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Post by Osh Vaughan on Apr 24, 2024 10:03:40 GMT
Match 1: International Title Battle Royal
Ryan McCann, Michael Hunter, John Blade, Jimmy Brooks, Spinella, Trent Darby, Jamie Starr
History will be made as the first-ever International Champion is crowned in a Battle Royal featuring some of IIW's most formidable competitors. Ryan McCann, Michael Hunter, John Blade, Jimmy Brooks, Borgata, Trent Darby, and Jamie Starr will battle it out for the prestigious title, setting the stage for an unforgettable championship reign.
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Post by Ryan McCann on Apr 30, 2024 9:40:54 GMT
[Ryan McCann stands in the center of the ring, microphone in hand, as he prepares to deliver his pre-match promo for the Battle Royal at IIW Explosion. With confidence radiating from every word, he addresses the audience, ready to talk smack about each of his opponents.]
Ryan: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight marks the beginning of a journey—a journey that will culminate in me becoming the International Champion. But before I can claim that title, I'll have to conquer six other competitors in this Battle Royal. And let me tell you, it's going to be a cakewalk.
[He points to each opponent's image displayed on the titantron as he speaks.]
Ryan: First up, we have Michael Hunter. Ah, the so-called "hunter" of the IIW. Well, Michael, I hope you're ready to become the hunted because tonight, I'm going to outsmart and outmaneuver you in that ring.
[He turns his attention to John Blade.]
Ryan: John Blade, the self-proclaimed master of the blade. But let me tell you something, John—you may have a sharp weapon, but I've got sharper skills. I'll leave you lying flat on your back before you even have a chance to unsheathe that sword of yours.
[Next, he focuses on Jimmy Brooks.]
Ryan: Ah, Jimmy Brooks. Last week, you let a little intimidation from Casimir Laska get the best of you. But tonight, you won't have any excuses. I'm going to make sure you regret ever stepping foot in this ring with me.
[He smirks as he mentions Spinella.]
Ryan: Spinella, the high-flying daredevil. Well, Spinella, I hope you're ready to come crashing down to earth because I've got a surprise waiting for you—a one-way ticket over the top rope.
[Turning to Trent Darby, Ryan adopts a more serious tone.]
Ryan: Trent Darby, the powerhouse of the IIW. I'll give you credit where credit is due, Trent—you're a formidable opponent. But tonight, I'm going to prove that brains beat brawn every time.
[Lastly, he addresses Jamie Starr.]
Ryan: And finally, Jamie Starr. The wildcard of this Battle Royal. But let me make one thing clear, Jamie—I'm not here to play games. I'm here to win, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you're the first one eliminated.
[With a final defiant glare, Ryan drops the microphone and exits the ring, leaving the audience buzzing with anticipation for the Battle Royal to come. Tonight, he's determined to prove why he's the future International Champion.]
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Post by toyboy on May 7, 2024 14:10:28 GMT
A title? For real?
Jimmy Brooks stood in front of his kitchen table, his eyes wide as a happy child on Christmas morning as he feasted his eyes upon the newest part of his collection.
A replica of the IIW International Championship! That's tits!
Jimmy reached his hands down to clutch the official replica of the International Championship belt only sold on ShopIIW.com. Jimmy took the stiff championship belt and slung it over his shoulders. He turned around and walked to the bathroom as the cameras followed him where he began to flex and smile in front of the mirror with his replica championship belt.
I mean, if anything was ever specifically made for a specific talent it''s this championship for me. Look how toyetic it looks? How awesome would it be if the first wave of IIW action figures featured "The Toyboy" Jimmy Brooks equipped with his brand new International Championship. Just thinking of all the greats that held this belt, it's got me feeling a little bit of a chub. Tyler Debonair, John Cavanagh, Russell Wayne...that's about it. I stopped tuning into IIW around the time that annoying kid York won the title and then left. Ya know, I'm glad I tuned back in towards the end though because if I didn't, I wouldn't be standing here waiting to become your next IIW International Champion.
