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| West Coast vs. The World; December 16, 2017 - Inglewood, CA | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 19 2017, 10:35 PM (201 Views) | |
| O.G. Williams | Dec 19 2017, 10:35 PM Post #1 |
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![]() WEST COAST VS. THE WORLD LIVE FROM THE GREAT WESTERN FORUM - INGLEWOOD, CA SATURDAY - DECEMBER 16, 2017 The crowd was abuzz for the first Pacific Coast Championship Wrestling Show, and opening the event was owner of PCCW, O.G. Williams, declaring tonight the start of a new era! The new PCCW promises an exciting brand of action, stretching from the Canadian to Mexican borders, and also into Idaho. That ties into tonight's special event, where 7 different PCCW wrestlers and tag teams will take on the best from around CWC, starting...right now!
Veeka sits backstage impatiently waiting for her match, looking completely bored and unenthused. She doesn't even know who this Carina Eventide from Liberty Pro is, nor does she really care. She's just another body in the ring to be beaten. And this one she only has to pin once. Veeka doesn't understand why she keeps getting put in matches with no name wrestlers trying to prove themselves with her. She knows she's better than this rabble, she's just ready to get this match over with. She gets up and starts moving around to warm up her muscles, she doesn't want to be too relaxed when she faces this whatever her name was again...
We see Samantha Tolson, sitting in her locker room in advance of her matchup with Voidstar. She's in her gear....the blue set with the gold trim, for those keeping score at home....and she's listening to music on her iPod, oblivious to the camera, singing along... "I am immune to you, you are immune to me, we are both sick souls with the same disease....I am immune to you, you are immune to me, we are both sick souls with the saaaame diseeeeeaaaase..." She looks up and sees the camera, grinning sheepishly. She pulls her earbuds from her ears with a tad bit of embarrassment. "Did you see that?" The camerman, unseen, must have nodded yes, because Samantha's cheeks turn flushed red quickly. "Sorry about that...but, you know, looking at this match here in a few moments with Voidstar, those words do kinda hold a certain irony. Our little masked man tried calling me down on Twitter this week, but all he had to talk about was my personal life. A life where, admittedly, I've not always been at my best, a life where I've done things I'm not necessarily proud of having done, a life where, yes, I've made my fair share of mistakes." "The one thing he couldn't touch?" "What I do out there in that ring. Oh, Voidy-poo tried really hard to downplay my skill, my determination, and my heart. Bless his little black heart, he tried. But, he failed. He failed because the past two nights, I've taken the best two of the best women in the world have had to offer and stood tall both times. Spent an hour in a fight Thursday night, and forty-five minutes last night. And I'm ready to put in whatever work tonight I have to put in to put him down for a three count or make him tap out." "In fact, I would go so far as to say that the entire reason Voidstar wears that God-awful mask is because he looks in the mirror without it and sees little more than a career filled with failure. A career filled with few opportunities to be a champion, all caused by his overindulgence in violence." "Now, don't get me wrong, I'm as much into violence as anyone else here in the building. My more violent side, the monster as I like to call it, has been on display plenty of times. But there is a time for violence, and a time to do the other thing I do as well as anyone else in the world, and that's professional wrestling." "See, Voidstar, you were maybe right about one thing. We're not so different, you and I. We're not necessarily that similar though, either. You walk out to the ring, and the fans revile you. I walk out, and the fans blow the roof off the building. Why is that?" "Because they know, deep down, that you and me, Voidstar? We're not even close to the same. Not by a long shot. See, you run around CWC, trying to cause as much damage, chaos, and mayhem as you can...and from the looks of it, that's your only goal. Me? I'm out there hurt, I'm out there half broken, bloody, tired, and those same fans that hate you and curse the ground you walk upon...they know that when my name is on the card, they're going to get absolutely everything from me I've got. They're going to see me put it all on the line, leave it all out in the ring, and do my dead level best to send them home happy." "You say we're both horrible people?" "You, indeed, are a horrible person. Me, I'm just a girl with issues she's trying to work through, but I'm honest about it." "Thing of it is though, when that bell rings, and the lights go down over the crowd, and the spotlight's on just the two of us, all that stuff outside the ring fades away. All of the accusations you've lobbed at me, all the bile you've spat at me all week? Doesn't mean a damn thing." "Because out there, Voidstar, when it comes to the actual sport of professional wrestling, I'm better than you. Was, am, and always will be above you when it comes to the machinations of this sport. And there's not a single thing you can do to prove me wrong, other than beat me cleanly here tonight." "Win by nefarious means, you prove my point." "Lose to me out there tonight, you prove my point." "So the only out you have is to beat me based on skill, heart, and determination alone. And we both know, Voidstar, when the measure between us is drawn on those grounds....you come up lacking." "So do your worst." "Do whatever it is your sick little mind has planned." "I'm ready for any and all of it. But...I want you to remember two things." "One, I'll give as good as I get. You bloody me? I'll bloody you right back. You take the low road? I can walk that path as well." "The other?" "I've already told you that one, but for the record, I'll repeat it..." Samantha smirks at the camera. "...don't be surprised that when the smoke clears, the referee is holding up my hands at the victor as you lie on the canvas, wondering what in the hell went wrong." "Now sir, if you don't mind, I need to finish getting ready for my match....please see yourself out." The camera shot fades to black as Samantha sticks her earbuds back in her ears.
