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wrpd: revival (Roleplays Go Here)
Topic Started: Jan 28 2018, 01:04 AM (224 Views)
wrpd
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Post all roleplays for 2/3 NYC Manhattan Center event in reply to this thread.



Deadline is 2/2 at 11:59pmCentral

Limit is 2 roleplays max.

No more than 1 roleplay in the last 24 hours, please.

No Word Limit.

Send strats / segments to this account on the board as soon as possible, and before 2/1.



OOC Discussion: HERE



We're back next Saturday, February 3rd, in NYC at the Manhattan Center, with a special, spontaneous event.

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WARPED Wrestling is holding an official live event for the first time in 15 months. Additionally, this will be the first event in the United States for WARPED since March 2015.

For all 3 matches, the match will start off as a singles match. Throughout the week, drawings will be made to find out the order of entry.

The FnX Title will headline the event, crowning our first ever FnX Champion. (FnX is our version of hardcore, Fuckin' Xtreme, brutality is incredibly encouraged. Roleplays that are also graphic and violent in nature will get bonus credit...)


FnX Title 3 Way Dance:
PKA vs. Mr. Rottentreats vs. Joe Stanton

The Evolution Title is vacant and a champion will be crowned as three champions in their own right battle over what was once the most prestigious title in the company.

Evolution Title 3 Way Dance:
Owen Gonsalves vs. Crowbar vs. Mark Storm

The Junior Heavyweight Title has a short but storied history, and will go to the best high flying, technically sound wrestler, who can outlast 3 other WARPED talents!

Junior Heavyweight Title 5 Way Scramble:
Wally Lee vs. Johnny Vachon vs. Larkyn Matthew vs. Nick Redfield vs. Jason Richards








Edited by wrpd, Feb 2 2018, 03:11 PM.
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New York.

It felt like he'd been visiting the place he'd called home a lot more than he'd like to, especially within the last month or so. It wasn't that he hated New York. It's just that it reminded him of a life he didn't have anymore, a life he chose to ignore and instead pursue a dream of professional wrestling. New York was a place where his ghosts rested and whenever he revisited they'd jump back to life and haunt him, as if they were there but he knew that they weren't. His mind loved to play games with him.

But with every visit the more comfortable he became and it was like he hadn't left the place at all. The last couple of weeks had been tough on him, a grueling schedule that saw him compete over a dozen times and the month of January had only just finished.

Those matches he'd been involved with, he endured a reasonable amount of success, building his profile and becoming a household name internationally. Mexico, England, Japan. They were now his hunting grounds and he loved that fact, it comforted him. And now what waited for him was an opportunity to come home, back to where it all started.

WARPED Wrestling.

That's where he'd hone his skills. That's where he'd make himself a man. Despite breaking into the scene prior to his time there, it was with WARPED that he began to make people's heads turn. People began to care. They'd tune in, buy every DVD that WARPED sold on their website just so they could see the upcoming talent who named himself; "The Reckoning of Professional Wrestling".

What would follow was immense success after the closure of the promotion. He went to Extreme Wrestling Corporation, became a World Heavyweight Champion within the first few months and held the title for several months. He'd return to WARPED when they reopened, stringing a series of victories before becoming their first ever Junior Heavyweight Champion. He'd finally done it. He'd finally won a championship belt in the promotion he adored the most.

But like things do in life, they end and his time as champion came to a swift end. He saw it coming. He couldn't hold onto the title because he had bigger dreams, dreams of having the world in his hands and that stretched further than a limited division. He wanted WARPED Wrestling to be his and the only way it could be was if he held their most prestigious title. The opportunity never arose as the company would once again close it's doors.

Fast forward two years, and Your Hero and Mine is a completely different man.

"Did you miss me?"

The voice belongs to Your Hero and Mine, Mark Storm.

"I bet you did. I know I did." he says, his voice calm and composed.

He has a smile on his face though you can't tell whether it's sinister or not, it's just a plain but you'd assume that there's something lurking behind that smile. He bites his lip, clasping his hands together as he begins to pace up and down this small space that he finds himself in, a corridor of sorts. Behind him there's a poster that reads: WARPED REVIVAL, a picture of himself as well as multiple other competitors who are contracted to the event. He's wearing his black suit and tie with a flower perched in his jacket pocket, a white rose that he picks out and holds, smelling it before placing back into his pocket.

"I missed this. I missed you. But now, we're back. And we're back stronger than ever. It's funny, every time this places opens back up for business you see a change in me. Something always changes because we're always evolving. Evolution is the key to self improvement, I believe in that. When you first saw me I was a rookie trying to get into the big leagues, trying to rustle the feathers and rattle the cages and attract some attention to me. And it worked, companies started to give a fuck about me like they never did before.

Second time round I was pretty well established. Championship reigns and notable matches in my accolades, I'd achieved and coming back here I was no longer the rookie, but the favorite. The man who you expected to win every single match he was involved in no matter the opponent, no matter the circumstance, I was expected to win. And I did, getting my hands on that Junior Heavyweight title and beating anyone who dared to face me.

Now? Now, I've reached an omega level. I'm at my peak right now and everything seems to be going in the direction of Your Hero and Mine. This year alone I've already picked up three championship belts and it's only February. I've already ticked off names from the list of people I want to face and I've already main evented some of the biggest events January had to offer. Now, I'm regarded as one of the best wrestlers in the world. Now, I am Your Hero and Mine!"


He sounds confident and more refined, a lot more comfortable than our last encounter with the character. He's sure of himself now, he knows who he is.

"I epitomize evolution, the concept of it as a whole. So it only seems fitting that I find myself in a match for the Evolution title. A match that pretty much sums up how far I've come in the last few years. Because I'm not facing any nobodies. I'm not facing mediocrity. I know my opponents. I know how good they are. I know that they are two of the top competitors in this promotions. And I know that it's going to take everything in me to beat them. But beat them, I will.

You see, I've come a long way from where it all began. I started at the bottom and if we're going to be honest with ourselves fellas, I've found myself right at the top. There is no disputing it. I've become one of the best in the world and it's not been through me asking for opportunities. It's not been through me kissing ass and trying to be everybody's best friend. It's been through me working harder than anybody else and earning those shots, earning those accolades, earning the respect of my peers and becoming more than just a carbon copy like everybody else.

