-Drum beats are heard as we see more shots of Spectre in training-
Voice-Over: His in-ring stylings speak of a well-traveled past, with signs of various martial arts, striking styles, and all forms of pro wrestling techniques.
-Bits of video show the masked Spectre leaping and performing a roundhouse kick in mid air; other clips show him guarding and striking against a sparring partner clad in pads, while other clips show him grabbing a sparring partner, taking him down, and rolling through into a single leg crab hold. The shots are taken in a shadowy setting, the only discernible things being the mat, the ropes, and anyone in the ring.-
VO: He still refuses to speak of his mission, or lack thereof, whatever it may be.
-More videos show Spectre bowing in mid ring, performing leaps, springboarding and flipping, landing squarely on his feet, and even scaling the ring ropes with a very quiet fluidity.-
VO: He is as he has been named: a specter, a mysterious presence, a shadow lurking in the recesses of the mind of the EWT.
-The clip now is Spectre standing in the ring, the camera closing in around one half of his face, focusing on his pale blue/greyish eye.-
VO: Training from around the world, yet no place called home. Everywhere, and nowhere. Soon, Spectre arrives on pay per view.
"[Spectre] is a well-defined shadow cast by the Sun into the clouds. This phenomenon is often accompanied by colorful circular bands, which center on the point opposite to the Sun from the observer. These rainbow-like rings are called a glory and are reflections off of water droplets, much like a rainbow."
Bobby Cruise: And his opponent, from New York, New York, weighing in at 205 pounds, making his EWT debut tonight, EXNER!
Exner slowly makes his way down to the ring, absorbing the sights and sounds of this rowdy EWT crowd. He gets in the ring, removes his coat, scarf, hat and tie, and begins to roll up his sleeves. The referee asks both men if they are ready, and it looks like they are. The bell is rang, and here we go!
Craig: I am excited to see what Exner can do in his debut.
Sum Guy: Me, too
The two meet face to…mask in the center of the ring. Exner quickly and without notice punches Sabin, right in the left eye, and Sabin goes down! The referee gives Exner a verbal warning for using the closed fists. Exner, blowing off the ref’s warning, hits a series of mounted punches, again to Sabin’s eye. The ref pulls the two apart, and warns Exner that if he uses closed fists again, he will be disqualified. The camera pans to Sabin, and he beginning to become a bloody mess thanks to a cut above his left eye.
Craig: Well, Exner just guaranteed that this match won’t be going the full 60 minute Broadway.
Exner gets back down on Sabin, but this time goes for an armbar on the right arm. He is really getting some good torque on there. Exner changes positions so that his feet are near Sabin‘s head, and he grapevines the arm with his legs. He begins to work over Sabin’s hand. He grab’s Sabin’s index and middle fingers, and begins to pull on them like they were a wishbone! All of a sudden he stops.
Sum Guy: Oh my gosh! Did you hear that snap?
Craig: I did! He broke at least one of Sabin’s fingers!
With Sabin now laying on his stomach, Exner stomps his head, splattering the canvas with blood. Exner bounces off the ropes, and hit’s a knee drop on Sabin’s broken hand! He picks Sabin up off the canvas and whips him into the corner, back first, and he goes to the opposite corner. He charges to the corner and hit’s a running, jumping double knee to the face!
Craig: The Fearful Symmetry! He may have broken Sabin’s nose!
Sabin groggily traipses around the ring, and Exner gets in front of him and hit’s a lungblower to the chest! Sabin rolls around on the canvas, and begins to cough up blood!
Craig: The Second Shooter! Sabin is going to need medical attention! He could have a broken rib or a collapsed lung!
Exner rolls him up.
1 2 3!
Exner gets his hand raised by the referee, and leaves the ring.
Post by Moxie loves Natalie on Aug 12, 2007 19:07:10 GMT -5
<We fade back in awaiting the next bout…>
JR: Well folks, I know you’ve been waiting for Moxie and Rhino to hook up tonight, and it’s about that time! I’m excited, aren’t you, Carl?