“Let me get this out of the way now - Veeka, we’re not done. After what you pulled, I’m sure of two things - you don’t know and don’t care what’s ahead of you. That’s okay.” Tabitha Tremont steps forward, into better lighting, already prepared for her match ahead against Adam Webb. She throws up a Victory sign, and turns this way and that showing off her pink, gold, and white gear. “I’m excited about tonight though, all that gloom about Manns aside. I’m facing Adam Webb, he’s up from Mexico, so let’s give him a fine old fashioned Inglewood welcome! I promised him a great match, and well that’s what I intend to deliver on! Think Pink isn’t just a happy hashtag, Adam, in case you were wondering.” In playful fashion she flips the edges of her braids at the camera and presumably at Adam. “Just stay focused and this match will be so much fun. I mean, it’s not every day we get to face new people and really, just look at it as a gift. I want to show you around PCCW, and hope you enjoy your stay - and win or lose, I’ll shake your hand after the match.” She grins brightly. “Of course I’ve prepared some powerbombs just for you Adam, and I hope you’ll enjoy getting them as much as I’ll enjoy doing them!” Tabby laughs and then smiles much more warmly than the bright grin. “I’ll see you out at the ring, Adam.” She throws the Victory sign again and heads out of the little hallway area.
As the camera cuts to the backstage area, the monstrous Ramsay Bodach can be seen observing the proceedings on one of the television sets. He is in his street clothes, denim jeans, thick boots and a Portland Timbers jersey. He cracks the knuckles in his hand, grunting. He is clearly not impressed that he is not booked tonight, the evidence being that the rundown card by his side has been smashed to pieces, and many did question his thoughts on the last broadcast, where he was victorious but did not achieve the fastest time to win the Beat The Clock challenge. He doesn’t utter a word, merely grunting as he watches the action unfold upon the screen, flicking his long locks back at one stage before returning to crack his knuckles. Into view comes his manager, Bobby B. Barabbas, a slight look of concern on the man dressed in black on black. He stands next to his client, clutching the black velvet bag he has been carrying around for the past few weeks closely to his chest, watching what Ramsay watches intently. There are a few moments of eerie silence, before Bobby looked up to his prized dog, saying “Soon, Ramsay, soon. Soon we will make our move. And at that point, there will be no one who can stop you.” Ramsay smiles as The Pied Piper says this, nodding his head before the camera cuts elsewhere. “It’s a new day in the CWC.” Anna Mathews, the Time Lord of one damn t in her name, sits on a production truck. This is clearly being filmed from a cell phone. But when does that matter. The look on her face is a thoughtful one. “Legit, now. All you have to do is look around to pinpoint the obvious. A new world champion in the battered, often bloodied form of Josh Kennedy. A new United States champion in the often controversial and bigmouthed Cass Baumer. New territories popping up, old ones dying. Some of them, as in the case of Slaughterhouse, are resurrected from the dead. And some being absorbed lock, stock, and barrel. A dying Hollywood Pro fused with an ever thriving Pacific Northwest to become...Pacific Coast Championship Wrestling. Even the new logo suggests the hopes of this being the dawning of something more.” A look at the new PCCW logo freshly printed overhead. “I’m not gonna bullshit you. Team OVERKILL? We haven’t been ourselves since before we started the World Tour. Ninety nine percent of that? It’s my fault. I changed the dynamic without even thinking about it. Then? We tried to carry on as if it never happened. But it did. And it was so awkward to acknowledge that my partner and I rarely talked unless we had to. Do you want to know why I issued the challenge of the World Tour in the first place?” She spins the phone around so’s everybody can get a good look at her tag team partner, Jacky Rex Daniels. Even as he’s humming some lustless tune and attempting to sew, there seems to be a bit of focus in his eyes and a chip on his shoulder. “For him. Look at him. He even looks different. I don't think he’ll ever not be the loud, crazy, hyper Jacky we know and love. But now, he doesn't just want to punch people. He wants to suplex them to death. He’s evolving. Not too quickly though. It’s a process.” The camera comes back around. “I could go anywhere in the world and draw money, that was never my concern. Jacky...he needed the push. To be honest, I didn't even know what was going to happen to us in Outback. I was afraid that he wouldn't get a fair shot. Figured this way, there might be a better chance. And we dropped the ball. No more. Our cards are on the table now. For better or worse, we won't change the past because it’s something to learn from. All we can focus on right now is the future. It’s time to make the team a priority. And yeah, I realise that I’m going to be in a trio with Brien Storm and Danny Hall shortly. But the truth is that's more of me being the third wheel to that fucked up blossoming bromance. I’m just there to fight and maybe get a shot.” Anna shrugs. “I admit to being a selfish bitch. I’m no hero. But my intentions are often good. And to be honest, I don't know what’s going to happen after this. After this match, we will need to find a new home because it doesn’t seem like Outback’s waking up any time soon. To anybody who ever bought a Team OVERKILL shirt, I’m so damn sorry. Things had changed and we were reluctant to change with them. Robb and Ana Hardy. Hard Hearted. I was so pissed off once. You slunts stabbed me in the throat and cost us wins. But I’m not angry anymore because now? You’re in the same boat as us. You mean nothing. All these new faces popping up in your promotion means that your faces become more of a blur. The playing field has evolved to where it’s sink or swim, feast or famine, victory or Valhalla. You have to win just so you can keep treading water. And we WILL win because there’s nothing left to lose. It’s a new day for the CWC. Welcome to the death and resurrection show.” With a smirk, she raises a finger gun in towards whoever bothers read--I mean, watching this. “Bang.”