And I pride myself on that fact. The fact that everything I've ever accomplished, I've earned. I've earned the right to be one of the best in the world. And the two of you, whilst I must admit and have already admitted, are two of the most talented on this roster, right now you're not near me. Right now, you're just another name on the card. Right now, you're just two victims who've had the unfortunate task of beating the unbeatable!"


Pausing, he allows his words to fully digest with the viewers before continuing.

"Owen Gonsalves. You and I, we've butted heads a few times. You're apart of the critically acclaimed Shootcamp brand and despite our two groups hatred for one another I can honestly say that I respect you. I respect everything about you, Owen. I've always respected you because you're not like the others. You're not on of these talkers who don't back up their nonsensical opinions with actions, whilst you do. You back up what you say with what you do in the ring and it's no secret that last year was your breakthrough year. Last year, you managed to reach the finals of the Frontier Lions Cup, you and Ace both picked up those tag titles in KAMIKAZE Pro and you had some classics matches. You're a credit to this sport and you've mastered your craft.

Despite all of that Owen, you won't beat me. You won't beat me because you don't have it in your locker to beat me. Despite all of your success last year, there's a correlation of results that I couldn't ignore. Sure, you won the KAMIKAZE Pro tag titles but for how long will you hold onto those titles, Owen?

Sure, you reached the finals of the Frontier Lions Cup but you lost, making you the biggest loser of them all. All those matches you deemed as successes, that were ranked five stars on whatever ranking system you found online, they were all matches you lost. You wanna knows what that tells me about you, Owen?

It tells me that when there's pressure, you crack and you're unable to get the job done. Me? I get the job done no matter the occasion. It doesn't matter if I'm against one guy or two or four, I get the job done by whatever means necessary. I can't say the same for you... so what makes you think you can beat me? No, Owen. You're good. But you're not that good."


He clasps his hands together, taking a few seconds to recuperate.

"Crowbar. A legend. You've done it all and seen it all, Crowbar. You've been here from the damn beginning and when people think about the names that have walked through this company, it's yours that comes to mind first. I respect you too. I respect you for everything you've done for this company and that's a hell of a damn lot. You're one of the last remaining originals, do you know how rare that is? You were there through thick and thick, going nowhere because you love this promotion, don't you? You love everything about WARPED Wrestling! It's strengths and it's flaws, the people who scream your name whether it's out of love or hate doesn't concern you, because it's still your name they're screaming. And with an Evolution title already in your accolades, as well as the world title, you'd expect yourself to be the favorite in this one... wouldn't you?

But you're not, Crowbar. I am. I am the favorite in this match and I'm sure that infuriates you, being in a position where you're the underdog but it's 2018. It's 2018, and times have changed Crowbar, you and I have changed. The positions have switched and now you find yourself as the underdog in this match whilst I'm the favorite. I don't mean that trying to be mean. I'm just being honest with you, man to man. The torch has been passed and I'm the one who's holding it, but you have this obsession in reliving the glory days and hoping that you can achieve everything you already have. But that isn't happening, not when I'm here - not ever. That's not happening because as long as I'm here, this is my realm. This is my playground! You want my advice? Let go of it! Let go of the hope of reliving those glory days! Let go of the hope that you can revisit them! Let go of the hope that you can beat me because if you don't, it's going to torture you! I'm going to remind you, whether you like it or not, that you're passed those days of success. Those days for you, are over! The sooner you realize that... the better."


Coming to a halt, he stops pacing and faces the camera.

"All in all fellas, there's only one man who can walk out with that Evolution title this Saturday. And on paper, it's clear who that man is. On paper, it's going to be the man who's returning home to New York. On paper, it's going to be the man who's been evolving constantly ever since his first appearance here in WARPED Wrestling. It's going to be the man who wants it more than the both of you, the man who's willing to put everything on the line and is ready to go to hell and back, and dammit that man is me. Your Hero and FUCKING MINE!"

The scene fades to black.

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Win | Draw | Loss
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The scene opens showing Patrick Kay Anthony, dressed in all black, sitting on the cold, concrete floor against the cold, white, concrete wall. His eyes are dark and his expression is blank.

"In the bedroom, some have called me hardcore.

In the hallways, some have referred to my personality as hardcore.

Backstage, many will say I'm hardcore invested in this business.

In life, hardcore describes my passion for the things I love.

I love inflicting pain and suffering in the ring, too. Not only that, but I love it when it's done to me.

Yes, once again, that applies to the bedroom...

But in the ring, blood is a bit more appreciated than in the bedroom, so I tend to keep THAT side of me to the squared circle.

WARPED Wrestling has finally, and I do mean FINALLY in all caps, brought back an amazing championship that most feds WISH they had in their arsenal. I'm of course speaking of the FnX Championship.

I was with WARPED President Joey Matthew on that August afternoon in 2003 when he was brainstorming for his upcoming project - Headstrong Wrestling. I was there when he came up with a name I'd never heard before. Believe it or not, he was reading a newspaper and, straight shoot, he got the name from some ad for a new show on the relatively new FX Network.

"FX.." he said aloud. "FX .. FnX.. "

I already knew what he was talking about. I'd been trying to convince Joey to bring a hardcore division to the company. My storied career began in WoW, later renamed NWO. World Online Wrestling and Netlink Wrestling Organization, those were my homes for three years, and those were where the world was first introduced to Patrick Kay Anthony, when all PKA meant was Pain Kicks Ass. Who needs a real name?

But what they did know was that the Brutality division in WoW and NWO were things I loved, and thrived in. My first ever televised match could be considered FnX, when I battled in a 3 Consecutive Tables Match. That set the tone for a career of chaos and massacre. That's when I got my first taste of blood, and I wanted more.

FnX is where I thrive. It's my home. But I've worked a majority of my career to escape it, because when people think of hardcore shit, they think of shit wrestlers. I'm not one of those. Over the years, I busted my ass to learn from the best in Japan, Mexico, Europe, Canada, and the US. I learned how to hone my craft as a pro wrestler, all to set up classic lucha, puroresu, and any other kind of mat-based and high-flying style matches. My goal was to show the world that I could fucking wrestle, and boy can I ever do that.