Carl Guerrero: Yeah JR, it’s going to be one hell of a match. I’ve been…
<MVP’s music hits as he comes out to a round of boos from the live crowd. He makes his way down the ring and slides in. He stand on the corner turnbuckle and raises his WWE United States Championship over his head to a roar of boos from the crowd>
JR: What in the hell is MVP doing here? Wasn’t he supposed to be here last week?
MVP: So I get a call last week to come to the “biggest up and crapping fed” and I get to wrestle a washed up has been with a losing streak? Good thing my plane was late, I wouldn’t want to have to lower myself to wrestle him. I want a challenge out here toni--!
<MVP is cut off as Rhino’s theme hits the Toomi-speakers and echoes throughout the arena. Rhino runs down to the ring, and slides in. MVP quickly drops the microphone and rolls out, as Rhino stands looking down on him, standing on the second rope>
<MVP quickly grabs another microphone>
MVP: Whoawhoawhoa. Let’s get this straight, Idon’t want to wrestle a mentally challenged monkey either!
< “Zombie Eaters” by Ill Nino hits the arena and the crowd erupts as Moxie walks out from underneath the Toomi-tron>
JR: There’s Moxie! The man who will be challenging Cassinova for the OX title at Old School!
<Moxie has a microphone in his hand. He lets out a quick smirk>
Moxie: Here we are, yet again. MVP, not knowing when to keep his mouth shut. Well, I know I was disappointed last week when you couldn’t even make it here on time for your ass-kicking. But, on the bright side, look at it this way, I’ll make up for lost time by beating both of your asses all over the EWT Arena!
<Moxie drops the mic, and runs to the ring>
JR: Here we go! Moxie vs. Rhino vs. MVP!
<Moxie slides in but is met with a few kicks to the shoulder from Rhino. MVP stands outside as the ref begins a 10 count.>
JR: MVP better get in there, or he’ll be counted out!
<Moxie is able to get up, and Rhino throws him into the ropes, Rhino goes for a quick Gore but Moxie somersaults over him! Rhino drops to the canvas, and Moxie awaits for him on his feet.
<Moxie pulls Rhino up a bit and pushes him into the corner. He lights Rhino up with a few chops, and then throws him into the opposite corner!>
JR: Reversal by Rhino!
<Rhino reverses the Irish Whip and follows quickly with a sharp clothesline on Moxie>
CG: Rhino nearly took Moxie’s head off!!
<Moxie falls down to the second turnbuckle, staggering, as Rhino pulls his hair up and lights Moxie up with a few punches to the face and some chops.>
<MVP climbs to the apron…>
<Rhino sees MVP, and walks towards him, shaking his head. The ref checks in on Moxie>
JR: Watch out Rhino! MVP’s got his US Title!
<While the ref’s back is turned, MVP hits Rhino with the US Title!>
<MVP climbs in and lays over Rhino! The ref turns and sees the pin attempt!>
Broken up by Moxie!
<Moxie kicks the back of MVP breaking the pin attempt. MVP rolls off Rhino and looks at Moxie, he puts his hands up and shakes his head no! Moxie nods his head yes and kicks MVP in the face. He pulls him up and hits a few chops, then kicks him in the gut.>
JR: Brainbuster by Moxie!
<Rhino is still groggy from the shot with the US title>
CG: Look JR! Rhino’s busted wide open!
<Rhino is indeed busted wide open, and is picked up by Moxie. Moxie hits a throat thrust and as Rhino staggers away, Moxie locks in a Full Nelson!>
JR: Dragon Suplex by Moxie!
<Moxie holds it and bridges, with a pin attempt.>
<Rhino kicks out, and MVP rushes over for another pin attempt on Rhino!>
MVP is pulled off by Moxie!
<Moxie pulls MVP away and drops a double knee on the square of MVP’s back! He then pulls him up and kicks him in the gut, hitting the Quick Fix DDT right afterwards!>
JR: Quick Fix DDT by Moxie! That’s usually the setup for the Oracle!
<Moxie pulls MVP back up, and pulls him towards the corner. Moxie sits on the top turnbuckle, with MVP in position for a Tornado DDT! Moxie leaps up and around, but as he rotates, Rhino is up and hits a Gore on MVP!!!>
JR: Bah GOD, did you see that, Carl?!
