidding? There was also half applause! The women and children adored John Cena far too much to hate him. And there were a few pipsqueaks out there who voiced their approval for Cena. However, the booing of grown men was absolutely deafening. Something Cena had actually looked forward to! No sooner than they began their back and forth reaction, Cena would make his way from the backstage locker room. And it was hard to believe, but the audience grew even louder! The place was practically gone! The roof had been blown off! He was here! The former PCW Highlight Champion, and former one-half of the PCW Tag Team Champions! The crowd began to chant along with the theme, replacing the lyrics with their own dub. "JOHN CENA SUUCCKKKS, JOHN CENA SUUUCKKKS". John Cena didn't mind the booing and simply stood there to let it all flow. The chanting was even catchy! Hell, Cena began to wave his finger in the air, going along with the chant! "Would you look at this? The atmosphere, it's EXTRAORDINARY! Let's see what awaits us!" Cena shrugged his shoulders, finally deciding to make his way down the steel ramp! And if you knew John Cena, you knew it was the occasional slow walk! No, sir! John Cena was gunning toward the ring! Cena slipped into the ring, quickly making his way to a stand. He turned to face the audience, heading toward the ropes with a strut to mock Ric Flair in the Throne. Cena would then bump off the ropes, throwing his hands up to the song. There was a pause, and then Cena's arms lowered. And seemingly out of nowhere, Cena brandished a microphone! He waited for the music to die down, and then for the audience to cease. It wasn't completely ceased, but that didn't matter to John, who continued to lift the microphone up to his face. A clearing of his throat and Cena would simply .. go. ]


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"Boy, do we have us a show here TONIGHT! Cena said, trying to garner some praise from the PCW universe, only to be met with a mixed reaction. You got AJ Styles, the NEW number one contender to King Cody Rhodes. Johnny Wrestling, himself, has climbed the ladder to claim the keys to the Kingdom! All this excitement, all this hostility. And yet, the surprise has yet to begin! Cue the boos seeping through the crowd, as Cena allowed it. There was this huge smile on his face, one that wouldn't be taken away by chants of the negative variety. I'm pretty sure you're all wondering. Is that John Cena? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is I. The Leader of the Cenation, Doctor of Thuganomics, AND FORMER CHAMPION HERE IN PCW! This time around, Cena was met with more boos. This whole shindig never got uninteresting, and the fans always made sure of that. Cena had nodded his head, removing his hat for a moment. He took his time, but soon found the courage to go on. Cena's demeanor had changed to one we all knew too well. Serious Cena! And you're all wondering what I'm doing here. Well, I'm gonna put it like this. It's simple. There was a brief pause for Cena, who replaced his hat. Six years. Over six years I have done nothing but sit back and watch the competition unfold. Over six years I have taken a back seat and ALLOWED years worth of talent to all build up. I've waited until I could return to the epicenter, return to where all the magic happens. For over six years, I have waited for this very moment. For the opportunity to come out here and let you all know. THAT FINALLY ... THE CHAMP .. IS .. HERE! And John Cena would finally gain the admiration he was looking for. There had been a long absence with John Cena from PCW, and the fans were actually welcoming of his return! But the cheering wouldn't last, and Cena knew it. He needed to continue to put pressure to the locker room. I know to some of you that doesn't mean much. Hell, I'm damn well sure half of you could care less. Don't worry, I've been listening. I've heard it ALL around the world. It doesn't matter what the acronym is, the saying remains the same! John Cena sucks. The fans quickly picked up on those words, and began chanting John Cena sucks! There it is again. The infamous phrase, we all know it. We've all chanted it, I know I have. Cena shrugged his shoulders, admitting to chanting the catchy phrase from time to time. But despite the chants. Despite what the backstage locker room may think. I'm here to remind everyone here in PCW of something. I am the single most dominating superstar in PCW history and I'M TALKING ABOUT ALL THE MALE TALENT FOR OVER THE LAST .. SIX .. YEARS! The crowd was going absolutely wild, listening to John Cena go on and on about being better than the competition he hasn't seen in nearly a decade. Wait a minute. Hold the phone! How can John Cena come out here and proclaim that? That's what you're all wondering, right? Well, allow me to provide the facts. John Cena, April 11th, 2010. I beat Mark Jindrak for the PCW Highlight Championship, and held the belt in this company for THREE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-EIGHT DAYS! There was a mixed reaction thrown in there, and Cena removed his hat, throwing it off to the side. That's not enough? Try this one on for size. I also belong to the very select few who would go on to win the PCW Tag Team Championship, while simultaneously holding the PCW Highlight Championship. The reaction grew louder, but it wasn't enough for Cena. He wanted them riled! That ain't enough?! HOW'S ABOUT THIS! Cena turned to face the nearest camera lens, focusing everything he had to say in his eyes. And he'd use those eyes to pierce right through the souls of everyone watching. JOHN CENA JUST SIGNED THE DOTTED LINE, AND JOINED THE PCW ROSTER! WOOOO-YESSS! The fans were blowing up currently, with Cena enjoying every last bit of it. He quickly went back to add on to his statement. The best part is. I don't belong to Takedown, I don't belong to Turmoil. Forget Brock Lesnar, pfft, you're looking at the HOTTEST FREE AGENT OF PRIMETIME CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING! Cue another huge blow up from the fans, who were blindsided by Cena's address to the PCW universe. And what that means?! Is that if any one of you boys in the back got a problem with what I just said? I don't give a damn who you are. You could be King Cody, Kenny Omega, Seth Rollins, Titus O'Neil, HELL .. BRING OUT THE WHOLE SECURITY CREW! IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO YOU ARE, THE MESSAGE REMAINS THE SAME! "

