Post by Kencedro on Aug 21, 2006 17:15:54 GMT -5
OOC: I had this completed earlier, just forgot to post it.
==
At Sunday Slam, a perilous accident occurred. When Drake Kencedro accidentally knocked Honey Valentine off of the ring apron, sending her head first into the steal guardrail. To busy within the match, once coward like JJ Biggs went to Honey’s aid, as Biggs’ partner tried to capitalize. Kencedro still managed to fight the match, as he and Nate Nytro got the win. Making Drake’s record three wins, and zero losses. The Australian export is undefeated going into Ultimate Showdown, but will Biggs up his game to finally get one up on Drake? Or will JJ Biggs’ strike out and have basically three losses to Drake. What is in the future for both of these men? Will this saga come to an end? Or will it just be a chapter for a book known as possible the biggest rivalry of World Championship Federation history?
==
The scene opens up just minutes before Slam is going off the air. The back of the arena is filled with the production crew, and some fellow roster members seen here and there. Drake Kencedro is suddenly seen on the scene. Drake seems to be on hot pursuit on someone, or something. As Drake continues to search around backstage Hank Brown slowly struts onto the screen. With a microphone in hand, Hank hopes to catch a few words with Drake.
Hank Brown: Drake Kencedro!
Drake pretends Hank call his name, as Drake makes his way down a lonely corridor. Drake seems to be heading back to the men’s locker room arena.
Hank Brown: Drake, can I get a quick word?!
Drake continues to search the hallway, glancing into every room that has an open door. Hank Brown continues to follow Drake down the hallway. Being only a couple foot steps behind Drake.
Hank Brown: DRAKE!
Drake stops his searching, as he turns around with a pissed off expression on his face…he turns to face Hank Brown, and he stares down the mind-numbing WCF interviewer.
Drake Kencedro: What the hell do you want?
Intermediation beats through the soul of Hank Brown, as Hank gets an expression on his face as if he shit his pants. Hank slowly backs up, but he suddenly remembers what he needed from Drake Kencedro.
Drake Kencedro: Hey, that’s the look JJ Biggs gets every week before I bash his damn skull in with a steal chair.
Hank Brown wipes the expression off of his face, as he clears his throat to talk to Drake.
Hank Brown: I was just…hoping to get a few words with you.
Drake Kencedro: About what?
Hank reaches into the front pocket on his suit, and he pulls out a couple of index cards.
Drake Kencedro: I thought you said a few words, not a damn novel.
Hank Brown: Alright, then.
Hank proceeds to put the index cards back into his pocket, as Hank shoots the first question.
Hank Brown: Uh, how does it feel to get another win under your belt, Drake?
Drake ponders for a moment, before replying to such a pointless question.
Drake Kencedro: Well, it feels the same as any other moment when I get one over on JJ Biggs.
Hank Brown: I sense much hatred from yourself to JJ Biggs.
Drake Kencedro: What are you, a psychic?
Hank Brown: Moments ago, we seen you knock Honey Valentine off of the ring apron…what went through your mind there Drake.
Drake Kencedro pauses briefly.
Drake Kencedro: Geez Hank, I was thinking if I still had your wife’s phone number so we could hookup after the damn show.
Hank gets a look of disrespect over his face, as Drake continues to ramble on.
Drake Kencedro: What the hell do you think I was thinking? Having some loser that I have beaten two weeks in a row…basically steal my manager…who knows what he is doing to her.
Hank Brown: Well I saw Mr. Biggs, Mr. Hudson, and Miss Valentine leaving the arena earlier.
Drake Kencedro: How long ago?
Hank Brown looks down at his watch.
Hank Brown: I’d say ten minutes ago…They’re long gone by now.
Hank chuckles, as Drake reaches across the screen, and shoves Hank Brown into a door of an enclosed room. Drake turns the cameraman to face him, as Drake gets right up into the camera.
Drake Kencedro: JJ, you son of a bitch. I’m giving you one more match…I have proven myself for the last two weeks that I am truly better than you. Biggs you may have been born better than the competition, but by far…you cannot hold a candle to me.
You want to create a wildcard, by stealing Honey this week. JJ you need to prepare yourself son. In this match there is no disqualifications, so when I bash your fucking skull in with a steal chair, the ref can’t call for the bell.
I can use any weapon to my advantage, as so can you. But the thing is…I’m going to end your career this Sunday. I will beat you within an inch of your life. I vowel to walk out of the arena this Sunday, and as I glance back at you…I will see you laying on the mat…and you will be drowning in a pool of your blood.
JJ this isn’t going to be match this Sunday.
This is going to be a war.