CG: Wow, JR! as Moxie was going for a tornado DDT, Rhino went and Gore’d MVP mid-turn! It’s a miracle that Moxie was able to twist out of the way!
<Rhino quickly turns to face Moxie, but is met with a huge running Yakuza Kick! Rhino felt the effect of that as he is nearly knocked out!>
<Moxie pulls both men up, and sets MVP for the Quick Fix DDT again, and at the same time, sets Rhino up for an Ace Crusher!>
JR: Moxie’s got both men now! Ace Crusher! Quick Fix DDT!
<Both men are out, and Moxie pulls them both to the corner. He lays MVP atop Rhino and climbs to the top rope.>
JR: Moxie with a 450 Splash onto both men, Rhino and MVP!! CG: That is insane, JR!
<Moxie makes a pin attempt, laying on both of them>
The ref counts…
1… 2… 3!
JR: Moxie with a tremendous victory over both Rhino and MVP! CG: Hopefully that will give him some confidence in his upcoming OX Division Championship match against Cassinova! JR: Moxie’s been on a bit of a losing streak since coming back, maybe we’ll see a change later, at Old School!
*the camera pans around the EWT arena and as "Land Of Confusion" by Distubred hits they go into a frenzie as The Gaurdinals, Andy "The Eagle" Davidson and John "The Lion" Valentine, appear and as they strike there seperate poses, the snooker cue in the air with Davidson and the fist to cheek, Ron and Don Harris appear from behind and land a clubbing blow on there opponants for the evening, with one half of there opponants at Old School Smarky walking out behind the Harris twins*
Todd Grisham: Those damn Harris Twins have just jumped The Gaurdinals on the entrance ramp, and what the hell is Smarky doing with them?
Jerry Lawler: Its simple Dumbass, Smarky knows that the Harris could destroy Davidson and Valentine tonight and so he wants a front row seat.
*Smarky has now picked up Davidson's snooker cue while The Harris Twins are punching away at the Gaurdinals near the ring. Ron Harris irish whips Valentine into the ring apron and bends him over, Ron climbs onto the apron and lands a leg drop over the back of Valentine. Davidson is back body dropped onto the concret to the delight of Smarky. Valentine is in the ring now and Ron is landing the boots into him, Ron tags in Don and they land a double closeline which gets a two count. Don starts the punches to the body of Valentine and the ref steps in to stop Don and Valentine is able to finnally get some forearms in and a running closeline taking the bigger man down. Valentine gets a tag to Davidson and Don tags in Ron, Ron and Davidson start a slugfest and as the referee tries to get some order Don Harris clobbers Davidson in the back with a polish hammer knocking him down*
Jerry Lawler: Tag team lesson number one for the Canary and Pussycat: dont take your eyes of your opponants.
*Ron and Don pick up Davidson and irish whips him into the ropes and on the rebound Davidson is able to duck the double closeline attempt and get the tag to Valentine who accends to the top rope and missile dropkicks Don into Ron knocking them both down, Valentine calls for the Amazon Strike but Smarky slides in with a chair and decks Valentine from behind, Davidson runs in and rolls undernieth the swinging chair and goes to the Harris' corner to get the snooker cue which Smarky stole during the prematch attack but he gets it SNAPPED over Davidson's head by Smarky's tag team partner at Oldschool Virus. Virus slides into the ring with the broken cue and throws it to Smarky who stabs stabbing into the skull of Davidson while Virus is beating down Valentine with help from the Harris Twins*
Todd Grisham: MY GOD KING THIS IS A ABSOLUTE BLOODBATH
Jerry Lawler: Your right J... I mean Todd Davidson is bleeding like a headless chicken and Valentine looks like he just got maimed by a lion
*Virus and Smarky pick up there opponants and land the Outbreak and Prozac just to add insult to injury*
Todd Grisham: Smarky and Virus just destroyed the Gaurdinals but will they be able to do that at Oldschool?
