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 PWP 5: The Gold Rush - Brett Sands vs. Mercedes Young

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Josh C. Duncan
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PostSubject: PWP 5: The Gold Rush - Brett Sands vs. Mercedes Young   Sat Feb 01, 2014 4:37 pm

1 RP Max. 300 word minimum. Deadline is February 12 at 11:59 PM Eastern.

NOTE: Your RP counts for the ENTIRE tournament. Not just your first round match. So keep that in mind when writing.
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PostSubject: Re: PWP 5: The Gold Rush - Brett Sands vs. Mercedes Young   Thu Feb 13, 2014 1:41 am

Free agent wrestler: Boring, boring, boring.

The scene opens up in a New York Penthouse, a well-kept penthouse that is for a single person, barely anything is displaced. We are high above New York City. The sun is ready to fall below the horizon, as 5 pm approaches. On a black leather couch, in the middle of the room, we see Mercedes. Looking wither annoyed and bored.

Mercedes: So, about one year ago to the day, a wrestling company told me they had a place for me. They said I was going to face top notch talent, and that place was PWSWF. So, I got I there, talked to the boss, shook his hand. He told me that everything was all set and I was going to make my debut the following week against someone pretty decent. However, when that week rolled around, I get a call saying the place needs to take a break because the owner is on vacation……I thought for a second, and then I became violent on the phone with the person who gave me that news. Why? Because I worked so hard in the indy feds and to have a promise of having a match to that place taking a break……..

The annoyed look on her face is pretty much a statement to the fact, she hates PWSWF now.

Mercedes: If I see the boss there, I’m going to approach him and slap him right in his stupid face! I’m going to slap him for breach of contract then I have plans on suing him as well. You don’t offer me a contract then a week later take off without any proper statement as to why you left. But here’s the thing, after he left, he offered me back with another contract saying that he needs someone like me on the roster. My reply to him was FUCK YOU! I don’t need is pettiness. You don’t come crawling back to me when you make a promise, it won’t happen.

Mercedes who had been sitting Indian style got to her feet and started to walk around a bit.

Mercedes: PWSWF, almost……ALMOST turned me off from wresting all together. My cousins, who were going to join that place, after it took a break, lost all interest in wrestling because of it.

She walked towards the kitchen and towards the fridge. She opened up the fridge and pulled out a battle of water from it before closing the fridge. She walked back to the couch and sat back down. She placed the bottle of water in front of her on the wooden coffee table, which is black.

Mercedes: I then went to a fed named……PWS. But soon as I got there the place had closed down. Now, I was a bit disappointed, but what can you do right? But I heard so much positive things about that place so I wanted to wrestle for it, and get to the guys there who paved the way, like Eddie………and Nick. But they’re off to different places now, oh well. But there was one problem with PWS, they didn’t let women fight men…….why? maybe it was sexism or maybe the fact they know women can carry themselves better than men. Because if that’s the case……Why was Laura owning all the men there, hmm?

She shakes her head in disgust.

Mercedes: It is what it is and you can’t change it now can you. But after a while of being in the Indy feds you get fed up. You get promises that get broken, and you try to live off of $20 or less. But it’s whatever, I will find my way into a company you better believe that. Now, I’ll be back in a couple of hours, need to get something to eat.


PWP: Championship hunt.

The scene remains in the penthouse, which was more than 2 hours later. It was the 2 days later when Mercedes decided to get back on the camera.  She’s in a tank top and a pair of shorts. She’s looking across the frozen New York City landscape sipping something in a coffee cup.

Mercedes: So, I found a federation, that’s going to treat me with respect. This company gave me a shot at the Championship and it’s my first time on the card, FINALLY! A company that knows my back history and respects me, I’m going to show why they allowed me the chance to be in the thing. But I’m not going to get excited just yet until I hold the title in my hands after this thing is done and over with.

Mercedes walks towards a couch with her coffee cup. She has something on the TV, but we can’t figure what it is.

Mercedes: What does that championship mean to me? It means that all the hard work and dedication I’ve done in the Indy feds means that I made it. I didn’t make it by being a loud mouth or sleeping around trying get that belt. I worked HARD for it. Some people in the match…….I don’t feel like they have. I’m excited for this opportunity and I’m going to embrace it. I’m refuse to lose in the first around because that means you’re a loser. And I refuse. Now, let’s go through some of the people in this match.