That wasn't what I truly wanted, though. There was always more. I busted my ass to learn to wrestle and I got damn good at it, but there was always something in the back of my mind that I wanted to show the world. I wanted to burst through that closet door and show them just how fabulous I could be as an ultraviolent wrestler. Yes, that analogy came true later in my life just as much as you're imagining now. It's like a gay man spending the most of his life trying to convince everyone he loves vagina. Shit, that ain't me. I love the dick, and I want to beat somebody over the fucking head with it until they bleed. That's what gets me off. So please, Mr. Rottentreats and Joe Stanton, lend me your cocks, so that I can rightfully suck the life out of both of you and bleed you dry, inevitably becoming the first ever WARPED Wrestling FnX Champion. Because this Saturday night, when I step foot into that ring and beat up my best friend, and later on that slut Joe Stanton, I'll have no fear.. no limits.. just pain, and plenty of it to dish out. See you fucks at the Manhattan Center."

Fade.



-ultraviolent perfectionist-
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[cut]
Larkyn Matthew, dressed with a leather jacket, grey beanie, and blue jeans, stands against a tree in Central Park in New York City. He's got a flannel shirt tied around his waist, his hands tucked into his pants pockets, as he looks out into the afternoon sky. He reflects on his past.


"All of the parties and the raves... the drugs and the booze... the women... the late nights and the early mornings... That's been my past year. Even when my brother and I united to form a tag team, it still wasn't meant to be. But this is WARPED."

He lowers his head, thinking of when his father's creation was still alive and well, and then it wasn't.

"WARPED was dead. It was buried under the ashes for well over a year. The fun that was had in this company, and the history that was made? That lasts forever. So while it seemed as though the fire destroyed every possible structure, any possible foundation, blown out every window and burned up every ring rope, I see a future for us. I see the smoke escaping and I see the fire dissipating. I feel life bleeding out of the past and breathing new air into the future. This is WARPED: REVIVAL.

February 3rd is a big deal... not just for WARPED... but for the Matthew family. You see, for as long as I've been a wrestler, my father has forbidden me from wrestling in his company. I've never been allowed to step into the ring as the son of Joey Matthew, and that all changes this Saturday in the Five Way Scramble Match for the Junior Heavyweight Championship. Wally Lee, Johnny Vachon, and Nick Redfield are all newcomers to a WARPED ring, but Jason Richards is not. The late addition who is always late to the building who is always late to breaking up the pinfall... oh, Jason Richards. I have watched you since the very beginning days of WARPED. You're a hell of a wrestler, and your kicks look like they hurt a lot, so I think I'll do my best to avoid those. Wally, Johnny, and Nicky? You're all extremely talented individuals whom I look forward to stepping into the ring with, and stepping over as I walk out of the ring as the brand new WARPED Wrestling Junior Heavyweight Champion. Because this business is in my blood. I was destined to do great things here. And Saturday night in the Manhattan Center, one of the most famous buildings in WARPED Wrestling history, I'm going to start that show off right by bringing gold back home to the Matthew family. Then, the night will close when a man who has always been an older brother to me, PKA, will walk out as the first ever WARPED FnX Champion."

With confidence, Larkyn Matthew looks into the camera.

"This is going to be a night we'll never forget. This is my revival. This is OUR revival."

[cut]

Edited by Larkyn, Feb 2 2018, 03:11 PM.
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“I’m just going to assume that if you’re watching this…”

A teal haired, scar laden, pale faced man turns to look directly into the lens.

“You know who I am, and you know what the hell WARPED Rasslin’ is, and you know there’s a damn show this Saturday. For the uninitiated, roll that beautiful bean footage.”

If you’ve seen one Mr. Rottentreats promo you’ve seen them all. Here’s where his favorite clips of himself against his favorite opponents would play; most likely making himself look like the wrestling god that he is. You know? The flips, the flops, the sloppy yet snug chain wrestling. The hastily chopped together footage of the Clown Prince Of The Cravate closes with:
The Rotten One Returns
Saturday, February 3rd
New York City – The Manhattan Center


Once the frame returns the man’s painting his face like a clown. A wrestling clown?! Who would’ve thunk!

“I’m making my way to New York City, the only city on this earth that I hate more than Tokyo, Japan. To the only fucking venue I hate worse than Korakuen Hall; The Manhattan Center. I swear to the Carnival if I ever have to step foot in that wretched overrated Japanese gymnasium one more time…”

The barrel of a pistol enters the frame; grazing the chin of Mr. Rottentreats. The Wicked Clown Of WARPED sticks his tongue out, as a stream of nearly black liquid arches in the air; emanating from the pistol. Licking his lips; he continues.

“Oh, you get the picture!”

Scratching his temple with the squirt pistol; he snickers. Treats opens an orange and white bag; dropping the pistol into an otherwise empty bag.

“Fuckin’, Japan.”

Sprawling out in his oversized recliner; Treats continues.

“Did you really think that would work? Our fans want us here! Our fans want us in shitholes like the Manhattan center. Our fans; the WARPED Faithful! They want us bleeding all over American Legion Halls and the unsanitary convention centers that plague this god forsaken country of ours!”

Sipping from a glass Root Beer Faygo bottle; the Pagliacci Of Professional Wrestling carries on.

“And that’s exactly what I’m about to do Saturday. Three Generations of hardcore, ultraviolent, death match rasslin’, fuckin’ xtremely grimey blood is going to spill all over The Manhattan Center; courtesy of Patrick Kay Anthony and Joe Stanton. Saturday Night’s alright for fightin’ it’s also my favorite night to get fuckin’ xtreme.”

A set of pink and blue finger nails dip into the frame; releasing a small black box from their grasp.

“Thanks, Cupcake. Now where, were we?”

A dainty giggle is heard off screen.

“Ah! The Blood Red Ruby that’s soon to be set in my crown.”

Treats taps his right temple with a white glove covered hand. Soon thereafter the full set of pink and blue finger nails gingerly places a white golden crown atop the clown’s head. Dead center is a hollow X; obviously for Xtreme.

