Post by David Sanchez on May 23, 2016 15:41:07 GMT -5
Your Name: Jason Cruickshank
Wrestler's name: David Sanchez
Nicknames: The Plague, The Omen, The Last King of Wrestling, Dirty,
Gimmick: After vacating the WCF United States Championship after War 2015 David dissapeared into a downward spiral of substance abuse and agoraphobia, refusing to leave his stately manor in the Orange County of California until April of this year. Much to his dismay; he discovered that although he may have stopped, the world kept on spinning nonetheless. His wife and son had abandoned him, his select group of friends had dis-banded and left him to wallow in his own self-pity and the wrestling organization he had become a focal point of had carried on as though he never existed. Fueled by a combination of resentment and an urge to be viewed as the greatest and most physical wrestler of his time, David has taken to lacing up his boots once more and put pen unto paper with WCF once more. David is a cynic, an educated individual who could have had anything he desired in life were it not for his many vices. This time he is out to make his mark on those who have replaced him, be they face, heel, timekeeper or stagehand.
Height/weight: 6'3, 215lbs
Hometown: Orange County, CA
Alignment: Heel (although he is prone to targeting heels who he feels aren't living up to the classification)
Appearance/attire: Black and purple MMA shorts with black knee braces and black wrestling boots. He has spiked dark hair on top of his head and shaved sides. Both of his sleeves are tattooed and there is also a very distinguishing, large blackvrose inked up the right side of his ribcage.
Wrestling style: Works at a very methodical pace similar to Jericho’s latest (ages ago I know) world championship run. Can speed things up if the match goes in that direction. Strong-style wrestling with a background in Brazilian jujitsu make this submission specialist a force to be reckoned with. Also very prone to getting in the face of audience whilst outside the ring, and trash-talking opponents between the ropes.
Common moves:
Stomps to grounded opponent (targeting out-stretched limbs)
European uppercut
Armbar takedown (variations of)
Rear naked choke (when possible)
Tilt-a-whirl backbreaker
Tilt-a-whirl gut buster
Headbutts, usually aimed a the trapezoid muscle of the neck and shoulder.
Knee drop to downed opponent (ala Ric Flair, minus the wooo!)
Snap suplex
Butterfly suplex
Roundhouse kick (rarely a headshot, usually towards quads and abdomen)
Hangman’s neckbreaker
Environmental moves:
Cornerstone Blues - Simple DDT, mashing opponents head into the bottom turnbuckle pad in the corner.
Who Put That There? - Butterfly suplex into turnbuckle or crowd barricade.
Trademark moves:
[CNE] Central Nervous Ending - Crossface chickenwing with nerve pinch on trapezoid.
Castro Clutch - Triangle chokehold.
Devil’s Advocate - Spinning sit-down powerbomb.
Tramadol Nights - Snap brainbuster
Finishing Moves:
Medusa’s Touch - Running Yakuza kick.
Euthanasia - Dragon sleeper with tight leg scissors once opponent is grounded
Entrance:
The arena falls into a tepid silence as the opening guitar riff to Royal Blood’s “Out of the Black” begins to trickle out of the PA system, starting quiet and building to a thunderous din as the words kick into action. The crowd are perplexed at first until the titantron does the legwork in identifying who is coming to the ring by showing highlights from the career of David Sanchez’ various matches in other companies mixed in with what little vignettes and matches he has had here in WCF.
You made a fool outta me,
You took the skin right off my back honey.
So don’t breathe when I talk,
‘Cause you haven’t been spoken to.
The song play on as the audience erupts into a sea of distasteful chants and a rapture of hissing, gesturing and miscellaneous disapproving noises. David Sanchez appears centre stage, his eyes unblinking as he soaks in the loathing. Dressed in his simple wrestling gear of purple cage-fighting shorts, taped wrists, Black and purple boots, capped with fingerless black gloves he appears a much different man than he does behind the curtain. In contrast to his drug-addled antics of promos both past and present this impressive specimen wears only one additional item to approach the ring, a T-shirt he had launched through his wives’ online fashion outlet. The slogan branded on this simple black garment reads “[FEAR] Fuck Empathy” in purple font.
Announcer: Making his way to the ring from Newport Beach, California. Weighing in tonight at 213lbs, he is the self-proclaimed Last True King of Wrestling; David Sanchez.
David’s emotionless stare at the crowd turns into a grimace at hearing the words “self-proclaimed” as a prefix to his accolades and he begins a slow pace to the ring. No pyrotechnics are launched, nor do the lights flicker. He believed simplicity was more intimidating than flashing strobes, smoke and fireworks. As he walks he removes the aforementioned T-shirt, an action which draws a slight stirring from the fans closest to the ramp who believe they may be given this item of clothing. Instead, upon acknowledging this optimism, Sanchez simply hangs the T-shirt over the optical lense of the cameraman who had been documenting his walk to the ring causing a momentary fault in focus which is quickly dealt with as the low hissing turns into a tidal wave of boos by those disheartened by his inability to share.
I’ve got a gun for a mouth,
‘Got a bullet with your name on it.
A the music shifts back to a heavy guitar solo David Sanchez slides under the bottom ropes and leaps back to his feet, staring down the ring announcer without so much as batting an eyelid at the audience. With this final blatant disregard for showmanship he turns back to the stage, awaiting his opponent whilst stretching out his limbs in a warm-up. He acts as though the arena is empty, as if this was simply a practice run. A slightly troubling smile appears on his previously void of emotion complexion as the music ceases and the crowd’s obvious resentment for his presence surrounds him like a warm blanket of hate.