She grabbed the cup from the table and sipped it before she got going.
Mercedes: Jame Shark or stark or whatever the fuck his name is, he’s nothing more than a loud mouth negro. He thinks he’s an untouchable person, just like god. In reality, he’s nothing more than an idiot who thinks people listen to him. Every time I hear him talk, I just tone him out. I mean for the love of god, it’s like listening to nails on a chalk board. He’s just like any other stupid man out there. Now see, if this was back in the 1960’s he would be slapped in the mouth with a chain and put to a work like every other black person was or arrested like Rosa Parks and treated like a SLAVE you were and still are. Get it? Nobody likes black people! Does it look like I care if I’m going to hurt his feelings? Nope. It’s how I was raised……I was born in the racist part of New York and I could carless if I’m hurting his feelings. I’m waiting to smash his huge ass ego……..In a way, he’s just like every black man I come across. Just wait. You think I’m scared of you? Because I’m not… I’m not scare of black people I just wish they didn’t exist. LEARN SOME FUCKEN ENGLISH! Dis and dat is not proper it makes you sound stupid.

Mercedes: Darren Maddox, I’ve heard some things about him, but the important part of all the things I heard was he couldn’t beat a woman if he tried. I heard he was facing a woman named Alexis and he lost, he’s going to lose twice after that PPV in WXW is over with. Darren, you’re steak of losing to women is going to carry on either it would be me or that other woman in the tourney.  Darren, face the facts, you’re the weak link to Extreme Justice, and everyone looks over you and uses you as a stepping stone. But I guess it’s your man ego to think you can beat on women like an idiot. How fun.

Mercedes: Frankie, Frankie…….Frankie. An annoying like prick that shouldn’t be around the wrestling world but yet he is. He’s as worse as James. JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP! Nobody wants to hear you speak and nobody wants you around. The things you do Frankie aren’t that funny, I watch them and I shake my head in disgrace. I shake my head in disgrace because it’s stupid that humanity has to see that poor excuse for a comedy skit. You’re just like watching Jay Leno. I fall asleep every time I see that ugly mug. But now, since we’re here, I’m forced to listen to you, there’s no mute button anywhere.

She shakes her head in disgrace.

Mercedes: You’re nothing more than a disgrace to the world of professional wrestling and to your family. Why are you even here Frankie? Too embarrass yourself? To make yourself noticed again because you were in the women’s division for the last year?

Mercedes shrugs her shoulders. She had a thought after she got done talking for a bit, If she met him at the show or backstage or anywhere near her, she’s going to ignore him, that goes for the rest of the people as well.

Mercedes: The next person we have Rob Colton, a guy who is obsessed with his hair more than anything in the world. I thought it was pretty funny when he got his head shaved by a girl. I thought it was funny that he ran around with a paper bag on his head, ashamed. I thought it was funny he tried to wear a wig……..which was ugly. I thought it was funny that he……Rob Colton is a freak of nature. He calls himself a sex god? The vomit in the bathroom disagrees. Rob, I don’t know you, and I don’t give a damn who you are. I don’t think you’re going to make it far, why? It’s the obsession with the hair that will stop you. I’ve saw some old tapes from PWS, and all you cared about was the hair and not the match itself.

Brett Sands, He’s the type of guy who thinks women don’t belong in wrestling. He’s the type of person who believes into his own hype, he’s the type of guy who is the biggest idiot in the world. I’ve got news for you Brett, I’m coming in like a wild fire and I’m going to smack that ego you have going for you. I’m going to clip off your manhood because you have no use for it……..and nobody wants mini bretts roaming the world either. See Brett, I’m not looking forward to losing in the first round. I’m not looking forward to going home early. I saw that you posted a thing on the PWP website then replied to it, and you put a victory on your own match.

She took her head.

Mercedes: Ego. You disgust me you know that Brett? You don’t think I have a chance now do you? That’s the stupidest mistake you can make. I bet you think that women belong in the kitchen huh? That’s not true, you see I came across some males who were butlers and being bossed around…..Funny isn’t it? Funny that you think that women only belong in that line of work.

She looked at the TV for a second and at the TV she’s watching. She watches it just for a split second.

Mercdeds: One more guy I’m going to do because the rest of the people in the match don’t really matter to me and I don’t give a damn about them. That person is TJ. Now, I understand he’s a vet in this sport and that’s great. But, I don’t care. I’m looking forward to perhaps meeting him in one of the matches and then doing an upset victory over him. I mean, it’s time for the young blood to squeeze her way into the sport. People like TJ are slowly becoming old news. Now TJ, I have a feeling if you lose a match, you’re going to throw a fit and try to say that there’s a conspiracy against you. By all means do. Because that’ll make yourself look bad. It’ll make yourself look as bad as you did when you left PWS. All you did was whine and moan because you didn’t any title shots or became a big name then left after one match. GET OVER IT! Get over your own ego. For me personally, I don’t think you’re all that great anyway. You think you are but you aren’t.

Mercedes scoffs before getting up from the couch. She kept shaking her head before she grabbed another drink from there.