Post by Koda, Master Crunchyroller on Aug 13, 2007 0:58:14 GMT -5
We fade in on the Celts in Kilts in their locker room, getting ready for a match. The F.O.G. rush into the locker room.
Jason stands up to meet Koda face to face.
Jason: Well, well, what do we have here?
Koda: Who the hell do you guys think you are?! You had no right attacking them! They were defenseless!
Jason: Listen here, no one, and I mean no one, ever messes with family.
Koda: Family?! What the HELL are you talking about?
Willie: My lord, the boy doesn't even recognize the tartan?
Koda: What is going on?
Jason: We're your cousins. My name is Jason Graham, this big man is Kevin Graham, over there is Teddy Graham, and the old geezer is Uncle Willie, or William Graham.
Koda: So let me get this straight...you guys traveled all the way here from Scotland, just so you can rough up Danny and them?
Teddy: You bet, cousin.
Koda: Well, I hate to break this to you guys, but...hold on a second, you're name is Teddy Graham? Like the little graham cracker treats shaped like Teddy Bears?!
Teddy: Well, my name is Theodore, but I prefer Teddy.
Koda: Ok, just so that was cleared up. But anyways, I'm finished with Danny and them. We beat them in a match where the losing team had to disband. I mean, you guys can go after them if you please, but we a finished with them.
Jason: Ok, we'll take care of them. After the next PPV, they'll no longer even BE in the EWT! We'll make sure of that cousin.
Koda: Whatever....come on Job, let's leave my "special" family here.
As Koda and Job leave, the camera follows them, and leaves the Celts behind.
Koda: Teddy Graham? Are they serious?!
Koda and Job continue to chat amongst themselves as we fade out.
Koda's Favorite Fall 2016 Anime Openings and Endings
Post by The Bad Man on Aug 13, 2007 8:38:33 GMT -5
We return to EWT ringside and from out of the entrance way both Jose and Joel Maximo are thrown to the floor. They struggle to there feet as out from the back walks Mr. Bad! Sum Guy is still in the ring after firing the T-Shirt gun for the fans and has a microphone
SUM GUY: What in the!? ... Oh no Mr. Bad!
Jose gets up and his chest slaps against Mr. Bad's. Bad a twinkle in his sunken yet vibrant eye sockets grabs him and begins to eat his earlobe, Joel tries to help but he too is grabbed and now both are locked under the arms of Mr. Bad as he waddles to the ring. He begins to pick up speed, until he's moving rather quickly for such a grotesque man and slams them both into he ringside head first!
(The crowd jeers and boos)
Mr. Bad grins as he pulls out a small hammer from his rolls of fat and lifts Joel up into a piledriver position. 'Two Times the Pain' connects as Joel discovers a new meaning of the word suffering as his head connects with concrete and a hammer connects with his groin. Mr. Bad gets up and latches on to a struggling Jose Maximo who he throws in the ring.
SUM GUY: Er... Ladies and Gentlemen I give you Mr. Bad ... help!
Mr. Bad enters the ring with a chair and points at sum guy to stay where he is, he meanwhile latches the chair around Jose's neck, before using the ropes for a running splash across the neck! Jose begins to cough up blood as Mr. Bad looks at his art. He turns back to Sum Guy.
SUM GUY: I ... erm ... Why did you do that? Why did you turn on Curly Long and Mr. Big? Why? ... ...
Mr. Bad approaches like a slug that just awoke from it's slumber, he takes the microphone in his flabby hand, eyes darting, his cracked wrinkled face a sight to make a blind man cry
MR. BAD (Raspy gurgling voice): Flheh ... Flheh ... Because I knew it would end like that ... flheh
Mr. Bad leans in to Sum Guy his gut almost swallowing him whole
MR. BAD (Raspy, gurgling and stern): I knew those two were weak! I knew they were nothing! I knew there pain and blood soaked bodies would excite me ... and I knew without me they would crumble into nothing ...
SUM GUY (Terrified): how ... Hwo .. How did you know that?
MR.BAD (Raspy, gurgling, stern yet giddy with a sadistic excitement): because .. I am The Bad Man! ... flheh flheh .. I know others will suffer, others will be made to bleed, others in this EWT that have nice fresh meat for me to rip open .. flheh flheh ...