Jimmy grinned at himself in the mirror as he made his pectoral muscles dance.
Yeah, that's it. That's the look right there. Oh hell yeah! Jimmy Brooks...The Toyboy...the IIW International Champion. It's coming boys and there ain't a damn thing anyone can do to stop it!
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Post by laborgata on May 8, 2024 13:11:03 GMT
An Italian flag waved in the air above a small building with white paper covering the windows. In small black print the door had the words "The Italian-American Society of Kings County Social Club: Members Only". The door flung open as a short, slender man with a large nose stepped out of the social club and lit a cigarette. Behind him came a man a little taller but more stocky, it was clear that one of these men knew where the gym was and the other did not.
Paulie Spinella: Shitty weather out here, huh Ton?
The man with the large nose looked towards the much more muscular man in a white tanktop who simply nodded in agreement with the man they call "No Nose".
Paulie Spinella: We all know why we are here and that is to earn. How do you earn as a pro wrestler, Ton?
The muscular man sucked up a loogie and spit it to the sidewalk.
Tony Saporito: You go out an win, ain't that right, No Nose?
Paulie Spinella: That's fuckin' A right! This guy is as strong as a bull and as smart as that German guy, Einstein.
Tony Saporito: Hey, I didn't get my button for no reason.
Paulie Spinella: FUGHEDABOUTIT! These inbreds don't need to know about all that family business they just need to know what is going to go down at Explosion.
Tony Saporito: Oh, that's easy...
Paulie Spinella: International Championship?
Tony Saporito: Coming home to La Borgata!
Paulie Spinella: Battle royal?
Tony "the Bull" Saporito flexed.
Tony Saporito: Been hitting the gym, these mutts are going over the top rope!
Paulie Spinella: Yeah, that's it. International Championship gonna come home to Sally Wallnuts. We gonna make the boss proud!
Tony Saporito: Now let's go Paulie, we gotta get that thing from the Zip that took care of that thing for Sally.
Paulie Spinella: You mean the garbage thing?
Tony Saporito: No, the other thing.
Paulie Spinella: The restaurant thing?
Tony Saporito: No you mamaluke! The thing with the Greek guy!
Paulie Spinella: OHHHHH!!!! THAT THING!!!!
Fin.
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Post by Trent Darby on May 8, 2024 14:51:28 GMT
Color Code Plum is important What is your greatest wish?
Everyone has a secret desire. Perhaps something that they may be a little hesitant to say out loud, something that they pray for each night as they tuck themselves into bed to repeat another day that ends with y and consists of 9-to-5 misery, but there is a fact that binds us all together as a species. While some people are content with what they may have, deep down we all want a little bit ‘more. What that ‘more’ has many faces, love, money, opportunities, and excitement just to give a few select examples of some things that may be lacking.
Everyone wants to be special. Everyone, deep down really just wants to be great, to be one of those guys. Someone who is seen as important.
Though he may not be willing to admit it out loud, this is the ramblings of one of those people. The feelings of someone who just wants to desperately to be great.* * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * * “.So.” It was rather impressive how one simple word could carry so much weight, both saying nothing and everything at once. If that hadn’t been the best way to summarize the pro wrestling career of one Trent Darby, then who knows what was? A career that had its fair share of wins over big names, and yet nothing one could really point to as ‘success. No titles of IIW to decorate his mantle or any real big rival victories he could brag over any time he felt like getting under somebody’s skin. So, if one were to find themselves in these shoes and management came to you and said hey, we’re going to put you in a match at the pay-per-view, where you could be our first champion of this title, how would you react? Some people would be training, making sure they were in as close to perfect fighting shape Dieting, making sure to stay in tip-top shape so they can have the stamina needed to outlast everyone else in a battle royal.