Mercedes: Everyone else, like I said, I don’t care about you, and I don’t care that you’re in this thing. Most of you will lose in the first round anyway so why should I care? Why should I waste my time to talk about people who don’t really matter? Makes no sense if you ask me. Now if you excuse me, I have other things to do.

The scene comes to an end.
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PostSubject: Brett Sands RP   Thu Feb 13, 2014 1:56 am

[ON CAMERA]

"I feel as if I should introduce myself. That's what newcomers do with people they don't know and that don't know him.

For those that don't know who I am, the name's Brett Sands. For those that do know me, good. It'll make it easier for you to understand what my objective is with entering this tournament.

Do I need to win this PWP Heavyweight championship tournament? No, I don't. Unlike some, I'll still be one of the young guys that promoters worldwide will keep their eyes on and will sign them to contracts. Shit, ever since I got suspended, I have been getting multiple calls from other promoters and their federations. XWA's Genesis Heavyweight champion wanted me to challenge for his title and all it took was me tweeting at his bum ass. People have been sending me email messages offering twice as much money or immediate title shots. And unlike most, I was given an invite to this little tournament.

Yes, I was the last man to sign up for this tournament. Number sixteen himself. I was the last guy to sign up and I guarantee you I'm not one of the favorites to walk away with that strap. I guarantee you everyone is overlooking me just like people tried to overlook me in WCE.

And what happened in WCE? I fucking stumbled getting out of the gate, then fucking ripped through the competition. 2-time tag team champion, 1-time Asylum champion, 2-time United States champion, an award for most improved in 2012, and was the only man to hold three fucking title simultaneously in the company. If it wasn't for the company being bought out, I'd be standing here in front of you a 2-time Heavyweight champion AND A 1-TIME WORLD CHAMPION.

I'm a damn good competitor and you can look at all the tapes you want, but trying to actually combat me and strategizing to combat me are two VERY different things. I'm what I like to call a "wrestling chameleon". Just when you think you've got me thought out, I pull something completely new.

So, go ahead and pay no attention to little old me. Or go ahead and study my matches and give me your little fucking shout outs during your nice camera time. Go ahead and mention my losses because even when I lose, I fucking win. Even when I lose, I look stronger than most of you would when you actually win matches. Go ahead and mock me about my unfair suspension from EXODUS.

Just know that if we step into that ring, it won't be fucking fun for any of you. Because all the shit talk you try and yell into my ear, it just goes right through there and out the other one. Aka, I truly don't give a shit about what people have to say to me, especially when they try to clutch at the thinnest of straws.

I win the PWP Heavyweight championship, good shit. I'll just add it to the trophy case with all the other titles I've won. I lose, I probably won't give too much of a shit and I'll just go on with life and continue being a damn good wrestler regardless of the result, though I certainly won't be a first round knockout. That category has Mercedes's name all over it.

Be seeing you soon."



Present Day
Sacramento, California

Brett Sands: Care to explain to me how the fuck it was possible for me to get suspended by that cocaine snorting fuck, Christian Kane?

My lawyer, Eric Peters, begins looking through the multiple pages of my contract, trying to find out how they managed to find a loophole in my EXODUS contract. His eyes have widened in fear as he looks over the pages of the contract, halfway through. I pace back and forth on the other side of the desk, the chair already knocked over from when I walked in and flipped it over in anger a few minutes ago.

This contract was supposed to be ironclad. Former 40% owner Edward Nair and the damn lawyer in front of me assured me that I would basically be untouchable when it came to my status as a roster member of this federation in San Diego. They assured me that the only person who could fire Brett Sands is Brett Sands. But no, somehow Christian Kane found a fucking loophole that this lawyer I was paying UNGODLY money to couldn't.

I watch him continue to scan away at the papers, his eyes moving from left to right as he tried to find how exactly that fuckhead Christian Kane managed to be able to suspend me. But, I grow impatient as I slam both of my hands on the edge of his desk, startling my lawyer and forcing him to take his eyes off of the contract and place them onto me.


Brett Sands: WELL?! What do you have to say?!

Peters sighs as he sets the contract down before looking right back up at me, a look of disappointment across his face.

Eric Peters: The contract prevented anyone from firing you in EXODUS, but it didn't...it didn't prevent them from suspending you indefinitely.

Brett Sands: Are you fucking shitting me? Didn't you graduate from Stanford and were the top of your class? Didn't you earn your law degree and learned how to practice shit like this?

Eric Peters: Of course.

Brett Sands: So then, tell me. Why the fuck am I here yelling at you for making one of the fucking dumbest mistakes I've ever seen made by an agent?


Peters sighs as he looks down at the contract once more, wanting to avoid any and all eye contact with me. He knows what I'm capable of and his body language shows that he fears me.