“It’s like they’ve always said. Heavy is the head of the clown who wears the WARPED crown! Tag Team Champion, World Champion. Longest reigning and greatest Evolution Champion of all muthafuckin’ time! And soon to be…”

The sound of flesh is picked up by the camera as the half painted clown crosses his arms to form an X.

“The Fuckin’ Xtreme Champion. The F’nX Title itself. A title created specifically so PKA could catch his blood laced nut during the Headstrong Days. Which by the way, an honor to step in the ring with you Peeks. On the other hand it’s a shame I have to put you down in order to get what I want. Why the F’nX title? Why isn’t the Junior Heavyweight title coveted by yours truly? It’s surely not because I can’t hang. No, no. It’s simple. I’m not a pompous jackass that gets his jollies off by flipping and flopping around. Me?! I love to move furniture!”

The clown jumps to his feet; without spilling a drop of his Root Beer Faygo. In same breath his over sized recliner is sent toppling to the right.

“I’ve never been afraid to spill a little blood. Be it someone else’s…”

Squatting down the Harlequin of the Headlock finishes off his pop; busting the bottom on the concrete floor below him. With a slight wince he drags a chunk of the glass across his own chest.

“…or my own. Especially when it comes to championship gold. Our past opponents don’t matter. Nothing of the past matters. What matters is the now. And now is the time I become the WARPED F’nX Champion. By any means necessary. After all, isn’t that what F’nX is all about? Weapons, Chaos, ultraviolent destruction of one’s self and anyone who may be billed to be in and around the ring with you? Well, IT SURE AS HELL IS!”

Caught somewhere between James Ronie and Mr. Rottentreats, he drags the jagged glass bottle across his half painted forehead; continuing his rant.

“Just like the Evolution championship; I’ve pined for you my blood soaked darlin’! Albeit not so publically. After all, they didn’t want me to go that route. They didn’t want me following in their footsteps. The very same wrestling boot prints laid by my grandfather that they attempted to fill! Yet, here I am! Finally getting my shot! This isn’t about Stanton or PKA. This isn’t even about me! This is about upholding a legacy, just like I did with the Evolution championship. A legacy that include a plethora of names I won’t even begin to bore you with. A list of names I’ll never get the chance to tussle with. Because they’re all a bunch of old ass cry baby bitches now!”


A noticeable hop appears as he begins to pace; favoring his heavily taped left ankle.

“Missing an eye, and down one ankle. I’m going to uphold the legacy you sorry sacks of shit couldn’t bear to carry any longer. Old and broken down. I may be broken down, but I’m not old, and I’m definitely not dead yet. So, Joe! Pat! Get your bitch asses to the Manhattan Center for this asswhoopin!”

Squatting down once more; Mr. Rottentreats places shards of glass in his mouth. Static overtakes the frame as the Wicked Clown Of WARPED begins chewing the glass; blood oozing from his lips.
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Former concurrent World/Evolution Champion
A darkness looms an undisclosed area.

The sounds of traffic can be heard in the distance, though by the sound, you can tell they're miles off, and it's late at night. From the shadows, a voice is heard. A familiar voice. A twisted voice.

"Some say home is where the heart is..."

"I've never really put much stock in that, until now..."

"But..."

A lighter flame flicks on as Crowbars face appears briefly, a light off to the right also turns on. The location still unknown.

"Home isn't where your heart is. Home is where you bled it out. Where you had injuries, laughter....they associate the saying with family...blood family....well if anything in the past is to go by, with the amount of blood we have all shared in the WARPED ring, I'd say we're all bound by blood. We will return, no matter where we are, no matter what we're doing."

He leans back a bit.

"Revival. I like it. I'll admit, when approached with it, I almost damned near had a heart attack. Never thought it'd happen. You know what though? Fuck I'm glad it did."

He leans forward, with a grin and yells.

"I'M HOME, BABY!"

After composing himself, he continues.

"So, firstly, at this moment, I'd like to address something. Just ever so quickly....Revival, that's what this show is about right? and no, I'm not going there..where I'm going with this is, this is almost like my revival from a slumber. The stirring of the love of wrestling is coming back, and I get to show that, in a triple threat match, for the Evolution Title. Excellent."

He inhales deeply on a cigarette then flicks it over his shoulder.

"Firstly, I want to address Mark Storm....I hear you, I do, and despite all I've seen and done, everyone knows if I'm shown respect, I show it back, so respect to you. I appreciate the kind words, really I do, and maybe down the line we can get together, have a beer and a laugh, and celebrate a great show..but for right now, we're rivals, which means I'll do what I do best...injure, maim and retire people, which includes you! Though maybe I'll just try to injure you, respect and all."

He chuckles a bit.

"Seriously though, you're right, I've held the Evolution title, the World Title..at the same time! Though, you know, I'd be quite happy to run with the Evo title again, it felt pretty good around my waist last time..also suited PKA when I gave it to him....hm. Anyway, you say I'm the underdog going into this match...I can kind of see it...how did you put it....'stop trying to relive the glory days'....well, I haven't even started. If i wanted to relive the glory days trust me, I'd probably be in jail at this point, or standing with a group formed out of the toughest sons of bitches in this company, but no, I'm not trying to relive anything...I'm bringing them back. I know I know, cliche, right? Look, I understand, in the way of this match, I'm not the underdog, I'm the threat, I'm a former champion, I've been known to use all kinds of violence, dirty tricks, all the fun stuff, but trust me, it's still my house. I know you'd like to think somewhere that you've taken over, but I was here the day the company closed...and may have had something to do with it, and I'm back here for the revival. Where were you? Turning tricks in your mothers basement for wrestling school money? Don't talk down to me, good sir, whether you meant it as insulting or not, I think I've just upgraded you into the maim category, though if you decide to be a thorn in my side, you'll go up to retire very quickly."

A drink is taken from what looks like a water bottle.

"Then I remember something else you said 'Not while I'm here', congratulations! you just hit the Retirement level of destruction! Lace your little booties up tight, dust off the glory hole in the basement, and get ready for a new career. I'm not giving anything up, I'm taking the Evolution title, and sending you back to your pimp mother."

He rolls his neck, in thought.

"You know I don't exactly know who the hell the other guy is. I really don't. I mean, have we met? Are you some random from parts unknown? Sorry but your name really doesn't ring a bell to me, and if it should, well maybe I've had my bell rung too many times."