Both are good suggestions, far better ideas than what Trent has decided to do which to the outside observer seems to consist of ‘meet up with old friends, play PlayStation and smoke weed like they were back in high school.’ Hearing his companion speak up out of nowhere, Trent finally glances up from the screen, pausing the video game as a blank-faced anime teenager swings a sword at an amorphous blob to look at the person speaking.“...I’m waiting for more. So what?” His friend can’t help but roll his eyes, apparently to his mind the subject of ‘So.’ was supposed to be self-evident. Moses Tyrell and Trent had been friends for years, hell they had grown up together ever since they met in the fourth grade. Best friends through middle, and high school, and even trained to be pro wrestlers together (it helped when Moses’ father ran a gym, it never hurts to have someone in the know) They had even worked as a tag team in a few smaller federations before Moses had become disillusioned with the sport and decided to take a hiatus. All of this is to say that in the mind of this outside observer, Trent should know what he was supposed to be spilling the dirt over.“Come on now mister Big-Time. Heard you were supposed to be competing on Pay-per-view this weekend, and here we are chillin’ and playing video games. Gimme the deets, how you feelin’.” ‘Big time’ even in jest it sounded so ludicrous that all Trent could do was snort. IIW had been gone to him on the whole, there was no denying, the first company in a long while that had really given him a fair shake at once again actually making a living in this sport that he had fallen in love with at the age of six, but it wasn’t like he was in main events of sold out arenas. Let’s temper some of these narratives just a little bit. “Not too worried, on the whole. Most of the people I’m competing against don’t seem like much cause for concern, and I still have a few days to really try and get myself right, so treating this as a cheat day.” Video games, weed, and a lot of red velvet cake, what could be better? Seemingly content to let things die there, Trent goes to unpause Personable 4 but the gameplay doesn’t get a chance to progress much farther before he is once again being prodded in the shoulder for attention. “C’mon bruh, don’t leave things there Gimme a scoop, sell me on this show y’all are putting on.” …It wasn’t a wrong thing to say per-say, and yet somehow at the same time, all he could feel in the pit of his stomach was a knot of annoyance. Leaning back against the couch where he was seated, Trent silently made a show of both brushing long hair away from the frame of his face and stroking a long, scraggly beard hoping that all of this silent stalling would be enough to make his good friend get the hint and move on, but the longer the silence continued on the more apparent it became that a response was being awaited. With a grunt of…reluctance? Annoyance? Defeat? Perhaps a strange mix of all three, Trent finally sets the controller he had been holding to the side.
First pay-per-view since IIW relaunched. Trent Darby competing in the opener, one of the more important matches on the show. There didn’t seem to be anything to complain ab- “Bro, they got me wrestling geeks.”
Or perhaps there were a few select things to complain about, although somehow one had to get the feeling that this was not going to be used in the official promotional material for the show. It was not unique for someone to have some sort of complains about a show in te world of professional wrestling, although the more popular complaints people tend to have are things along the lines of ‘I need more money, I cant eat on this.’ or ‘You hired this guy, he sucks ass,’ opponents being too dorky to punch was a rarity. “Or…Fuck man, I dunno. That’s not really my issue, I don’t want to complain about wrestling for a championship on a major show. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to hold a title belt and claim it as my own,” A quick pointed look over towards his friend, who made it a point of his own to look anywhere but at the only other person in the room. “But some of these dudes they’re expecting me to share a ring with, just seems like the geek match of the night. And things were supposed to be different this time.”Geek match of the night, perhaps a little strong. We were all trained adults in the world of pro wrestling combat, not awkward teenagers having a slapfight in high school trying to give someone a wedgie from a flagpole, but in certain cases you just had to call a spade a spade. After a brief pause of begrudging silence, Trent gives a small shrug of halfhearted reflected acceptance and found himself forced to edit his statement slightly. “Fair being fair, this Jamie Starr dude I can understand them saying her, let’s give him a shot to win a title we want to bring back for our reboot, you feel