Eric Peters: Because I didn't handle your correctly...

Brett Sands: DAMN RIGHT, YOU FUCKING DIDN'T! Instead, I'm sitting here in fucking Sacramento, screaming at your idiotic ass, and forced to sit at home and watch some of these other fucks get their chances at gold that I should be holding right now!

Eric Peters: Brett, you lost your last match there before you got suspended...


I growl before leaning over the desk, Eric raising his head up to stare into my eyes. He begins leaning back, not wanting to be near me or even within arm's reach of me. I can see sweat start forming up in his forehead out of fear, but I remain leaning on the table, just barely keeping myself from snapping on this god damn agent.

It is true that I lost my last match in EXODUS, but it hadn’t really bothered me. The match was not one that needed to be one and I walked out under my own damn power, taking some skin off of Alejandro as well. Jaime could have this damn win. To me, wins and losses don’t really matter. What matters is the final goal. That I will either become the top champion and rule the company with an iron fist or some fucked up soul will finally have the balls to put an end to me and save me. Take me out of my god damn suffering.

But until then, I’m stuck here, staring down this fuckboy of an agent. He looks as if he’s scared shitless as he slightly trembles.


Brett Sands: What the fuck did you just say?

Eric Peters: N-N-Nothing...

Brett Sands: No, go ahead and say it, tough guy. Say that shit that you just fucking said to me and see what happens.

Eric Peters: Brett, please...


I chuckle as I lean off of the table and turn my attention to the flipped over chair. Sighing, I grab it and put it upright once more before plopping my 267 pound frame onto the seat, raising my legs up and placing them onto the desk of my idiot agent’s.

Brett Sands: You know what, Eric? I’m kinda tired of putting my faith into people like you. I try and bend my little “no trust” rule just a bit for people like you and what do I get?

I let out a sigh and chuckle again.

Brett Sands: I get completely shitted on. I try and give you the slightest bit of faith and you turn it into toilet paper before wiping your ass with it and tossing it away. I try and give you some of the good life, try to get you to make mad fucking money off of me, and you just take that about as seriously as you take your bastard child’s soccer game.

I can tell I went too far, but I don’t really care. Eric jumps out of his seat and makes his way around his desk, an angry look on his face. Looking like he finally grew some balls, he points his right index finger at me and begins yelling at the top of his lungs. Surely, his assistant can at least hear this.

Eric Peters: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Brett Sands: Or what?


I get up from the chair and step right up to Eric, that angry look on Eric’s face quickly wiping away. The size difference is obvious as I have to stare down to look at him and he has to tilt his head upwards to avoid looking right at the logo on the tee I am wearing underneath my black leather jacket. Eric seems to gulp down in fear before finding his balls yet again. He takes the index finger he was pointing at me with and begins jabbing me in the left pectoral, yelling at the top of his lungs once more.

Eric Peters: OR I’LL KICK YOUR ASS! I swear to God, Brett. Don’t you ever talk shit about my family or I will kick your douchebag ass!

He jams his finger into my chest and keeps it there, forcing me to change my gaze to that one finger. Seeing it there just brings a smirk to my face before I turn my gaze back to the owner of said finger. Giving him the same smirk, I take my left hand and grab his throat, his widening in shock. Using my obvious advantage at strength, I shove him towards the nearest wall, slamming him as hard as possible into it. He lets out a groan of pain as I can feel shock and fear spread throughout his body. He tries to writhe out of my grip, but I got it locked in tight as a sneer appears on my face now.

Brett Sands: You’re not gonna do shit, Peters! You know why? Because you’re spineless. You’re nothing more than a suit that can only do what suits do and you know what?

Eric Peters: *choking* Brett...let go....


Eric’s face is turning a slight tinge of red from my grip on his throat, cutting off the air. I ponder the decision for a second, but decide to release him when he’s tapping my left wrist like Rinaika tapped when I locked her in to the “Dream Crusher” to win the WCE Asylum title. When I release him, he keels over and begins breathing heavily before I grab the back of his collar and pull him upright. I then grab at his suit jacket and lift his rather small frame up and slam him right into the wall again. His eyes are wide with fear again as he looks at me in the eyes.

Brett Sands: Now, you’re going to listen and you’re going to listen good. I can piledrive you right here, right now, but I won’t. I can leave you a bloodied up mess. I can cripple you and you can live having to sit in a wheelchair for the rest of your life, but I’m feeling generous. It’s your lucky day.

Eric Peters: So, what are you gonna do to me?


I lower him down to both feet before releasing the grip on his suit jacket. He seems somewhat stunned at this, but I drive a knee into his gut that keels him over and forces him to let out a grunt of pain. I arch my back as I get my head low enough to where he can hear me loud and clear.