Crowbar shrugs

"In any case, while I don't doubt you'll try and put up as much of a fight as Storm, who I have heard of, I just really don't see you coming out as much, just a jobber between two guys who want the title, you know, the ones they sometimes put in as comic relief, although back in the day it was usually midgets or something....wait, are you a midget? That'd be awesome if you were, I'd almost let you win, mini-evo champ! Though I'm guessing you're not, so my heart sinks. Whoever the fuck you are, prepare for Crowbar."

He chuckles

"To end, sure, just like PKA, I've been called many things. Crazy, Psychopath, Abomination, Fuckin' Xtreme, some shit in Japanese I didn't understand but was probably cool, though at the end of the day, I'm just me. I am who I am. Am I violent? Sure. A Psychopath? Probably. Fuckin' Xtreme? Most Definitely. Worthy of the Evolution Title? Yep. Though, remember this, kids: I held it before you. I don't need to live up to your standards, it's you two that need to live up to mine. Now the question is, can you do it?"

He chuckles again, like he's been hanging around Rottentreats too much, before walking off into the darkness, the light flickering and then dying, slowly fading out to black.



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Crowbar. The only man in WARPED to hold the Evolution and World Titles simultaneously.
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The scene opens on a photograph of Joe Stanton, it's at least a few years old, Stanton's a few years younger by just a general glance and one other massive clue as to how old the photograph is is what wrestling ring he's standing in in it. It's a WARPED wrestling ring. The camera gradually zooms out to reveal the hand holding it, wrapped up in scarlet red athletic tape and the shot pulls out even further to reveal the arm & some of the upper body of the man obscuring his face with the photograph.

"The first time I stepped into a WARPED wrestling ring was what feels like an age ago, I was a different man, younger, less experienced, just beginning to carve his career out and I don't fault anyone who forgets that it happened or what happened during it. I had some success, but it was a brief engagement, a blink and you'll miss it sort of deal. In no small part thanks to the fact that after a few months of being with WARPED another company I had been signed with transitioned all of its contracts into exclusive talent contracts, meaning I wasn't allowed to perform just anywhere I want. Which meant as much as I loved performing in front of WARPED's crowds, and performing for the company, and as much as there were talents I wanted to climb my way up to facing eventually here...I had to go."

The photograph is lowered and surprise! It's Joe Stanton present day! A little more wear on him now, a little more beard on him now too.

"I never forgot about WARPED, I try to keep my eyes and ears peeled on as many promotions as I can, but specifically I checked on this promotion. This promotion because, like I said, there was talent here I wanted the opportunity to face someday. And, maybe at that then and now I couldn't, but who knew what the future held, yeah?"

It's with the shot zooming out even more that it's clear the Scarlet Speedster is filming this in the locker room area backstage somewhere. If I were a betting man, judging by how sweaty he is and how he's wearing his ring gear, and going by the fact the IJPW Death Crown Championship is on his shoulder I'd say it's the IJPW Revolution Begins event. He runs a hand through his damp hair.

"When I heard confirmation about the rumors, about the rumblings that WARPED was even having one return show I jumped at the chance to step into this ring again, to perform in front of these people again. Five, six years later and I've conquered the promotion I was with at the time, hell, I've since signed with another global sized promotion and have fought the best they had to offer and have been able to scale that mountaintop too, being free from an exclusive contract I've been fighting all over the world. I've had my share of success and I like to think that my name is starting to mean something to more than just one promotion's set of fans. But..."

Wiping some sweat from his mouth, Joe tries to recount exactly how long it's been now since he stepped into a WARPED wrestling ring. It's hard after so much abuse over the years But he presses on and he briefly brings up what he's been up to, rising to the top of NGIW and becoming NGIW Champion, then going to FIW after NGiW"s eventual demise and eventually becoming FIW Champion there too. He throws out his hands to his sides when he explains he's been wrestling all over the world, adjusting the title on his shoulder before he raises up an index finger & closes his eyes.

"I can't stress enough how quick I was to contact back WARPED management when I heard from them. Opening match, middle of the show, wherever, I didn't care where they put me, I just wanted in, I wanted to celebrate and pay tribute to a promotion that I never forgot about and always had a special place in my heart for. So I don't think anyone can quite imagine my shock at the match they booked me in, with who they booked me against and for what."

He shakes his head, a smile on his face when he mentions he how scrambled to hash out the details of the booking. Waving his left hand, he holds the IJPW Death Crown Championship steady on his shoulder with his right hand. His smile only growing larger when he brings up where he is in the show.

"The main event, the fact that I'm there over some of the biggest names in WARPED and some of the biggest names in the industry performing today is...just..."

Not quite fully choked up, Stanton is a little lost for words initially.

"It's devastatingly humbling and immensely honoring to let me have that spot, to give me that level of responsibility, to allow me that spotlight to share with the other participants in the match. This is an opportunity that presents itself not very often in one's career, sometimes never for some, and you best believe that I'm doing absolutely everything in my power to ensure that when that when I hit that ring I am going to deliver wholly everything I am possible of delivering at this point in my career. The WARPED management and the WARPED fans, and my opponents are not just going to get some of my best work, they're going to get the best work I have, they're going to be given the best fight I can give. Because this fucking means something to me."

Joe's voice gets a little shaky, a little trembling with an overwhelming sense of emotion when he continues. He keeps that index finger pointed upward and his eyes burn with intensity, his words electric with passion when he swears an oath to what he intends to bring to Revival.

"Because those people I talked about earlier, the ones I always wanted to face here? Two of those men I will be sharing the ring with at Revival, P K A and Rottentreats. Not just two of the toughest, most violent S.O.B.s that WARPED has ever seen, but two of the toughest, most violent S.O.B.s the world has ever seen are going to be in there with me. To get the chance to test my mettle against them...it's the stuff of fucking dreams, man! I will fucking seek out oblivion with both of them, I will give every ounce of life I have left in this body to show that I can hang and hold my own against these two legends. Because I would rather die than have not gone all out against them."

That index finger is joined by his middle finger when he mentions two of the men he had always wanted to face he's getting. That smile widens further and while initially very happy, there's a bloodlust to the look in his eyes and to the smile as he continues on. The very thought of PKA, Rottentreats and himself trying to destroy each other has his blood pumping.