IF YOU WANT SOME ..

COME GET SOME!




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Posted 17 September 2017 - 08:30 PM



- - - -

As we're taken back to ringside following that brief promotional video, advertising the arrival of Emma to the land of Primetime, the PCW Universe is already abuzz and wondering exactly how soon she'll be making her appearance. After several moments, however, the entire crowd is caught off-guard as an unfamiliar song begins to play through the arena's speaker system...

oh my lord, take this soul
lay me at the bottom of the river
the devil has come to carry me home
lay me at the bottom...




the bottom of the river

And as Blues Saraceno's "The River" echoes off the walls of the arena, the crowd in attendance - and all those watching at home - find the answer to the very question they'd just been asking themselves. Soon, in this case, means now, as Emma herself emerges from beyond the black curtain and steps foot onto the stage! Her lips, dark red on this particular evening, are curled up in a small, confident smirk as she looks out at the PCW Universe from behind her dark shades. She doesn't move past the top of the ramp, however; perfectly content to address the audience from there as she stands and waits, a microphone already held in her hand. Once her theme has faded out and the somewhat mixed, though mostly negative crowd has died down, Emma takes just a moment before speaking up.

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Let's be honest, now - who actually saw this coming?” Emma questions, smirking still as she glances around at the audience before continuing. “That's right, nobody. Because a lot of you may not like me, and I certainly don't like those of you, but I think we can all agree on at least one thing. And that's the fact that, as of late? Things around here have just been so predictable. Which is why, when that little video played just a few moments ago? You all probably thought you wouldn't be seeing little old me for at least another month, if not longer. But here I am, on the very same night, breaking the mold just like I've always done.” Put off by her arrogance alone, a majority of the crowd begins to boo Emma once again, though this only reinforces the smirk she already wears as she slowly shakes her head. “Oh, that's right. How could I forget? You people don't like to give credit where it's due! At least, not when that credit is due to someone like me. Because unless I'm all bubbles and smiles, none of you want anything to do with me! Let alone actually give me the credit I deserve. And I don't just mean for being the tremendous athlete that I am, or even the fact that I'm undoubtedly better than every single woman back in that locker room - oh no. Because in the end? Those are both things I'm going to prove, beyond even a SHADOW of a doubt, and you'll all look just like the fools you really are. But what I deserve credit for, what should have you all on your hands and knees worshiping the very ground I walk on, is the fact that... All of this?” Emma begins, gesturing around her with her free hand, though exactly what she's gesturing at - or what she's referring to - is unclear. “It belongs to me. And I can tell by the dumb looks on all your faces that you're not sure what I'm talking about... So let me remind you. Let me REMIND YOU of the fact that, without me? There would never have been any women's revolution.” Again the fans jeer, not at all behind Emma here - but that doesn't hinder her at all as she continues. “That's right, because I'M the one who started it. I'M the one who put things into motion by being the greatest women's wrestler to ever grace this sport. I'M the one who's responsible for the paradigm shift in women's wrestling, because even when they tried to make a joke out of me by having me dance around chasing bubbles? I persevered. They stacked the odds and put obstacle after obstacle in my way, but each and every time, I overcame them. And no matter how many times they've tried to knock me down, I've always gotten back up. But do I get credit for any of that? For bringing about a new age, and breathing new life and new hope into women's wrestling?” Emma questions, a bitter scowl taking over her facial features as she shakes her head. “No, of course not. Despite all I've done, despite EVERYTHING I've given to this industry, to all of you, and to all those ingrates back in the locker rooms - I haven't heard even a single thank you. And make no mistake, I deserve a Hell of a lot more than that. But instead, the powers that be try to sweep me under the rug, because I dared upset their precious status quo. You people? You boo me because I refused to just be another ridiculous sideshow! And all the girls in the back? Well, let's be 100% clear on this one - the only reason they hate me is because they're not me, no matter how hard they try to be.” Emma states, to another chorus of boos from the crowd. Simply smirking once again, she carries on. “Because from Peyton Royce and Raquel Diaz, alll the way down to Tessa Blanchard and Toni Storm, they're all exactly the same. They all want to be me. They all dream of being the next woman to shatter the next glass ceiling, and revolutionize women's wrestling again... But guess what? Those dreams... Well. They're exactly that, and nothing more. Because no matter how hard they all TRY? None of those girls back there have what it takes to revolutionize anything. They're ALL just parodies - of me, of each other, of women who haven't been relevant in so long that they THINK they can get away with it... But not anymore.” Emma states, shaking her head slowly. “Because now that I'm here, that's all going to change. I'm going to show these girls, and everyone else, EXACTLY what it looks like to lead a revolution. I'm going to show you ALL what it looks like when you're the GREATEST competitor to ever step foot in that ring. But most importantly? Most importantly... I'm going to show you all exactly who Emma REALLY is. Not a joke, not some dancing, bubble-chasing moron, and certainly not someone who's going to sit by and let herself get swept under the rug after EVERYTHING she's done for this industry... No.” Emma states firmly, again shaking her head before continuing. “So who am I? I'm the woman who set the stage for every other who's come through here, and managed to get even the tiniest bit of success. I'm the woman who held women's wrestling up, single handedly, while everyone else took credit. And I'm the woman who is done getting over looked, and brushed aside, and made out to be anything less than what I truly am. I AM the best that this industry has ever seen... And it's about time that all of you finally learn to accept it. Because from this moment forward? All of this?” Emma again gestures around herself, before using her free hand to point to herself as she delivers a final message. “It's all... about... me.