Brett Sands: I’m going to make you feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in this world. I’m gonna continue to keep you as my agent too. You don’t deserve to be, but call me Brett Claus, because I’ve decided to bless you with a gift.

Eric Peters: Thank you, Bre-

Brett Sands: I’m not done yet. Here’s what you’re gonna do now. While I’m gonna think of a way to get back into EXODUS, you’re going to get me some other work. And don’t tell me there isn’t promoters practically licking their chops at getting me on their cards. Now, can you do that?


Eric seems to have regained some composure as he stands upright once more, causing me to do the same. He looks at me for a second before slowly walking past me to his desk. He begins looking through some other papers before finding what he was looking for. The paper has a list. A list of names.

Of course there has to be a list for me. I’m that fucking good. I’m just one of the most underrated talents in this business and when no one sees me coming...it is absolutely perfect.


Eric Peters: Ok, so this small Japanese company wants to offer you-

Brett Sands: Pass. Fuck Japan. Only think good they got there are those Ribera steakhouses.

Eric Peters: Ok....how about a Canadian company in Toronto?

Brett Sands: ...you’re joking, right?


Eric sighs before reading down the list. A smile appears on his face as he looks at the list and finds something that he thinks will catch my interest. He quickly turns to me, the smile still on his face, surprisingly.

Eric Peters: Pro Wrestling Project is holding a tournament to determine their first Heavyweight champion. They’d like you to be in the tournament.

I can feel a smirk appear across my face as I hear this news.

Brett Sands: Call them and tell them I am in. After all, I do love me some gold and I would like to take out some of this frustration. Oh, and by the way...

I take a few steps towards Eric with a smirk on my face before speaking.

Brett Sands: And if you let me down again....you won’t like what happens to you.

----

[ON CAMERA]

“To be honest with you, I really don’t care enough about most of my competition to do actual research on them. Why? Because I can’t seem to really give that much of a shit about half of you. Some of you are probably looking at that card and calling me a no-namer, whilst I’m doing the same. It’s a nice little chicken-and-egg story here.

Now, let me be clear. Do I think that some of you are actual no-namers? Probably not. Some of you have probably found some small success in whatever small ass companies you work in and decided that since this tournament was open invite, you could squeeze your mediocre asses in and try to win a top title that you most likely won’t win...EVER in your company. Some of you are just in this trying to prove something to somebody. And others are in this because they actually have talent and can become the PWP champion easily.

Me? I’ve got it pretty easy. I’m not a favorite or that well known like James Shark and Flex Johnson. Go ahead and look at everyone else’s videos of talking about the tourney and you’ll see that most barely bother notice me. So, pressure’s off for me. And I don’t really want the PWP Heavyweight title, though I won’t say no if I truly earn the title. I’m not a scrub, like some of you. I can win the top title in any company because, unlike about eighty percent of you in this thing, I have the talent to win one. Hell, I’ve won two already. And I certainly don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Unlike a few of you, there is no pressure for me to succeed in this...even though I will.

Like I said before, I’m not a first round knockout type of talent. If I can make a prediction about this tournament, I would only say there is one person who can actually beat me, two that can get a win over me, but would have to bring their A game, and about 12 of you that are nowhere near my skill level and won’t be able to even leave a scratch on this god like body of mine. Really, it’s a weak herd of a dozen zebras and about 4 lions looking to go after that herd. Luckily, the lions may end up fighting each other beforehand and a zebra may sneak its way into the final four.

Mercedes Young is one of those zebras, but she certainly won’t be the one sneaking into that final four. You see, while I have had my fair share of losses, losing to you should probably mean that I should retire from wrestling and go fucking hang myself. I’ve seen you wrestle. I’m not impressed. I think I could train a monkey to perform about half of the moves you can perform inside that ring. And when you enter that ring with me, it’s gonna end up being a brutal night for you, sweetheart.

Now, I don’t want you thinking I’m saying this because you are a woman. Some of the best wrestlers in the world are women, but you aren’t even near that category. In fact, you’re the kind of female wrestler that makes other females feel ashamed of their gender, not proud. While other, more impressive women, win titles and make names for themselves. You? You just keep getting dropped on your ass like the dumb cunt that you are and you keep on sucking more than the Denver Broncos in the Super Bowl.

But you know what really pisses me off? The fact that you are named after a fucking car. I mean, do your parents really not love you to name you after a car that has more class than you’ll ever have? When I hear the word “Mercedes”, I think luxurious and classy. And then I see the person who is named that and...well, you can already tell where I’m going with this. You’ve got a stripper’s name, but you look like you are ready to play flag football with the rest of the butch lesbians. You’ve got a hot girl’s name, but your face looks like it got smacked with a fucking shovel.