Drake pauses as he stares a hole through the camera, as the scene slowly fades out.
==
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==
At Sunday Slam, a perilous accident occurred. When Drake Kencedro accidentally knocked Honey Valentine off of the ring apron, sending her head first into the steal guardrail. To busy within the match, once coward like JJ Biggs went to Honey’s aid, as Biggs’ partner tried to capitalize. Kencedro still managed to fight the match, as he and Nate Nytro got the win. Making Drake’s record three wins, and zero losses. The Australian export is undefeated going into Ultimate Showdown, but will Biggs up his game to finally get one up on Drake? Or will JJ Biggs’ strike out and have basically three losses to Drake. What is in the future for both of these men? Will this saga come to an end? Or will it just be a chapter for a book known as possible the biggest rivalry of World Championship Federation history?
==
The scene opens up just minutes before Slam is going off the air. The back of the arena is filled with the production crew, and some fellow roster members seen here and there. Drake Kencedro is suddenly seen on the scene. Drake seems to be on hot pursuit on someone, or something. As Drake continues to search around backstage Hank Brown slowly struts onto the screen. With a microphone in hand, Hank hopes to catch a few words with Drake.
Hank Brown: Drake Kencedro!
Drake pretends Hank call his name, as Drake makes his way down a lonely corridor. Drake seems to be heading back to the men’s locker room arena.
Hank Brown: Drake, can I get a quick word?!
Drake continues to search the hallway, glancing into every room that has an open door. Hank Brown continues to follow Drake down the hallway. Being only a couple foot steps behind Drake.
Hank Brown: DRAKE!
Drake stops his searching, as he turns around with a pissed off expression on his face…he turns to face Hank Brown, and he stares down the mind-numbing WCF interviewer.
Drake Kencedro: What the hell do you want?
Intermediation beats through the soul of Hank Brown, as Hank gets an expression on his face as if he shit his pants. Hank slowly backs up, but he suddenly remembers what he needed from Drake Kencedro.
Drake Kencedro: Hey, that’s the look JJ Biggs gets every week before I bash his damn skull in with a steal chair.
Hank Brown wipes the expression off of his face, as he clears his throat to talk to Drake.
Hank Brown: I was just…hoping to get a few words with you.
Drake Kencedro: About what?
Hank reaches into the front pocket on his suit, and he pulls out a couple of index cards.
Drake Kencedro: I thought you said a few words, not a damn novel.
Hank Brown: Alright, then.
Hank proceeds to put the index cards back into his pocket, as Hank shoots the first question.
Hank Brown: Uh, how does it feel to get another win under your belt, Drake?
Drake ponders for a moment, before replying to such a pointless question.
Drake Kencedro: Well, it feels the same as any other moment when I get one over on JJ Biggs.
Hank Brown: I sense much hatred from yourself to JJ Biggs.
Drake Kencedro: What are you, a psychic?
Hank Brown: Moments ago, we seen you knock Honey Valentine off of the ring apron…what went through your mind there Drake.
Drake Kencedro pauses briefly.
Drake Kencedro: Geez Hank, I was thinking if I still had your wife’s phone number so we could hookup after the damn show.
Hank gets a look of disrespect over his face, as Drake continues to ramble on.
Drake Kencedro: What the hell do you think I was thinking? Having some loser that I have beaten two weeks in a row…basically steal my manager…who knows what he is doing to her.
Hank Brown: Well I saw Mr. Biggs, Mr. Hudson, and Miss Valentine leaving the arena earlier.
Drake Kencedro: How long ago?
Hank Brown looks down at his watch.
Hank Brown: I’d say ten minutes ago…They’re long gone by now.
Hank chuckles, as Drake reaches across the screen, and shoves Hank Brown into a door of an enclosed room. Drake turns the cameraman to face him, as Drake gets right up into the camera.
Drake Kencedro: JJ, you son of a bitch. I’m giving you one more match…I have proven myself for the last two weeks that I am truly better than you. Biggs you may have been born better than the competition, but by far…you cannot hold a candle to me.
You want to create a wildcard, by stealing Honey this week. JJ you need to prepare yourself son. In this match there is no disqualifications, so when I bash your fucking skull in with a steal chair, the ref can’t call for the bell.
I can use any weapon to my advantage, as so can you. But the thing is…I’m going to end your career this Sunday. I will beat you within an inch of your life. I vowel to walk out of the arena this Sunday, and as I glance back at you…I will see you laying on the mat…and you will be drowning in a pool of your blood.
JJ this isn’t going to be match this Sunday.
This is going to be a war.
Drake pauses as he stares a hole through the camera, as the scene slowly fades out.
==
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