With those final words, Emma allows her microphone to slip out of her hand, and it lands on the steel ramp with an audible thud before the sound of Blues Saraceno's "The River" begins to play once more. Pointing to herself with both hands now as the fans boo and jeer, Emma reiterates her final message, drawing further ire as we fade to commercial break.

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#1169 User is online   Covenant Icon

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  • Hometown:Davenport, Iowa / Columbus, Ohio / Albania
  • Height:6'2" / 5'1" / 6'4"
  • Weight:222 lb. / 102 lb. / 330 lb.
  • Finisher:Frog Splash, Blackout / Twisted Bliss, Spiked DDT / Cliffhanger, Deadline
  • Record:25-23-0 / 4-2-0 / 0-0-0

Posted 04 October 2017 - 12:15 AM



As Jim Johnston's "Regality" pumps through the P.A. system, the fans would rise to their feet and erupt in a choral rendition of approval. They'd not seen Regal since he'd departed from the commentary team for Thursday Night Turmoil, and they'd not heard his rather regal explanations or phrases in quite some time. Sure enough, as the cheers grow in velocity and volume, the Old Pro would step out through the curtain with his hands clasped behind his back, reserved in demeanor. With an almost soured facial expression, he looks out upon the droning capacity crowd and nods his head as if fundamentally and philosophically understanding the gravity of the moment. Without any change in expression and without a single modicum of emotion, Regal ambles down the entrance ramp, foregoing any sort of attention to the fans or any sort of theatricality. They called him a Real Man's Man at one point, and one could see where this came from as they watch the Brawler professionally step up the steel stairs, down to the middle of the apron, and then through the ropes, into the ring. He steps over towards the ropes nearest the time keeper, grunting to a ringside attendant, "Bring me the bleeding mike, will you?" After being handed the microphone, he'd turn around and focus himself on the fans around the primary production camera, speaking into the microphone with his free hand remaining behind his back, fist slightly clenched.