"And, we're all seeking to destroy each other over the FnX Championship, a title that's history technically dates back before WARPED was even a glimmer in somebody's eye. The opportunity, the honor, again those words come up, of being crowned the very first champion in WARPED's incarnation of it. There's only ever going to be one name in the history book for that. Only one time will we be able to say that somebody did this. At the Revival. In the main event. At the Manhattan Center."

That smile is pretty much a grin now, Joe too thrilled to bits about all of the facets of his match. He's practically like a kid on Christmas when describing the situation with the FnX Championship. It's the cherry on top of this brutal sundae.

"And, if you don't know what I'm capable of yet, PKA, Rottentreats, even some fans out there..."

A sudden smash cut montage of footage plays from various matches Joe Stanton's been in, him setting his right hand on fire to make his Shoryuken entirely too accurate for any sane man, delivering Funeral For a Son (Tombstone Piledriver) onto a pyramid of chairs, using razorwire to slice up a hated rival's eyelids, suplexing someone into thumbtacks in a way that puts them both into them! That's just a few that are seen but the scenes become too sped up, too fast to barely process before it smash cuts back to a close-up on Joe Stanton's face.

"You'll find out on the third."

Fade.
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Redfield
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Greatness is something that could be defined differently by just about every person you could ask. For some, it’s simply getting through the day. For others, it’s impossible to achieve, forever unattainable no matter the triumphs in one’s life. Nothing is ever good enough.

For Nick Redfield, greatness is something he’s been destined to obtain since he began training to become a professional wrestler at the age of 16 under the tutelage of his father, Logan Redfield, and his uncle, the world-renowned, self-proclaimed King of Professional Wrestling, Ricky Valero. Unfortunately, Nick had to learn the hard way that there is much more to success in this beautiful sport than sheer ability on its own. He had to recreate himself, bury himself in film study, work harder in the gym, and, simply enough, be a better person. More humble, more grateful, more driven to earn rather than expect to be given. It took time, but Nick’s career finally skyrocketed in 2017. He cemented himself as one of the must-watch rising stars in the business while excelling as a top-flight athlete as a member of both SAP and New Kingdom PRO.

Nick’s popularity is undeniable, having garnered the respect of his peers as well as the love of wrestling fans throughout the world. But what he accomplished in 2017 isn’t enough. He still believes he can be great, and in order to attain greatness, he must build on last year’s success by turning the industry on its ear, and leaving a mark in every arena he steps foot into. First up? The Manhattan Center for WARPED’s first show in nearly two years: Revival.

Police sirens could be heard in the distance, muffled by strong gusting winds in the stark northeastern winter evening. Backlit by a hazy orange sunset and New York City skyscrapers, Nick stared off into the night with a lot on his mind. He knew a big moment in his career was upcoming, and he was more focused than ever heading into the show.

With a deep breath, he nodded his head and bit subconsciously at the inside of his bottom lip. The SAP star turned his attention from the Manhattan skyline and looked into the camera with a familiar intensity in his eyes.

“I couldn’t resist the opportunity. I loved watching WARPED growing up. The talent. The epic battles. So when I was presented with the chance to compete inside the Manhattan Center on a WARPED branded show, I jumped.”

He chuckled to himself.

“And then the card dropped. My name alongside other renowned stars both globally and on the indy circuit. Owen Gonsalves. Mark Storm. Mr. Rottentreats. PKA. Jason Richards. Make no mistake about it: this show is going to be off the hook!”


A pleasant smirk stretched across the former SAP X Champion’s face as he took a momentary pause.

“But amidst all the glitz and glamour of this massive Revival, my focus is squarely where it needs to be. The WARPED Junior Heavyweight Championship. A five-man gauntlet match that should undoubtedly blow the roof off the Manhattan Center. My opponents? Up-and-coming indy darling Wally Lee, self-proclaimed “gutter trash” Johnny Vachon, Larkyn Matthew, and the world-travelled Jason Richards, whose career I have been following pretty much since Day 1. This isn’t going to be easy. But with God as my witness, this is going to be fun! What better way to usher WARPED back than with a brutal war in front of a rabid crowd begging for blood, sweat, tears, EVERYTHING we have to offer!

“2017 was good to me, but it fizzled at the end. Professionally and personally, life came crashing down around me and I was left to figure out how to piece everything back together. Now I’m not big on New Year’s resolutions, but I vowed when that ball dropped and the clock struck midnight, that 2018 was going to be bigger. 2018 was going to be better. 2018 was going to change the landscape of professional wrestling as we know and love it. And I am the catalyst. I am the man who’s going to take the forefront this year, make damn sure everybody knows my name and leave them in awe of my abilities, the natural talent I have been blessed with, and my success inside the squared circle. For the first 22 years of my life, being the best wrestler in the world was a dream. But in Year 23, that dream becomes a reality, and it starts, at WARPED: Revival!”


He paused once more, mulling over his thoughts as he stared out into the Manhattan night sky with a smile. He turned back to the camera in a much more serious state, his deep blue eyes piercing through the camera.

“So Wally, Johnny, Larkyn, J-Rich...I know you all know we’re stepping into a warzone on Saturday. But I think it’s important you all understand that while I may not be the biggest man in this match and I may not be the most travelled, I am the one with the most to lose in this match and there is NOTHING in the world more dangerous than a man with his back against the wall and everything on the line. This is about pride. This is about glory. This is about triumph. I will stop at nothing, I will hold back nothing to ensure that I walk out of the Manhattan Center with the WARPED Junior Heavyweight Championship in my possession. Every ounce of my blood, sweat, and tears will be left in that ring. Every punch, kick, and piledriver in my arsenal will be unleashed. I expect the same from all four of you. The difference between myself and all of you? I will NEVER SURRENDER. I’ve come too far. I’ve fought too hard to get to this stage in my career. I cannot fail. I cannot disappoint my fans. At Revival, the WARPED Junior Heavvyweight Championship is mine, or else they better be dragging me out in a body bag!"