A high-pitched shrillllll hits your eardrums, before the visual goes to static. After a few seconds, RAZE appears in black and white tones, making the background behind him black as night. His eyes stare at, what appears to be absolutley nothing. Another high-pitched shrillll hits your eardrums, before Wade Manson walks into the shot. Wade Manson: PCCW, it's good to be back. We may not be able to represent the west coast in this little game versus The World, but rest assured that we are VERY close by. Watching, always watching. Wade takes an apple out of his pocket, and takes a bite. RAZE continues looking at the camera, but Wade stands facing the right. Wade Manson: War on Christmas was plenty fun, and we came to murder. That didn't happen. We didn't leave with those CWC Tag Team titles, but those chaps are still HERE in PCCW. We'll get our chance to kill - we'll get our chance for blood. To be honest, it's not Dragon heads I want on a spike right now...it's a damn mechanical robot's. The shot skips, and Wade's apple is replaced by Silence of the Lambs, by Thomas Harris. He flips it open, handing it over to RAZE. Wade Manson: Gear Society, we're still your number one contenders. We still deserve a shot at those belts. You may have gotten the better of us in our first encounter, but now that we've tasted blood here in PCCW, we won't settle for anything less. The Murder City Saints are a just ITCHING for a kill. An itch we couldn't scratch at War on Christmas. The next one will be that much more rewarding. RAZE brings the book up to his face. RAZE: When the fox hears the rabbit's scream, he comes a runnin' - but not to help. Static.
“We said Nico, not Nick.” Nicholas Gray is sitting backstage, musing on what happened last week, where he showed up to interrupt KONSTANTINE’s threats against PNW-or rather PCCW now-and the wrestling world at large. He actually completely avoids speaking about why he chose to do that, instead focusing on the reaction. Despite being in pain from his match earlier in the night, he still was the one who showed up to stop KONSTANTINE’s threats. Despite being knocked unconscious earlier in the night, he was the one to show up. And the crowd hated it. Anyone but him, anyone but him. Even when the only other option is to let the facepainted embodiment of violence rant and threaten some end of days scenario, they’d rather have that than him. That was the kind of thing he’d wondered about, but that had crystallized the extent of it. He was truly unwanted, on the deepest level. Well, then. Too bad. They did not want him there, they’d rather see the pariah cast out. But he wasn’t there for them, or their opinions. He wasn’t trying to be their hero. And he’d rather not go out there and be reminded every week of the hatred he had earned, that he deserved. But there was no other option for him. He wanted to change how he was remembered, to make a legacy worth having. But to do that he had to perform. Whether it was here or elsewhere, he’d get the same reaction. And he’d already staked his claim to being here, even as it expanded, even as he knew that meant the day would come where he’d be expected to step out to a ring in San Diego and absorb all that. He was...unexcited about that, to say the least. But that was the impasse. They wanted him gone, but could do nothing about it. He wanted to change his legacy, but it meant being reminded of what he’d done every single week. A miserable deadlock. Or, as he put it... “Looks like we’re stuck with each other.” Unless, of course, KONSTANTINE beat him within an inch of his life, and for one moment became the facepainted, violent hero they never knew they wanted. If only they were that lucky, right?
The PCCW roster (those in attendance, at least) hit the ring with the end of the match, some lifting their champion in celebration, while others simply stood back with polite applause. Some of the opposing team (The Thrillseekers, Adam Webb, Team OVERKILL!!) joined the PCCW roster in the ring, congratulating the winning side. In the aisle, with Thoreau passing by the pair, stood Callaghan's next contender, Sophia Pike, and her opponent from earlier, Rachel Redding, watching the proceedings as the show ended. |
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