When the time comes for us two to meet in the ring, I’m gonna fucking break you. Nothing personal, just got a statement to make to the next guy or chick I face. And once I get past the second round, I either face Rob Colton or Jade Shocker.

Rob Colton, I’m not gonna waste my fucking breath talking about you. You fucking win, cool. You don’t, you can go ahead and crawl back into your hole and try to burrow out for the next PWP show where you’ll likely be opening against another chump like you. Yep, you’re a fucking zebra as well.

Jade Shocker. What. A Dumb. Fucking. Name. You sound like you are just about the cheesiest type of wrestler. You probably wrestle in them fucking tights that look like you’re wearing tighty whities, huh? Yeah, your body screams middle aged coke head and your face tells me that you’re the kinda dude who goes around in his white, windowless van, and asks kids to find your ‘puppy’. I really don’t care if you win or if Rob wins. The result will be the same. This lion is gonna tear through either one of you.

But, after I’m done with putting Mercedes’s ugly ass down like a damn dog, and after I put Jade’s molester looking ass down or Rob’s basic looking ass down, I’ll have to face either of these four: Sister Liliana, Darren Maddox, Peyton Von Licht, and James Shark.

Telling you this right now. Sister Liliana is a damn zebra. She’s probably the weakest zebra of the three zebras I see that I mentioned above. I mean, all I know about this chick is that she used to go under the ring name of Sweet Potato and she got possibly one of the biggest fluke victories of all time against Blyss Lockhart.

First off, that former ring name is straight up fucking lame. If Darren Maddox loses to someone who used to be named after something I used to eat at Thanksgiving, I’ll hand him the fucking rope and he can go ahead and hang himself right there. Secondly, I can already tell that Sister Liliana is nothing more than that one trick pony. She got the one victory over Blyss, that one FLUKE victory, and she will continue to use it as the number one thing to show she’s a legit threat. She’s gonna milk that shit until she can’t no longer and when that happens...well, I won’t ruin the surprise. It will be fun to watch though.

Now, Liliana is the worst kind of zebra. She ain’t even the zebra trying to lead the pack or the second-in-command. She’s nothing more than a follower. And when you are a follower, you can never become a Heavyweight champion. I’ve learned that from my past and soon, you’ll realize. You’re one of the people who feels as if they got something to prove and you’ve got that pressure from that Lynyrd Skynyrd reject going too. That’ll be your downfall, whether it comes at the hands of Darren Maddox or the actual lion in your small four person bracket.

Lemme talk about Darren Maddox real fucking quick. Actually, I have no idea where to start with this guy. This is just so fucking easy that I’m actually flabbergasted and am having trouble thinking about what to say. Oh, well. Here goes nothing.

First off, what the fuck is up with that fucking hair? You truly look like nothing more than the biggest douche in the fucking world. When did you decide that you didn’t look enough like a dumbass so you got this fucking hairstyle? Nah, I know why you ended up having your hair done like that. You were hoping to get noticed, right? You were hoping to stand out amongst everyone else because nobody wants to listen to you when you get in front of a camera and I’m sure no one wants to see you wrestle either.

You talk too much shit for a guy who is about to run into James Shark yet again and fail to defeat him. You talk too much shit for someone who is about to get their ass bounced out in the second round. Difference between me and you? I talk shit because I can actually back up most of my words. I can back them up with wins. You? You’re like a chihuahua. You practically beg to start a fight with someone, but then we quickly learn that while your bark is annoying, your bite is nonexistent. At the next show, somebody’s gonna punt you, doggie.

Peyton Von Licht. Young kid looking to capture his first ever Heavyweight championship. Now, people are gonna give you the little speech about how you are too young and too naive and too inexperienced, but I’ll halt myself from doing that. Why? Because it’s a bunch of bullshit. Everybody’s gonna toss you that line but at the end of the fucking day, those touting the experience are the same ones who are fucking scared of being looked as washed up.

My only legitimate gripe with you is that you don’t have that instinct. That instinct that separates top champions from contenders and midcarders. I can see when I see at this kid with a big fat grin on his face but when I look at the eyes of said kid...no instinct. There will come a time where you are forced to pull the trigger, and you won’t do it. You won’t do it because you won’t have that instinct to do it. And just like you won’t do that, you won’t walk away from the first round.

I can already smell the semi-finals. The semis are calling me and somebody else’s name. That man’s name is James Shark. If everything goes as it should, it will be Brett Sands vs James Shark at the semi-finals with the winner eventually going on to become the first ever PWP Heavyweight champion. That I can believe.