me? Tough lookin’ dude, comes from a storied wrestling family background, actually had a good match in his debut, I don’t see anything wrong with having to take the dude on. Hell, if they were all competitors up to the standards of him and I than we wouldn’t be sitting here, having this conversation.” Some would argue that it was borderline, if not outright blatant arrogance to put himself on a level above most of the other competitors, but as an honest man Trent just couldn’t bring himself to lie and put on an air of modesty in certain cases. Live that gimmick brother. “Problem is, they’re not all dudes like that. You got geeks like Jimmy Brooks, a grown man that goes around calling himself ‘toyboy’ and goes around playing with dolls aimed at ages twelve and under. Michael Hunter, a dude who used to hold a hardcore title in this company sure but in the world of what have you done for me lately, all he’s done is get pinned and yet somehow he’s here taking up space. John Blade-”
“Eyy, finally someone I know. Surgeon of Thuganomics!” Happy at last to have a chance to speak up about a familiar name, Moses trips a soda can back in the best attempt at a salute that he can manage in his condition before tilting his head back and pouring the contents down his throat like he was back in high school, trying to impress some of the other kids with his chugging abilities. The John Blade experience: Arrive, show up, cause people to drink.” “One and the same. And I’ll say this for the dude, he seems to bounce around from place to place but at least he’s won a match in this company recently. Beat some dude who thinks he’s a sea pirate so you can at least point to that as a reason for his getting title shots.” ‘’ unlike some people who just show up and get them’ is wisely left unsaid, but it’s not a crime to think about some of the unfair advantages new coworkers get just for reasons of ‘because. That would be a rant for a different day depending on an outcome may or my not bich about later.’ “And this ain’t even mentioning a dude like Ryan McCann, who all I can remember him doing is losing and getting high on the smell of his own farts, or the dude who goes around acting like a mobster-”
“What, you’re wrestling dudes from 1930’s Chicago now?” No disrespect meant to our fine Italian-American heritage representatives, but wrestling was not the first thing that comes to mind when you think of people who may or may not have ties to people with shady goings-on. Chucking to himself at his own unspoken joke, Moses finally trails off in the sort of thoughtful silence, trying to piece everything that he had been ranted at together, his brow wrinkling in confusion as he tried to understand all the issues presented. “So..what. You’re nervous about fighting all these dudes?” “Nervous?” Well, maybe about upsetting their mobster friends later perhaps, but that was a separate matter all together. Trent sat in silence as he studied his friend as if he was noticing just for the first time that he had grown a third head out of nowhere in the middle of their conversation before slowly just shaking his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Nah. It’s more like…I don’t know, excited I suppose. Just like I said, it’s been far too long since I’ve had a title belt I could call my own, right? And I have to admit, now that I have a shot at oneI want this belt. Hell, I need this belt dammit.”
‘Why’....well, he would never admit it out loud, but things have not exactly gone as smooth as silk for Trent Darby in his career in IIW. For every good victory he had managed to collect, there had been another bout of bad luck, or he at stumbled at the finish line and let someone pet him to the finish line and collect the pot at the end of the rainbow. You win your re-debut, you lose a match that could have proven you deserve bigger matches and better opportunities. You pin a former Global Champion, the company goes on hiatus for months on end. You finally get a match on pay-per-view, you have to share it with a dude named Florida Man. There had been too much ebb and flow in his time here, too many peaks and valleys.
Sometimes you just want a nice straight line. “Explosion…I’m gonna get what I deserve. And they’re going to have to learn that chance, whether they like it or not is happening. This company is going to have to take me seriously.”
“Fuck right, brother.” Cheerfully clapping Trent on the shoulder both in a show of support and because it just seemed like something he should do in this situation, gave his shoulder a small squeeze with one hand while quickly scooping up the abandoned video game controller with the other. Enough talk of feelings and all that bullshit, time for something just a bit more important. “Now, for fuck’s sake, help me beat this boss. We have to finish the story.”
word count:2142
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