Promos for Assault 1/26/18

[Quillz]

***The scene opens in a backstage area in front of a silver and blue curtain. Akira Wyld paces back and forth in front of the camera running his hands through his silver hair and scowling at the ground. After a few moments he stops and turns to the camera.***

WYLD: “Richard Pennyworth III. In six days you and The Surgical Specialist will go head to head in the first round of the Rise of Kings Heavyweight Championship tournament. After two weeks of open challenges that saw me unfairly forced into unsanctioned street fights with Brian Fury and Yamasaki Nakamura, I’ve FINALLY been placed in an official wrestling match with a legitimate technician... and it’s about damn time. I’m AKIRA WYLD, the greatest grappler of my generation. I deserve to match my skills against a true technician who has the discipline and skill to keep the fight between the ropes.”

***Wyld smiles and shakes a finger at the screen.***

WYLD: “But don’t think for one second that that means I’m paying you a compliment Pennyworth. It’s true... I respect what you can do in the ring. You’ve got skills, I’ll give you that. I was watching backstage when you took on Rhett Holiday. Your technique is sound and your submission game is on point... but I’ve been around this business for a long time and I can see beyond your carefully manicured image. You talk about earning your place and improving your standing through hard work. But I say you’re full of it. You’re just another entitled rich boy looking to buy your way to glory. Expensive suit, million dollar training facility, perfect hair... you’re just like Damion Black. You think you can flash your cap-toothed smile and show up in your thousand dollar ring attire and the world will lay down at your feet. You think you’re better than me, and all your false modesty is a poor disguise for a spoiled rich brat with a superiority complex.”

WYLD: “You know a chin-lock from a half-nelson... good for you. You got a win under your belt and your confidence is up... even better. You’re feeling your A-game Pennyworth and I’m glad. Because I’m Akira Wyld... and I’m itching to make an example of somebody in the first round of this tournament. You’re a rich man Pennyworth... but at Assault I’m putting your ambitions in the poor house. And when I’m done with you, the whole world will know that whether it’s brawling, extreme rules, or technical mat wrestling... nobody can hold a candle to Akira Wyld.”

***Wyld stares daggers into the camera as the screen fades to black.***

[Rhett Holiday]

The scene opens with the camera zoomed out from an old dirt crossroads with a single street light flickering on and off. As the camera moves in closer to eye level the sound of footsteps in the gravel can be heard as Rhett Holiday emerges from the darkness.

"Take whatever path you choose, but sooner or later they all come to the crossroads. We have ran parallel for quite some time Yamasaki Nakamura, we've been in the same areas, the same rings, the same locker rooms, and the same countries... Just never at the same time."

Rhett pulls a folding chair from behind the flickering street light and sits dead center in the crossroads.

"This match we have coming up on the twenty-sixth day of two thousand eighteen... It's not just a match, it's not just a main event... Hell it's not even JUST business... This is destiny, this is fate, this collision course has been set in stone since the two of us were put here by our creators! The Divine Psycho vs The Chosen One is going to be the culmination of years, decades, centuries of honing our skills and putting them to the test just to see who walks out of the crossroads victorious and who gets carried out a changed man.."

Rhett leans into the camera with a devilish grin on his face and his green eye seem to pierce the souls of those watching as he rises to his feet taking the chair in hand.

"I know English isn't your first language Nakamura, so allow me to put them in a way they can be understood across all languages..."

Rhett takes the chair smashing himself in the head with it before writing Nakamura in blood across the seat of the now dented chair. As he holds the chair facing the camera he points to the blood written name on the chair then drags his thumb across his neck as the street light dims leaving only his green eyes glowing before the camera fades to black.

[Ameronth]

*The scene opens with a figure dressed all in black with his back to the camera. The figure faces a promotional portrait of Rhett Holiday. The figure is heard muttering indecipherable words as it reaches back it's right hand. Something glistens metallic in the outreached hand which then flies towards the portrait. The figure steps away, revealing a ceremonial dagger stuck in the portrait's throat. The figure then turns toward the camera, revealing the painted and expressionless face of Yamasaki Nakamura. The camera fades to black.*

[Stu]

(Beckett, dressed in a three-piece suit, sits in greenroom in one of two chairs on either side of a low coffee table. As Beckett sips a cup of, presumably, tea, Terry is seated in the other chair, a mic on a small stand on the table.)

Terry: "Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with Bartholomew "Brawler" Beckett who will be facing newcomer "Lightning" Derrik Arzon this week on PWA Assault. Now Bec- ahem, excuse me, Mister Beckett-"

Beckett: "Much better, Terrance."

Terry: " ... Thank you? Er, anyway, Derrik Arzon was interviewed earlier this week, and although confident, had great praise for you and seems to hold you in pretty high esteem. What do you think of him and this upcoming match?"