Now, if anybody’s got my respect in this tournament, it’s James Shark. If you can’t even give props to what James Shark has done in this business. He’s held that top gold before and he’s a natural-born winner. James Shark is the goddamn favorite to win this thing and if you believe otherwise, then you are fucking retarded. Plus, I could sit here and be like all these fuckers that hate on Shark constantly because they aren’t as talented or as entertaining, but I’m not gonna hate. Man’s done work and deserves everything he gets. If anyone drops me out of this tournament, it’s gonna be James Fucking Shark.

But, I’m not gonna sit here and kiss his ass. He doesn’t need me to feed his ego and yes, like every wrestler including myself, Shark has an ego. I’m not gonna bring up the messy breakup and use that as my main attacking point and say that he’s distracted because he’s not. In fact, he’s probably more focused than ever. Shark’s one of the lions I mentioned, and I look forward to a lion vs lion fight in the semi-finals. Shark’s the only man that can stop me. Nobody else has a chance.

But that doesn’t mean I’m rolling over for Shark. If I get the chance, I’m gonna pin Shark in the middle of that ring. If I get the chance, I’m gonna pull off the ‘upset’ and I’m gonna drop Shark on his ass before pinning him for a three count. You best believe that.

But, hey. You zebras can keep on dreaming, because Mercedes sure as hell ain’t making the semis. Rob Colton and Jade Shocker? Ha! They are lucky one of them is making it to the final 8. And Shark’s gonna do work against whoever the fuck he faces and when it all comes down to it, a lion’s gonna make it to the finals. I just believe it’s gonna be me.”

------

Present Day
San Diego, California

I watch the young man’s car slowly begin to make knocking noises before stopping dead in its tracks. The darkness of night has engulfed the San Diego sky and the only other car besides this kid’s is my Porsche that I bought when I first signed an XWA contract. Knowing this is my opportunity as I see the young man exit his car, I drive my car and stop it right next to his. He keeps his eyes on the car, probably astounded by the quality of the car. Noticing his expression while inside the car, I begin to chuckle.

Brett Sands: This kid just might be able to help me get back into EXODUS.

I let out a sigh before opening my door and exiting the car. The young man’s eyes widen as he stares at me, remembering exactly who I am. He takes a step back before stammering out his words.

Young Man: You’re- you’re Brett Sands!

Brett Sands: Indeed I am.


The young man takes another step back, but I remain cemented in place, a smirk on my face from the kid’s reaction. I then look over at the piece of shit car the kid has been driving with that same smirk before shooting the kid a sideways glance.

Brett Sands: Heard you lost your scholarship, kid. How you gonna pay for classes now? I mean your mom is already in the hospital, trying to kick that breast cancer and daddy...he ain’t around no more, is he?

The young man looks shocked that I know so much about him and his life.

Young Man: What do you want from me?

Brett Sands: Your help. You help me and I’ll reward you with enough money to go back to school, get yourself a new car, new clothes, all that good shit.

Young Man: Help you with what?


I let out a grin.

Brett Sands: Help me get back into EXODUS.

----

[ON CAMERA]

“I hate it when people say the word ‘destiny’. People toss that word around so much that it really has become nothing more than that. A word. People believe that this is their time to shine and their time to prove their doubters wrong. You see, I don’t fuck with destiny. She’s a fucking whore who will keep stringing you along until you get sick and tired of her. I’d rather fuck with talent. And trust me, I’ve got a lot of that. But, talent will also be fucking with one more person to bring him or her into the finals with me.

Somebody’s name who has been tossed around a little bit is Jordan Caliband. Not gonna lie, I was hoping that he would be more....impressive. Instead, it looks like the Green Ranger, from one of those shittier versions of Power Rangers, has decided to join this tournament. And for those of you that don’t know, nobody really gives a fuck about the Green Ranger, just like how nobody gives a fuck about Jordan Caliband.

I’m gonna be honest with ya, Jordan. You truly don’t stand a chance in this thing. I think you think you do, but I’m telling you right now that just like Mercedes, you’ll be a first round knockout. And if you pass the first round by some miracle, you’ll get bounced out in the second round. This isn’t your time. I can already fucking tell. You’re gonna give it your all, but your all won’t be enough.

Do I really have to mention Johnathan Blade? Oops, guess I did. This is about as famous as he’ll get. Another first round knockout. I would say more, but I’d rather focus on people that are more imprtant.

TJ Codair. Is he supposed to be some kind of badass that I’m supposed to be running scared for? Let me guess, I should be scared because of his stupid little chest tattoo? Or maybe because of that lip ring that he wears like he straight up wants to be in a grunge band. And I’m supposed to be scared of this?

