Post by Doc Henry on Sept 27, 2009 8:40:25 GMT -5
Doc stands in the lobby of the Plaza Hotel, looking out at Central Park.
"It's here, War. A brutal match worthy of it's name. 30 men, 1 winner."
Turning to look at the camera, Doc smiles.
"The prize for this match, a shot at the World Championship. Imagine that, a boost to one's career, proving your one of the elite."
As Doc begins to slowly walk through the lobby toward the elavator, a man shouts out.
"Go back home you southern hick, avoid the beating T. O. T. will bring you!!!"
Doc snears at the man, then looks at the Concierge, "Garçon, I do believe I spent enough on a room here to not deal with this riff raff."
As Garçon escourts the man out, Doc enters the elevator he inserts his key in the slot marked PH.
"Let's see, most of the competitors are nothing but fodder, still there are enough to cause problems. First off we have Reb. Probably the best the WCF has to offer, he'd still have the title, had Mikami not wormed hyis way into the match."
Doc exited the elivator to a small foyer outside his suite. Entering the lavish room, he let the doors shut, and made his way to the balcony.
"Speaking of Mikami, while I don't see him as World Champion material, he's still enough to be a threat in the match. Beatable, but a good speedbump to keep a watch on.
Slicke T, anyone who comes in last will have an advantage, small as it is, he can still cause problems, being the freshest man in.
Logan can be a problem in this match. He's won it twice, and been in enough to know how to use it to his advantage. He may be approaching the end of his career, but dangerous enough.
Torture's little asskissing, knob polishers, well they'll be working together, but I guarantee that'll be thier downfall.
There is I think a dark horse in there, Mr. Price. A cocky arrogant young pup whose been on a roll. I'm not sure I like him. There's just something about him that reminds me of... well... me. Doc pauses and thinks, "No I'm sure of it, I hate him."
Doc lights a cigarette, the only place where he can smoke in this burg.
"So there you have it. A handful of talent in a bucket of shit. That's right, I May be the number one Contender for the US Title, but I'll happily trade that for a shot at that Word Title. Sure my buddy Reb is going for it as well, but I don't care who it is that wins War, me or him. It'll be either one of that, I guarantee. Then on to a date at the World Title, and victory, restoring it to honorable hands."
"It's here, War. A brutal match worthy of it's name. 30 men, 1 winner."
Turning to look at the camera, Doc smiles.
"The prize for this match, a shot at the World Championship. Imagine that, a boost to one's career, proving your one of the elite."
As Doc begins to slowly walk through the lobby toward the elavator, a man shouts out.
"Go back home you southern hick, avoid the beating T. O. T. will bring you!!!"
Doc snears at the man, then looks at the Concierge, "Garçon, I do believe I spent enough on a room here to not deal with this riff raff."
As Garçon escourts the man out, Doc enters the elevator he inserts his key in the slot marked PH.
"Let's see, most of the competitors are nothing but fodder, still there are enough to cause problems. First off we have Reb. Probably the best the WCF has to offer, he'd still have the title, had Mikami not wormed hyis way into the match."
Doc exited the elivator to a small foyer outside his suite. Entering the lavish room, he let the doors shut, and made his way to the balcony.
"Speaking of Mikami, while I don't see him as World Champion material, he's still enough to be a threat in the match. Beatable, but a good speedbump to keep a watch on.
Slicke T, anyone who comes in last will have an advantage, small as it is, he can still cause problems, being the freshest man in.
Logan can be a problem in this match. He's won it twice, and been in enough to know how to use it to his advantage. He may be approaching the end of his career, but dangerous enough.
Torture's little asskissing, knob polishers, well they'll be working together, but I guarantee that'll be thier downfall.
There is I think a dark horse in there, Mr. Price. A cocky arrogant young pup whose been on a roll. I'm not sure I like him. There's just something about him that reminds me of... well... me. Doc pauses and thinks, "No I'm sure of it, I hate him."
Doc lights a cigarette, the only place where he can smoke in this burg.
"So there you have it. A handful of talent in a bucket of shit. That's right, I May be the number one Contender for the US Title, but I'll happily trade that for a shot at that Word Title. Sure my buddy Reb is going for it as well, but I don't care who it is that wins War, me or him. It'll be either one of that, I guarantee. Then on to a date at the World Title, and victory, restoring it to honorable hands."