The Bad Man grabs a hold of Sum Guys face and rakes his eyes, Sum guy now blinded can do nothing as The Bad Man applies the Bayanhongor Fracture Clasp! Sum guy's shoulders look like they might buckle as The Bad Man adds to his misery by biting his face and nose with those rotting yellow teeth. Some backstage officials race to the ring but dare not get close.
(The crowd boos, and chants 'Bad Man Die!' loudly)
The Bad Man drops Sum Guy who is now limp like a fish his face a bloody mess, He curls around looking for another victim the blood of Sum Guy on his scarred and craggy face, his mouth a sneering laugh tasting the iron. His hunched from stalks forward and out of the ring. As the officials check on Sum guy and The SAT the sadistic bowl of pudding shaped man that is The Bad Man lumbers backstage, dangerous and evil.
[Tard Grisham is standing by backstage with Smarky, who has a noticable look of disgust on his face]
Tard: Hello ladies and gentlemen, I'm Tard Grisham, and as per usual, I'm here with Smarky, who has quite a few subjects he'd like to speak about.
Smarky: [Grabs microphone from Tard] That's right Tard. Now, before I get into anything about Old School, I have something to say on the subject of my name, which, apparently, is an object of ridicule to CERTAIN people. Now, as an EWT wrestler, I carry myself with a certain amount of dignity. I don't ask people to bow down to me and scratch my ass everytime it's itchy...though that would be pretty nice. But one thing I DO expect is to not be LAUGHED AT during my entrance during my very first EWT PPV APPEARENCE! So, since my name is such a HILARIOUS subject to all you jackoffs in the stands, I, the wrestler FORMERLY known as Smarky, am changing my name.
Tard: Doesn't that seem a little drastic?
The Wrestler Formerly Known as Smarky: Not at all. If I want to be taken seriously here, it's the next logical step.
Tard: You asked your Magic Eight Ball about this too, didn't you?
TWFKAS: I tell you too much.
Tard: Alright Smarky-
TWFKAS: The Wrestler FORMERLY KNOWN as Smarky!
Tard: OK, Wrestler Formerly blah blah blah, what is this drastic name change?
TWFKAS: Two Words: Jonnie Sparks.
Tard: Jonnie Sparks?
Sparks: Jonnie Sparks.
Sparks: Because I feel like it DAMMIT! Is it that odd for a man to change his name, right out of the blue, because he feels inadaquate?!
Tard: Kind of.
Sparks: Well, as I've said before Tard, you're opinion means nothing to me. Now, can we get to the actual questions please?
Tard: Fine by me. How do you feel about your match at Old School?
Sparks: What do you mean MY match? I was barely a part of it! I only got half a move in on that pool cue swinging boy scout and that was it! Virus tried to take on both of them at once, and it earned both of us a loss.
Tard: Well, weren't you laughing at him and the Guardinals when you could have helped him?
Sparks: It reminded me of a joke alright? See, there's this priest, a rabbi, and-
Sparks: OK, I'll tell it to you later. It's a killer though.
Tard: What about your post-match antics? Not exactly the most sporting thing you've ever done, I'm sure.
Sparks: A little payback never hurt anyone. C'mon Tard, even you should know that. Now, Virus, on the other hand...that's a different story. I don't know what's going on in that guy's head, but I do know this, you CANNOT let a girl get into your head in a wrestling match! I've stuck by that philosophy my entire career.