Wrestler's name: David Sanchez
Nicknames: The Plague, The Omen, The Last King of Wrestling, Dirty,
Gimmick: After vacating the WCF United States Championship after War 2015 David dissapeared into a downward spiral of substance abuse and agoraphobia, refusing to leave his stately manor in the Orange County of California until April of this year. Much to his dismay; he discovered that although he may have stopped, the world kept on spinning nonetheless. His wife and son had abandoned him, his select group of friends had dis-banded and left him to wallow in his own self-pity and the wrestling organization he had become a focal point of had carried on as though he never existed. Fueled by a combination of resentment and an urge to be viewed as the greatest and most physical wrestler of his time, David has taken to lacing up his boots once more and put pen unto paper with WCF once more. David is a cynic, an educated individual who could have had anything he desired in life were it not for his many vices. This time he is out to make his mark on those who have replaced him, be they face, heel, timekeeper or stagehand.
Height/weight: 6'3, 215lbs
Hometown: Orange County, CA
Alignment: Heel (although he is prone to targeting heels who he feels aren't living up to the classification)
Appearance/attire: Black and purple MMA shorts with black knee braces and black wrestling boots. He has spiked dark hair on top of his head and shaved sides. Both of his sleeves are tattooed and there is also a very distinguishing, large blackvrose inked up the right side of his ribcage.
Wrestling style: Works at a very methodical pace similar to Jericho’s latest (ages ago I know) world championship run. Can speed things up if the match goes in that direction. Strong-style wrestling with a background in Brazilian jujitsu make this submission specialist a force to be reckoned with. Also very prone to getting in the face of audience whilst outside the ring, and trash-talking opponents between the ropes.
Common moves:
Stomps to grounded opponent (targeting out-stretched limbs)
European uppercut
Armbar takedown (variations of)
Rear naked choke (when possible)
Tilt-a-whirl backbreaker
Tilt-a-whirl gut buster
Headbutts, usually aimed a the trapezoid muscle of the neck and shoulder.
Knee drop to downed opponent (ala Ric Flair, minus the wooo!)
Snap suplex
Butterfly suplex
Roundhouse kick (rarely a headshot, usually towards quads and abdomen)
Hangman’s neckbreaker
Environmental moves:
Cornerstone Blues - Simple DDT, mashing opponents head into the bottom turnbuckle pad in the corner.
Who Put That There? - Butterfly suplex into turnbuckle or crowd barricade.
Trademark moves:
[CNE] Central Nervous Ending - Crossface chickenwing with nerve pinch on trapezoid.
Castro Clutch - Triangle chokehold.
Devil’s Advocate - Spinning sit-down powerbomb.
Tramadol Nights - Snap brainbuster
Finishing Moves:
Medusa’s Touch - Running Yakuza kick.
Euthanasia - Dragon sleeper with tight leg scissors once opponent is grounded
Entrance:
The arena falls into a tepid silence as the opening guitar riff to Royal Blood’s “Out of the Black” begins to trickle out of the PA system, starting quiet and building to a thunderous din as the words kick into action. The crowd are perplexed at first until the titantron does the legwork in identifying who is coming to the ring by showing highlights from the career of David Sanchez’ various matches in other companies mixed in with what little vignettes and matches he has had here in WCF.
You made a fool outta me,
You took the skin right off my back honey.
So don’t breathe when I talk,
‘Cause you haven’t been spoken to.
The song play on as the audience erupts into a sea of distasteful chants and a rapture of hissing, gesturing and miscellaneous disapproving noises. David Sanchez appears centre stage, his eyes unblinking as he soaks in the loathing. Dressed in his simple wrestling gear of purple cage-fighting shorts, taped wrists, Black and purple boots, capped with fingerless black gloves he appears a much different man than he does behind the curtain. In contrast to his drug-addled antics of promos both past and present this impressive specimen wears only one additional item to approach the ring, a T-shirt he had launched through his wives’ online fashion outlet. The slogan branded on this simple black garment reads “[FEAR] Fuck Empathy” in purple font.
Announcer: Making his way to the ring from Newport Beach, California. Weighing in tonight at 213lbs, he is the self-proclaimed Last True King of Wrestling; David Sanchez.
David’s emotionless stare at the crowd turns into a grimace at hearing the words “self-proclaimed” as a prefix to his accolades and he begins a slow pace to the ring. No pyrotechnics are launched, nor do the lights flicker. He believed simplicity was more intimidating than flashing strobes, smoke and fireworks. As he walks he removes the aforementioned T-shirt, an action which draws a slight stirring from the fans closest to the ramp who believe they may be given this item of clothing. Instead, upon acknowledging this optimism, Sanchez simply hangs the T-shirt over the optical lense of the cameraman who had been documenting his walk to the ring causing a momentary fault in focus which is quickly dealt with as the low hissing turns into a tidal wave of boos by those disheartened by his inability to share.
I’ve got a gun for a mouth,
‘Got a bullet with your name on it.
A the music shifts back to a heavy guitar solo David Sanchez slides under the bottom ropes and leaps back to his feet, staring down the ring announcer without so much as batting an eyelid at the audience. With this final blatant disregard for showmanship he turns back to the stage, awaiting his opponent whilst stretching out his limbs in a warm-up. He acts as though the arena is empty, as if this was simply a practice run. A slightly troubling smile appears on his previously void of emotion complexion as the music ceases and the crowd’s obvious resentment for his presence surrounds him like a warm blanket of hate.