WILLIAM REGAL | GENTLEMAN VILLAIN
"Bloody alright then!" Despite the exclamatory nature of the statement, next to no emotion would be shown with it. Regal now smirks softly and continues. "It's been... Quite some time since I stood before you all, has it not? When I was relieved from my post behind the commentary table, I was given a new objective by then PCW Commissioner, Shawn Michaels." The mere utterance of HBK's name would send the fans into a frenzy, though once it subsides Regal continues right on with his statement. "Ladies and gentlemen, I was given the objective to help compile a roster of able-bodied men and women from across the globe to bolster the roster... Help PCW possess the most blindingly brilliant roster of athletes this industry's ever seen... From Japan to New York, from Albania to Brazil, from London to Capetown... I scoured the globe, and I found myself more than my fair share of nupty individuals who wouldn't know an armbar from a Kimura or a dropkick from a roundhouse... Now, in recent months, we've seen multiple new competitors join the promotion and champion our values. We've seen the American Dragon, as they call him, bring in his Ace... We've seen the Advocate, as he calls himself, bring in his Beast..." Regal pauses to glance down and smirk, chuckling softly, the fans dying down from the pop at Lesnar's name. "And now we're on the cusp of greatness... Because I've found the perfect athletic specimen, one who is ready to bite your arm off..." Regal grins at the European slang, knowing that the individual to which he refers is chomping at the bit to make the most of this opportunity. "And so, ladies and gentlemen... Without further adieu... Please join me in welcoming the most blood brilliant wrestler I've come to know... Please welcome a technical wizard... Zack Sabre Junior."



A synthetic melody kicks through the P.A. with an upbeat vibe and powerful drums. The fans all rise to their feet, completely caught off guard by the announcement from the former Play-by-Play Commentator for PCW's flagship brand. Collectively, the eyes of the audience flick to the stage as red, white, and blue lights flash throughout the arena, though the stage would be slightly more illuminated. A moment passes before a man in a zipped up sleeveless hoodie, red in color, would step through the curtain and onto the stage. He'd sport a pair of athletic sneakers and black and white athletic sweatpants. With the hood up, it'd be hard to determine his facial expression, and he'd refuse to remove the hood as he completely ignores the fans and struts emphatically down the ramp, eyes glued to the ring. Once he reaches ringside, he'd hustle up the stairs, wipe his feet on the apron as he crosses, and then climbs into the ring pointedly through the middle and top ropes. He'd step up to Regal, who grins and hands him the microphone, before removing the hood to a pop and turning to the primary production camera.

ZACK SABRE JR. | TECHNICAL BRILLIANCE
"Thank you, Mr. Regal... Well... If this isn't a brilliant little corner of the States!" The crowd pops, because nobody would expect someone other than an American to pay the country a compliment, let alone during this present climate. "Apologies, that if wasn't necessary." What? "Because this, like every other corner and alley and city and state in this entire sodding country is utter shite." The sudden shift by the Technical Wizard would garner a huge chorus of disdain from the capacity crowd, but Sabre would merely begin speaking over their din, his demeanor illustrating that he feels disrespected. "You people disgust me, and you disgust my country... What's even worse? Your wrestlers disgust me." Kurt Angle would roll in his grav-- office? "I am the single most technically proficient wrestler this industry's ever seen... The singularly most technically brilliant athlete this planet has ever known, and now that Mr. Regal has come to understand exactly why they call me the best wrestler on the planet, I can begin my meteoric rise to the top of this company... And if you think a single one of your bleeding idiots you call Champions can stand in my way, then you mustn't know me very well... Because as the most technically proficient wrestler alive, I will outsmart anyone in my way... I'll outwrestle anyone you put in front of me... And I'll outclass each and EVERY one of you and your heroes." The fans have already grown tired of this newfound attitude in the Technical Wizard and would boo. Once the boos subside, Sabre is able to continue. "And I will do so at every turn... For every maneuver you throw my way, I will have an answer... I have proven time and time again, from one side of the planet to the other, that I'm the most technically gifted and proficient man on the planet, and if you make the bloody foolish error of trying to test me? I will beat you back down to the very sodding dirt from which you came from." Christ almighty, the boos are explosive as Sabre snickers arrogantly. "Whether it's your fraudulent regality, your ancient mentally deranged, or your mountain men, I will wrestle circles around each and every member of this company's roster... And then I'll be bringing that bloody PCW Championship back where it belongs... As you pigs might say, across the pond." Nuclear heat would explode here, as if he were, in fact, one of the missiles Trump will attempt to launch at some point. "Before long you all will come to understand what Mr. Regal sees in me, and more importantly? How bloody talented I am. There has never been a single man, woman, or child, LEAST of all an American man, woman, or child, that could even fathom approaching my level of technical brilliance. Your Kurt Angle's and your AJ Styles' and your Cody Rhodes' and your Mick Foley's are sodding freshmen compared to me... And if you haven't already learned that for yourself, be bloody prepared for a lesson unlike ANY you've ever received." Sabre's lip twitches as he smirks cockily and allows his maliciously imperious diction flow from his lips. "So bring me your best and watch me dismantle them from top to bloody bottom... Watch me tear their limbs apart and force them to admit for the entire planet to see that I am better and more talented than they could EVER be, all by slapping their greasy little hands against the mat again and again and again... And I need not say another bloody word, because I can just let the sound of my opponent tapping out do my talking for me."