The familiar theme of CHANCE TIME rings out, the crowd booing immediately as the ring has been set up with the usual decor, the same fancy black leather furniture, a royal purple carpet spread out across the ring, as the giant replica of Big Ben with Chance's face plastered on each clock face is visible. Soon after, Sweetest Perfection fades in, the crowd turning toward the entrance way, as the lights lower. Suddenly, the lights lower, as from out in the back, a group of random women run out, each of them wearing some sort of gold bikini's with a C on each cup. They skip out, stopping at the left at the stage, as soon after, a group of random men run out, also wearing gold, though only sporting speedos, with a pair of C's also visible, as they run over to the other side, both of these groups slowly bowing down as from out of the back, a pair of GOLD painted stallions trot out, pulling behind them, an also gold chariot, with the man who took down Oceanic, Chance Confidence, riding the reigns. He smirks, giving a wave to his adoring public, reaching down and pulling out a whip, snapping it over at the women, who quickly run off. He then snaps it again, catching one of the men in the face, who yelps in pain, scampering off, the others following suit. Chance chuckles, as he looks up at the ceiling, suddenly a rain of money coming down! the crowd goes nuts, cheering and trying to grab it... only to come to a startling discovery. This currency is nothing more than Monopoly money! They instantly start booing angrily again, tearing the fake cash to shreds, as Chance starts laughing his ass off at the fan's stupidity. He snaps his whip once again, the horses trotting down the ramp way, as Chance continues waving to the crowd, still rabid with anger. He soon rolls down to the bottom of the ramp, just outside of the ring. The young man reaches into his pocket, slipping on a headset microphone, also coated with gold, as he reveals his own extravagant attire. He's wearing a gold suit, with a silver tie and boots. He also has on a pair of green tinted sunglasses, which also look to have been dipped in gold. He struts over to the apron, leaping atop, flipping into the ring as usual, then walking toward the turnbuckle, stopping himself, as he takes in this glorious return, then doing an extra long handstand, hopping off and removing his suit jacket, revealing a pure shiny silver shirt. He walks over to the easy chair, flopping into it and laying back, raising a single finger, causing a shower of golden pyros to shoot up from each turnbuckle, then lowering it as they instantly shut off. He clears his throat loudly, tilting his shades down on the bridge of his nose.
Chance: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... and I use that term quite loosely here, I bid you welcome once again to the glorious event that you commoners absolutely adore and wish you could be part of... not gonna happen... the greatest segment in the history of the EWT and quite possibly your very lives, a show I like to call.... CHANCE TIME!!! I'm your glorious host, who needs no introduction whatsoever. If anybody forgot my name, which means all the imbeciles out there, about ninety percent of this audience, you may simply refer to me as, your MESSIAH!!!
The crowd even more loudly, quickly remembering how much they hate ol Chance. He doesn't seem to care at all, lazing back in his chair calmly, as he kicks up his feet.
Chance: Now then, a deity such as myself deserves a glorious entry for his return, just like the one you poor peasants witnessed. You see, I'm a guy that always steals the bloody show and this time, I am here to lock the damn thing up and throw away the key! Considering my competition though, that hardly seems like a challenge. After all, our new EWT Champion is a pathetic man known as John Two. He's followed by a bunch of cronies, such as Candice Purple, Richie Putty, and the brain dead gorilla they dressed up in S & M gear as their enforcer. They've also got those Tag Team Champions in their ranks, ABC, who I have to admit, not bad at all. I mean, their light years out of my level of skill, but those two might just have an aura worthy enough to become as great as I... well, probably not THAT great.
Chance smirks, sitting up now, as he hops up, walking over to the outside, where the time keeper is about to open a bottle of water. He struts over, snatches it out of his grip, and pats him on the head.
Chance: Thank you miserable peon. I was getting parched... though I'd prefer to settle for more than this common bottled filth water. Ah well, H2O is H2O. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. Who else do we have as champions around here. Well, we've got the Toolshed Champion, Sir Steelass, some kind of chivalrous lunatic who needs to be banished to the stone ages. We've got Glassasoda, my ol pal that I killed those costumed freaks with, so he's cool in my book. Plus we apparently ended up driven him so insane, he's joined a cult! Maybe they'll drink some kool aid and jump off this mortal coil. Oh and last, and definitely least, our Tri State champion is the off spring of Punchy and a Pineapple! But we'll get to that later on.
The crowd boos angrily at this little remark, as Chance unscrews his water, takes a sip, then spits it right in the time keeper's face. He grimaces, taking the whole thing and dumping it right over his head.
Chance: Ugh... that's worse then tap water.
He walks back over and climbs into the ring, as he wipes his mouth, before sitting back in his seat.