Can anyone tell me if they know shit about TJ Codair? Can anyone tell me when was the last time TJ did something even noteworthy? Because anything he can do, I sure as hell can do much, MUCH better. TJ Codair I think used to wrestle for Inferno, where I heard he Josh Anderson’s bitch for life. Then I heard he took his bags and went home like a bitch. Is that who you want to be your first ever PWP Heavyweight champion? A zebra bitch? Hell no. Codair stands no chance in this shit. He might pick up a nice first round win, but there is no way in hell Codair makes it to the finals.

Robert Saints...another zebra that I honestly should not have even bothered mentioning me. Shit, I’m looking at the card right now and I still don’t know where to find you. You wanna be the first PWP Heavyweight champion? You might wanna start standing out for all the right reasons, unlike coloring your hair. Until then, good luck in whatever fucking match you got. I likely will be taking a piss during it.

Frankie Emerson. Wrestling’s number one d-bag. You know, I actually tried for you, Frankie. I looked up your Unsanctioned on camera promo and I chuckled. You’re a pretty funny guy, though I find your stupidity to be the funniest thing about you. You try and make these jokes and you’re always hit and miss, but the fact that your IQ level is probably lower than a five year old’s makes me laugh.

As for your work in the ring, you’re a decently good wrestler. Unfortunately, decently good will get you absolutely nowhere. Being great will get you somewhere and that’s a fact. But you don’t want to be great. You just want to live in your own fucking bubble and hope that bubble stays intact for as long as possible. Deep inside, you’re praying that you make a great showing so that no one doubts you, but you already doubt yourself, so what’s the point?

Hold on tight, Frankie, because when the bubble bursts...it’s gonna get REAL ugly for you.

The only other female in this tournament is Savannah. All I really know about Savannah are two things. She works in Insurgency and she has a lunatic for a boyfriend. So, Insurgency is a pretty high up there company, not gonna lie. She’s won titles in the company, so she’s doing something right. And she’s a pretty good wrestler. I’m not gonna even touch on the boyfriend subject. If she likes for him to choke her and punch her right in the face as he goes on one of his little pissy fits, that’s on her. Who am I to judge?

But, for all Savannah has done, it seems there is speculation that she got some opportunities because she decided to slob on Tim Patrick’s knob. I mean, maybe she isn’t that good and she got some opportunities handed to her, so what? It just means that she’ll be trying to prove people wrong by trying to win this entire tournament, And that’s where she ends up meeting her doom.

Like I said before, if you are here to try and prove something, get ready to get sent home real quick because your thirst to prove yourself to others is what’s going to be your damn downfall. You’re trying to prove yourself as a legit contender, but it is going to suck when you get bounced out in the early stages and have to watch as others who didn’t have this pressure surpass you. Man, you’ve already set yourself up for defeat.

Sylar Drake. I consider Sylar Drake one of the lions of this tournament, but he’s like the weak lion who can probably get eaten by the prey he tries to hunt. Sylar Drake is coming back from an injury after being out for over two months. Now, let me tell you the story of how he got to sitting in a hospital bed and being forced to watch BETTER wrestlers in EXODUS do better than he could.

You see, Sylar and I had this little match, man-to-man, and I ended up defeating him by disqualification. I would have defeated him regardless, because poor Sylar decided to be the little high flying monkey that he is and landed right on his ankle, which I took advantage of later. And that is how Sylar Drake ended up losing two months of his career thanks to yours truly.

Now, I’m not gonna lie. Part of me hopes to see Sylar Drake in the finals, just so I can have the pleasure of actually pinning his shoulders to the mat. But, like I said, while he may be a lion, he’s a weak one and he just might get overtaken by a zebra. He just might take his eyes off the ball...again, and be another first round knockout.

The only person I can really put my money on in this thing is Flex Johnson. Why? Because he’s the veteran of the group, the smartest guy in his bracket of 8, and the only one who can boast a 4 and 0 record. Flex is basically the guy people might be getting behind to win this tournament. People are gonna love to see either Flex or Shark walk away with that title. There is just one problem and no, I’m not taking a crack at Flex’s age. That’s been overdone like crazy.

Flex may be more strong minded than others, but there is one thing that is gonna come back to bite him in the ass. Flex Johnson is gonna only be looking out for himself, but the fact that there is a little part of him out here to prove something to people will end up being his downfall as well. While it isn’t a glaring thing with him like it is with Savannah, the fact that he has something to prove as well, though not as greatly as others, shows how deep in trouble he will be WHEN he makes it to the finals.

Flex is out here trying to show young bucks like myself that he can still beat some ass, but in the end, his age won’t matter, his mindset will, And when he reaches the finals, that urge for him to have something to prove will grown even stronger and I’ll take full advantage of that glaring problem before I drop him on his head and become the first ever PWP Heavyweight champion.

Age, race, skill, urges, none of that matters. At the end of the night, I just might walk out with the strap. And I guarantee you that will look great around my waist.”
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