Beckett: "I'll be honest, as I always am with you, Terrance, I'm really quite concerned." (serenely sips tea)

Terry: " ... Really?"

Beckett: "Oh, yes, quite." (sets teacup and saucer down on table) "After what was said, I certainly hope that I don't suffer any unforeseen injury, what with the threats made and all."

Terry: "I'm sorry, I'm lost. What threats?'

Beckett: "Oh, come now, Terrance. 'He gets under my skin?' 'We will face each other again?' 'Coward;' obvious libel, that. And my favorite, 'If Beckett wants a piece of me, it'll be good to have another set of eyes.' It's obvious that Snowflake still harbors rather harsh feelings toward having surrendered to me when last we met. So, yes, I am concerned, but not overly so. He may have imported a hired thug from a white van to pad his chances against me, but that is neither here nor there. He will not face me again in the ring, and it is as simple as that. As for Panthrax, or whatever its name is, he needs, for his own sake, to stay out of my way. They may have numbers on me for now, and are obviously planning some sort of ambush, but neither of those masked misfits is up to the task of getting the drop on me. This past week should prove that to one and all."

Terry: "Uh-huh, okay ... so, what about Arzon?"

Beckett: "What?"

Terry: "Arzon?"

Beckett: (calmly stands up) "Arsewand? Mind yourself, Terrance. This is prime-time." (walks out)

Terrance: (looks past the camera) "Seriously? Is this- is he- oh, never mind ..." (gets up, walks out as camera fades out)

[Quillz]

***The scene opens at the doors of the closed-down G.W.S.W. training center. A PWA camera crew enters through the building’s dusty glass double-doors, and makes their way into the dimly lit gymnasium. Akira Wyld can be seen standing alone in the corner of the gym, practicing against a wooden striking dummy. He pummels the dummy with open palmed strikes, chops, and knee-lifts. His shots echo loudly throughout the otherwise empty building. The camera jostles as the crew move in toward Wyld. As they approach, he steadies the wooden man with one taped hand and shoots an annoyed glance at the camera crew.***

REPORTER: “Mr. Wyld... we were hoping we could get a few quick words with you about your upcoming match this week with Richard Pennyworth III. We hear that Mr. Pennyworth has been training very hard for this encounter and...”

***Wyld puts up a palm in the face of the reporter.***

WYLD: “Let me stop you right there. I don’t give a damn about what that Wall Street lightweight is doing to prepare for our match. Whatever it is it won’t be enough. This week at PWA Assault I’m going to make an example of that phony and show the world what a real ring technician looks like.”

REPORTER: “Mr. Wyld, do you think your criticisms of Richard Pennyworth are fair? Since arriving in PWA, he has been very complimentary of your skills. He seems to be approaching his career here honestly, yet you’ve made disparaging remarks about his background.”

WYLD: “Now you listen here you no-talent stuffed shirt... I’m AKIRA WYLD. I’ve been in this business for 16 years and I’ve seen superstars come and go. Mark my words... Richard Pennyworth is just another spoiled rich brat who thinks that his money and his manicure entitle him to a seat at the table. He’s going to learn that there’s only one thing that gets you recognition in MY company. That’s what you can get done between the ropes.”

REPORTER: “Well... in that area at leas you have acknowledged Mr. Pennyworth’s impressive skills.”

WYLD: “Skills... don’t get ahead of yourself Cronkite. I said Pennyworth knew his way around a wrestling ring... but don’t think for one second that he’s in my league. Nobody is. Maybe in another life Dickie Pennyworth could have cut it as a Wyld Family trainee... and sure maybe after spending few years under the learning tree he could have really been something. But there’s no teachers here... no time to work on your skills or develop your craft. This is the big leagues and I’m going to destroy that high dollar loser so badly that he’ll never dare set foot in a PWA ring again.”

REPORTER: “You keep mentioning Mr. Pennyworth’s money... it seems to be a real sore spot with you. Is it possible you’re letting your rivalry with PWA owner Damion Black affect how your approaching your match? And if so... might that be detrimental to properly preparing to fight Mr. Pennyworth?”

***Wyld laughs under his breath and strikes the wooden training dummy with a closed fist.***

WYLD: “I don’t know what’s a bigger insult... you implying that a loser like Damion Black has gotten into my head, or you claiming that I need to ‘prepare’ for someone like Pennyworth. I’m the best damn wrestler in the world. I can walk into any match cold and steal the show on any given night. Pennyworth is the one who needs to prepare for me. But no matter how he trains, it won’t do him any good. Because I’m going to step into the ring at Assault a winner, and I’m going to leave the same way. Because that’s what champions do!”

***Wyld shoves the reporter back into the camera crew, causing the camera to tumble to the ground and cut to static.***

WYLD: “Now get the hell out of my building. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

***Sounds of the camera crew picking up there equipment and shuffling out of the building can be heard as the static on the screen fades to black.***