Chance: Now then, as you all recall, the last time I was full time in the EWT, well I was feuding with ol Mercy. Let me just say right here that I DID NOT BAIL BECAUSE I WAS SCARED! I simply needed to relax and I figured if I were to humiliate that bumpkin by destroying him in that match, well... that's a waste of my talents. Luckily I realized that after my rant. On top of that, the resident Trishophile has been recently kicked out! Let me tell you, the minute I heard that news, I threw a huge bash... invited all my worthy friends, nearly wrecked my homestead, bribed the neighbors so they wouldn't call the fuzz. It's just a shame he had to get his grubby paws on the EWT World Title before the stain left us.
The crowd actually cheers this.
Chance: You sheep. I say one thing you happen to agree with and you start slapping your fins together.
The crowd quickly turns on Chance again, who grins, laying back further in his chair.
Chance: I later came back to help Soda like I said, not as a favor to any of you, mind ya, but just because I love messing with that winged rat. So it should come to no surprise that I accepted a certain invitation to come back and align with someone else worthy of my presence. I speak of course, of my good friend and filthy rich pal, Ratings! You see, he had a little proposition for me. The first request, help him and ol Toomi keep tabs on the sea hag and her pet Clownfish, ol Swirly. The second request, well... let me just bring him out here right now to explain things. Ratings, COME ON DOWN!!!
Keep on Liftin by DJ Naguero starts up on the Toomitron, as the booing continues to build, the crowd clearly not fans of either of these men. Especially not together. (Insert Ratings Entrance here)
Ratings then walks over to Chance, reaching out and shaking his hand, as Chance nods.
Chance: Welcome my physical and mental equal. It is truly a pleasure to have you, my chum, on the hottest and most glorious shows in all of EWT.
Ratings: The feeling is quite mutual my friend.
Chance: Good to hear! Now then, why don't take a seat? I hope that this expensive couch over here will suffice with comfort.
Ratings walks over, sitting down simply on this seat, nodding and laying back a bit as well.
Ratings: Indeed it is. I assume this is real leather?
Chance: Of course... I don't do imitation! People say it's the sincerest form of flattery, when it's really the most sincere form of ripping things off!
Chance: So Ratings, I suppose we better explain ourselves to all these miserable rodents out here. Might as well inform them on the upcoming future of the EWT.
Ratings: Of course. For the longest time, outstanding gentlemen such as myself and Chance have played the role of the watchers. We have watched the beginnings, the ends, the highs and the lows of EWT superstars--from the lowliest wrestlers of talent and charisma to the top of the proverbial "food chain". We watch ever so carefully and ever so patiently. And do you know why we watch? Why we take a back seat and allow those who are inferior reap the awards? It is quite simple... simpletons. Because it makes things so much enjoyable for us when we take what is ours--whether it be titles of gold or bragging rights on who is the best--and leave those with what they truly are in this world... nothing.
Chance: There you have it, straight from the well groomed, vibrant, and healthy horse's mouth. You see, Ratings and I have formed an alliance of sorts, if that wasn't apparent already to you slobbering imbeciles. That is the truth though, for you see, Ratings and I are SICK of all the flawed uncultured beings scampering about backstage, like they matter. These pitiful beings are a virus of failure! Whether it's the Cycle Squad, Tinypak, or Rated G, Raggle, John Two, Swirly, the fact is... almost each and everyone of of you are scum! You think you're so damn hip, strutting around like your the belle of the ball, when your really the ugly chick who stands on the sidelines all night. You say you're the greatest thing since Sliced Bread, when a moldy loaf of the stuff has more class than you! You think you're all cock of the walk, when in reality, everyone of ya are more like lazy crap covered swine that get where you are by luck!
The crowd begins booing loudly again, as Chance watches, rather bemused.
Ratings: And then there is the EWT "fans". Fans that make Nascar dads look like royalty. You who fill these arenas each and every week are the most pathetic of all. You save every penny to by a ticket and cheer for those who you dream to be. And unless you have wealth, power and prestige like myself and Mr. Confidence, dreams don't come true. You waste your life away daydreaming of being someone else... someone you'll never be.