The fire in Nick’s eyes did not disperse. Instead, his sight remained squarely on the camera in front of him. His face unmoving, basically emotionless through the lens. He let out a deep breath before the scene finally faded to black.
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Wally Lee
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Revival Of The Fittest and Other Tales from the Wallynomicon


[OFF CAMERA | Wallynomicon Blog Post]

Truth be told I work to goddamn much. Don't get me wrong... I love it. I absolutely love it. Getting my ass kicked, kicking some ass myself, its all been a part of the dream. Every bump, every bruise, every sweet victory, and every bitter defeat... I'm happy. Truly happy, because this is what I live for.

You know it's easy for a child to tell you what he wanted to grow up to be. Nothing seems unreachable or unobtainable when you're small. Something as high up as being an astronaut looks within grasp from the undeveloped mindset. But when we get older, our dreams fade away. It becomes masked in a veil that's called the real world. We don't become astronauts... Not because we stopped loving the dream, but simply because someone told us we couldn't do it... That it wasn't feasible.

Fuck. That. Shit.

I think the first thing I ever saw on my television screen was the image of Mass Attraction getting body slammed in the ring by Nigel The Wild Outbacker... Honestly, unless you had public access and watched Delaware All Pro City Championship Wrestling, I doubt you'd know who those men are. But those men, as minuscule of careers they went on to have... They showed me a mere taste of what would become my first love of professional wrestling. I have no shame in saying that the passion and grit shown by two middle-aged men going at it in front of a crowd of like thirty people... It's why I am where I am today.

You're probably wondering why the fuck any of this even matters right? Well everyone has an origin story, yeah? You see I'm not one of your WARPED Wrestling originals... Guys I'm not one of the banner men who put this rogue company on its back and kicked the teeth in of the established wrestling order... No... I can't take credit for the work of these men... These warriors, that I have both the honor and privilege of sharing a locker room with. But don't get a thing mistaken...

I may not have bled for WARPED Wrestling.
But slice me open right now, and you'll see I bleed WARPED Wrestling.

There's something that I identify with alongside this company. See this company has a pulse that just... doesn't quit. That's my approach to life guys. Never quit. Never say die. Never stop marching towards the dream. If a company can hold that close to their hearts and never lose their way... Then that's a company I want to be a part of...

So there we are... Hopefully the WARPED media team can get this circulating to anyone who hasn't seen any of my matches yet. Can't wait to see you guys at the Manhattan Center. You guys bring the dream, I'll bring the fight... And yeah, let's make some magic happen.




"June Twenty-Sixteen, WARPED Wrestling... Total J-Cup. Imagine a smaller, still handsome, younger version of me clicking the shit out of my mouse to order that DVD. You know at the time I wished that the faster I clicked that mouse, the faster that DVD was going to come in the mail."

Wally pauses for a moment as he smirks. He's clad in one of his own "Bomb Voyage" t-shirts, and a pair of slim fitting joggers. The camera pans in close to him, shaky from its operator's hands on the opposite side of him.

In back we can see clearly Wally's at his usual base of operations, the Sussex County Championship Wrestling training gym... The sounds of a few bodies going through a roll-and-bump session though muffled, can be heard right before Wally opens his mouth to continue speaking.

"From Crowbar to Switchblade to Anton to PKA, my education into the world of professional wrestling was seen through by those gatekeepers. I've always loved wrestling... But I didn't quite know what wrestling was until that fateful day I came across my first FnX match video on a message board.

I thought wrestling was amazing, but still so simplified... Punch, kick, get punched and kicked, grit your teeth, make thing big comeback, hit the big move, and smile for the crowd... It wasn't until I saw WARPED that I began to recognize that this sport... In it's most beautiful isn't formulaic... It isn't cut and dry... There's levels to this shit and I threw myself into this company because every match I saw, every DVD I spent my money on... It topped everything I thought I knew about pro wrestling."


He stops once again, looking over his shoulder at the ring not far behind him.

"Kenna catch them... Get them in the shot."

Wally's newly wedded wife's operation of the camera steadies itself as she pans over past Wally's shoulder. The screen centers on a pair of young guys getting some instruction from Metal Heart inside of the ring.

"I used to be them... When I first started I didn't know what the hell i was doing... But look at them. They're smiling just as hard as I was."

Kenna slowly adjust the camera back to Wally as he turns his head back towards the center frame of the shot.

"To me whenever I step inside of the ring, it's almost a religious experience for me. I feel like I'm stepping on holy ground... Because I treat that ring with respect... WARPED Wrestling you can expect that same treatment from me when I grace your banner for the first time...

When I was first approached by the company to even work the Revival show... I almost broke into tears... You see my biggest regret in life is that I wasted too much time simply window shopping my dream of competing in the ring. I wish I could turn back the hands of time. I wish I could have started my training the moment I was old enough to sign that waiver... Because maybe then... I'd be one of the men storming into the Manhattan Center as heroes returning back home to do it all once again.

But I got something close to hold in my heart.

Jimmy Jam Ronie... Mr. Rottentreats yeah?... Well the man called my first ever wrestling match. The man continues to call my matches for SCCW every other Sunday... I don't talk to him much, but from the heart and soul I lay out in that ring... I know he understands me. That's why I didn't even have to approach him to ask for his blessing in performing for a company he helped build with his bare hands... Because I have a feeling he already knows how much this company means to me..."


Wally pauses for a moment to compose himself. His big smile has slowly faded away into a small pursed look of resolve. His pressed his hands tightly together in front of him before, raising his gaze back up at the camera.

"But hey... I'm not just going to sit here and give you guys a history lesson. As happy as I'll be to be wrestling in a WARPED ring... I'm still heading into New York City to conduct business.

And my business plan is simple... Johnny Vachon... Larkyn Matthew... Nick Redfield... and of course Jason Richards... Yeah some WARPED Old heads... Have to try and not mark out.

Beat the living shit outta all of them... And take that Junior Heavyweight Championship! You see I'm not going to run you guys down with everything I've done in the past in my career like some fucking year-end report... At the end of the day the only thing that matters is the here and the now! They say that the present is a gift, and the gift I'm giving you gentlemen will be the gift that just keeps on giving... And that's being a footnote in history.