With this, Sabre would simply drop the microphone to the floor in front of him, replace the hood over his head, and step out of the ring with Regal, our segment coming to a close.

Big things have small beginnings...
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Credit to Zach for the Signatures


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#1170 User is online   Covenant Icon

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  • Hometown:Davenport, Iowa / Columbus, Ohio / Albania
  • Height:6'2" / 5'1" / 6'4"
  • Weight:222 lb. / 102 lb. / 330 lb.
  • Finisher:Frog Splash, Blackout / Twisted Bliss, Spiked DDT / Cliffhanger, Deadline
  • Record:25-23-0 / 4-2-0 / 0-0-0

Posted 04 October 2017 - 12:38 AM

We find ourselves positioned backstage in a dimly lit portion of the arena, as if it were intentionally a seldom traveled location. The sole source of light would be a dangling light that would sway back and forth as if it had just been contacted by someone in the room. With the darkness, it would be difficult to see exactly who or what else is in the room, but after a moment, a deep, clean voice cuts through the black.

"There is no legend so great that it can't be killed..."

Another moment of silence and swaying light would pass before a man with very shortly cut hair steps into the view of the camera, the lighting serving only to illuminate his head and his traps. His eyes are green, but filled with a venomous hate that almost give them a tinge of red. He wears no discernible emotion in his face, other than the frenzied stance of his eyes. Widened and with eyebrows raised, the man would seem to be seething as he snickers arrogantly, preparing to allow his poisonous speech to fill the air once more.

RANDY ORTONlegend killer
"Thirteen years ago I took the legend of Mick Foley and I thought I killed it... I threw his body down the stairs, knowing that in his advanced age... That it wouldn't take much... But I was wrong... And now he is your PCW Champion. If you ask me? It's time that someone kill his legend once and for all." Orton smirks now, his eyebrows slightly furrowing and his eyes slightly softening. "I made a mistake by not ending Mick's life alongside his legend all those years ago, and now? Now it's time to correct my mistake... It doesn't even matter if that title remains around his waist because as long as he is able to walk... As long as he is able to speak... As long as he is physically capable of continuing his legacy... I will not rest. I will not stop. I will not relent... Every waking moment will be spent methodically and systematically killing Mick's legacy... It will be spent breaking his body... And it will be spent making sure that he knows his legacy means NOTHING to me... And that when I'm through with him it won't mean anything to anyone... Ever again. Whether he wears that stupid mask or a sock on his hand, I will do what I need to do in order to end him and end his legacy." Randy's upper lip twitches in resent as his blood boils and his veins protrude from his flesh. 'KILL HIM, RANDY.' he hears, his head snapping slightly to the side as if a man were stationed behind him and speaking to him. His lip now curls as if he were the antagonist in a Ridley Scott horror film and he turns his malicious glare back to the camera, refusing to verbally acknowledge what had just happened. "But this is no longer the Mick I once knew... This Mick has... Has added to... Has continued his legacy. He's no longer the same man I threw down those stairs... But sooner than later? I'm going to reduce him to that same victim... And then I'll reduce him until he is nothing... And when he's down there on his hands and knees BEGGING me for mercy... For leniency... For the chance to continue his MISERABLE life... To continue his career... I'm gonna' kick his pleading out the BACK OF HIS SKULL! I refuse to allow his legacy to grow... I refuse to allow him to leave a mark-- A STAIN on the history of this company. Never again-- NEVER AGAIN will he be permitted to matter in this industry. His time is gone and his day is dead... And soon enough, he will be, too." Orton's curled lip smoothly transitions into an arrogant smirk, only for his head to snap to the side again. 'IT'S HIS TIME, RANDY, KILL HIM.' the voice directs. His head slowly curls back toward the camera as he continues. "Every single moment that he remains able to breathe for himself is a reflection of my failure eight years ago and I CAN NOT and WILL NOT continue to allow that failure to exist... I will end his reign as Champion... I will end his time in this company... I will end his time in this industry... And I will end his existence." Orton lifts his chin slightly, peering downward and maniacally at the camera as he concludes. "You can hope for salvation... You can pray for escape... But no amount of prayer will make you any less of a prey... Anyone can run, but no one- NO ONE can hide from an Apex Predator... So when you next see me, Mick... You'll know. You'll know that it's the end for you. And more importantly? It's the end for your legend."


Big things have small beginnings...
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Credit to Zach for the Signatures


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