Chance: Well said my friend.
Ratings: Your praise is much appreciated, Chance; but I digress. You see EWT fans and superstars alike, what you are looking at in this very ring at this very time is the best wrestling has ever offered. The ultimate alliance. The superior power trip. United, we will take on all comers of all sizes and they fall before our feet in utter defeat. For when my eyes look at my wrestling peers, I see no threat that can stand against us from achieving our destiny. Joe One? Nothing more than push over in a blue bodysuit. Mike Ragnal? He looks like a troubled Pokemon character. If I ever fight him, I don't know if he'll fight me himself or summon one of those mentally retarded monsters to do his bidding. Mike Corral? All talk and no talent, much like his Rated Wangsters crew. The list goes on and in the end the fate will remain the same. Whether be the Mild Squad or that gosh darn Jiminy Thunder or by golly Jason Jupiter. Your names are as pathetic than your "live the gimmick" (cough) POSERS (cough) personas.
Chance: You see though, there are two people out there in that crowd of failure, that stand out amongst the common sea of filth, with an aura of more concentrated failure then them all! I speak of course about Pineapple Pam and that whale of fail.
Ratings: Yes, yes, oh yes... how could we not forget Oceanic. That woman has the class and beauty of a deformed monkey.
Chance: What's even more of a travesty is Pam there has gotten ahold of the Tri State championship! A title I once held in a glorious reign, this very title that she is sullying! Don't call me sexist, but man or woman, that creature has no right to hold that prestigious belt! Just picturing you gripping the strap of it makes me wants to wretch.
Ratings: Speaking of Oceanic and vomiting, let us not forget her tenure as General Manager of EWT. In the span of only one month, she led EWT to a financial crisis. Thanks to her incompetence, Toomi now has that jackass Dorf as co-owner. But the weight of that fault does not just fall on your shoulders, Oceanic. Part of the blame goes directly to the whisper in your ear, that oaf... Maelstrom.
Chance: Of course, we'd be foolish to leave out Wet Willy. He's no better, EWT Champion?! How in the bloody hell did you gain possession of that title?! The only reason you got the title is through sheer luck pal. I'm pissed that shark didn't chew you up to bits and swallow you whole, so you could stay away from that picture forever. No though, you somehow escape and meet up with your boss. Before you know it, Ocean Annie wins that Battle Royal through an epic fluke and the whole place goes to hell! You spend money like there's no tomorrow and of course, give your buddy there an undeserved EWT Title Shot. Luckily Ratings and I made sure that you didn't walk out with that belt. It's just a shame you were quick enough to avoid an oncoming vehicle.
Ratings: Nevertheless, Maelstrom: your days of reigning dominance and fear in EWT are numbered. Just like everyone else who stands in our way. For WE, are the elite. WE are perfection. WE ARE... The Elite Perfection.
Suddenly the familiar tones of From Sinking pick up on the Toomitron, as Chance quickly stands, looking on angrily toward the Toomitron.
Chance: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?! THIS IS MY SHOW... YOU WEREN'T INVITED, SO GET OUT MY SIGHT WENCH!!!
It seems that nobody's coming out though. Chance looks around wildly, as Ratings slowly stands as well, also searching around. Suddenly, the pair enter from opposite sides of the crowd, as Maelstrom slides in from one side, as Oceanic enters from the other! Ratings and Confidence quickly give each other a cautious look, sprinting away and out of the ring, as Oceanic and Maelstrom stand in the ring now, the leviathan of the deep walking over and hoisting up the expensive leather chair, charging and chucking it out of the ring, almost sending it crashing into the pair on the outside, as Oceanic walks up close to the ropes, leaning over them and giving the two a rather pleased look. Maelstrom walks over meanwhile, grabbing and flipping the couch, sending it out of the ring. He then walks over, grabbing and shoving the Big Ben thing over once again, sending it to crashing to the outside! The crowd cheers loudly, as Chance is practically seething, having just witnessed his set destroyed. Ratings is meanwhile giving a none too pleased look as well, the two of them backing away for now, as the duo inside the ring raise their arms in triumph, having gained a measure of revenge.