You see when that next Wally Lee comes along and gets into pro wrestling, when he eventually makes his way to the greatness of WARPED Wrestling, he's going to click on some matches. He's going to click on some title histories... And he'll see that when that breath of life was breathed back into WARPED... The very first match of the new era was Wally Lee, sinking all four of you on his way to being a champion.

You guys are going to be so fucking famous, and I'm truly happy to bring it to you."


Wally pauses for a moment... the bodies in the background can be heard once again... There's even a high picked voice calling out to Wally. However, he remains stone-faced, with his eyes fixated on the camera ahead.

"I'm going to bring everything that I have... Every move, every tear, every ounce of blood and pride that I got in my body... Not just because that's what I do...

But because this match... This night... It. Means. Everything.

I'm not going to sit here and try to decipher what you all are fighting for... Maybe it's more fame... Maybe its for the check... Maybe its just for the title... I'm not going to psychoanalyze you guys and your intentions... But I'm not shying away from this moment... Let me tell you guys what I'm stepping into that Manhattan Center to prove...

I'm heading into this match to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will be the heartbeat... You know you can't have a revival without having some fucking church... And in that Manhattan Center... I'll be the WARPED fanatics...They'll be the choir to my Pastor... And the gospel I have for you guys is that the legacy that WARPED has left in the industry...

Lives on...

You know this could truly be a one-night stand... This company could cease back into the nether once again. But the impact will still be felt... The shockwaves emanating from New York will be so strong... That people will always remember that night... That people will always remember what happened there..."


Wally brushes the side of his mouth, a hungered look remains in his eyes as he keeps looking dead center at the camera...

"If anyone of my opposition feels like they can prove me wrong, then by all means bring your A-Plus-Plus game to that ring... But I'm going to give you the same disclaimer I give everyone I wind up facing.

You think you'll out work me in the ring? Think again.

You think you'll overpower me in the ring? Think again.

You think you'll out fight me in the ring? Think again.

You even think you'll outthink me in the ring? WELL THINK AGAIN!

My work speaks for itself... But still, I don't even have to point out my match catalogue... Because on that cold February Third... the year Two-Thousand Eighteen...

I'm bringing you guys everything... And I'm walking out the Manhattan Center not only as your new Junior Heavyweight Champion...

But the pulse... of the Revival."


With hat Wally abruptly reaches out for the camera, the last lingering visual is the look of pure intensity holding strong on his facial expression. With a violent jerk, his hand covers the screen... Next comes a brief jostling of the lens and then...

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Gutter Trash
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(OOC Note: Didn't validate my account so I couldn't post on time. Figured it out and hopefully it's ok to still post.)

We hear the sound of waves crashing as the scene opens up on a boardwalk. The wooden walkway rests over a large ocean. Large rocks break up the water as it crashes upon them, soaking them with each splash. The wind is blowing a bit causing the temperature to feel a hell of a lot colder then it really is. We can see a few people walking across the boardwalk with their coats and hoodies covering there cold bodies. We then hear the sound of leather as we spot a certain Punk laying on the ground. One leg hangs over the edge of the boardwalk as a bottle rests by his side. He grunts as he notices the camera coming towards him. The Punk swings his leg up and uses the momentum to sit up. He rests his legs over the boardwalk as they hang over the parking lot asphalt. He looks to the camera as we see his face, revealing Johnny Vachon.

"WARPED muthafuckin' rasslin'! A place of legend among those who enter this Godforsaken business! Many names have crossed through WARPED and became legends. And now ol' Johnny Boys name will be on that list! WARPED brings back it's little slice of heaven on February 3rd. And I step in the ring against 4 other WARPED talents! All to fight for that LEGENDARY Junior Heavyweight Championship that has brought so much glory to this company. And what a hell of a match we have!"

Johnny grabs the bottle of takes a swig of its contents. The bottle is covered with a brown bag, but knowing Johnny it's probably Whiskey. We can see he is dressed how he normally is, tight patched up jeans, black Doc Martens, an old WARPED logo T-Shirt, and his custom patched up and studded leather jacket. He lays the bottle down as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and continues.

"Some unknown names, at least to me, etched next to mine in the history books. The only difference between me and them is my name will have a W next to it! I've traveled all across the world trying to make a name for myself. Wrestled anywhere and everywhere for whoever would book me. And now I get my name next to a place with some history. And not only do I get booked in a title match... they throw me in with the Junior Heavyweights! Up until now I've just been known as a Deathmatch wrestler. I could swing a chair and bloody my opponents, but I have yet to show off my REAL talent. I was born to outlast and outwrestle. I love a good scrap, but put me in the ring with some technically sound sons a bitches and I can walk the walk! WARPED saw my untapped talent and decided to be the first to show it off. And when I walk out with that Junior Heavyweight Championship over my head... you'll all realize that ol' Johnny Boy is more than just a chair slinger."

Johnny takes another hit from the bottle as he searches his jacket for his smokes. He pulls out a pack and yanks one out before popping it into his mouth and lighting it up with a cheap Bic lighter. He takes a drag before pulling it from his lips and letting the smoke ooze from his lips. He then holds up 5 fingers on his hand.

"5 men, 1 belt. This will be a spectacle you don't wanna' miss! I know these other flippy dippy fuckers can go in the ring. I've did a little research for this match. Out of all of these talents one name sticks out to me above all of the rest. That name being Jason Richards. He's not new to the WARPED ring. He's been here, kicking the shit out of anyone who steps in the ring. But what happens when you take away his legs? You see, I'm a technically sound wrestler, ready to snap a motherfuckers limbs quicker then they can swing 'em. Kick me Jason. I double dog dare ya'!"

Johnny chuckles as he puts up his fists playfully. He pops the cigarette back in his mouth as he continues.

"This is my chance to not only prove to the world that I'm more than just a Garbage wrestler, but to get a shiny new belt out of it! I'm not just gonna' sit back and let this slip through my fingers. I'll put down the chair and brush off the technical skills. And when I step into that glorious WARPED ring... I'll change that history book for the better!"

Johnny grabs his bottle and hoists himself up to his feet as he takes another drag from the cigarette. He takes a hit from the bottle and then chucks it over his shoulder and into the ocean below. We hear it shatter on the rocks as Johnny simply ignore it and pops the cigarette into his mouth as he walks away from the scene, leaving it to fade to black.
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