|
Post by Wade Mason on Jul 14, 2010 18:39:36 GMT -5
[Singles Match] Chris Maddox Vs. Natalie Burrows
Limit: 2 Each Maximum First Deadline: Sunday July 18th at 11:59pm EST Final Deadline: Monday July 19th at 11:59pm EST Kirsten Shelley: Last week, Maddox lost but the TGW committee is looking into how the loss came about. After the show Maddox was attacked by Russell Franchise and beaten down. How will Maddox respond? Also, Natalie Burrows made her debut on TGW Animosity talking to the fans and now looks to pick up a victory in her first match. Who will come out on top?
|
|
|
Post by kris on Jul 14, 2010 23:58:29 GMT -5
Wednesday, July 7, 2010 - 3:29 A.M. E.S.T.
The Southern Belle wasn't doing too badly for herself, all things considered; in the last two months, she had only lost a single match. Confident that the day will come that she will avenge it - and also being certain that she will make an impact in the new company she has joined - it's clear as can be that she isn't letting that lone loss keep her awake at night since she is out like a light. The windows are open in the mint and pink of her bedroom, white frames gleaming softly in the shared illumination of the light she recently installed along her back fence and the moon overhead. Gossamer-thin white curtains flutter and flow with the movements of the wind, the soft whispering of the fabric not near enough to disturb the blond that lays upon her bed. Covered only in a sheet that is a pale mint green in color, Natalie lays upon her side with an arm beneath her pillow, the other gently holding a quilted-together rabbit against her chest. She's curled up a bit to give the massive black shape of her slumbering Newfoundland enough room to lay where the breeze can reach him directly, the ever-watchful canine's eyes open and reflecting the light as he stands guard. Just what dreams are coming to Natalie are a mystery to be certain… and since they are shattered along with the quiet by the phone ringing, she won't be able to remember them later to share them. A soft groan of irritation escapes the Southern Belle as blue eyes lazily blink open, a tanned hand reaching for the receiver. Her voice is slurred slightly from being so rudely awakened when she speaks into it, her tones quiet.
…hello?
Natalie! Issabout time ya picked up th'phone, girl. I've been… tryin' t'get ahol'o ya all night!
The sound of the voice on the other end of the line is more than enough to have Natalie sit bolt-upright, awareness forcibly driven into her very being thanks to the woman that has chosen to reach out to her while in the midst of a drunken haze.
I'm sorry, but I don't think any of your other calls got throu--
Don’t ya.. don't ya lie to me, girl! I know ya've been busyin' yerself with some man or somethin' since yer too busy to drop by and visit!
Natalie doesn't even try to hide the wince that those angry words cause, having to pause a moment to take a deep breath in the name of keeping her composure when she responds.
I was just there three days ago. I brought lemon meringue pie, remember?
For a moment, silence… and then hateful, mocking laughter that only sharpens the edges of the words that come next.
Pff, yeah… an' it tasted like shit! Ya never coul' cook as well as me, girl, an' ya probly never will. Hell, it ain' no wonder that ye're not married by now - you're too fuckin' pathetic t'even get a man to look atcha!
By now, the Southern Belle has learned all too well that pointing out events that do not fit into the supposed script of events only makes the anger worsen… and the insults that whittle her down that little bit further are but a painful reminder. Not all of the scars that the blond bears has a thing to do with an industry that is notorious for being brutally physical. Heck, not all of them mar her flesh… or have healed over at all. Tears freely trail along her cheeks as Natalie struggles to keep her composure, succeeding only in keeping her voice even. For the first time, Samson's growl rumbles, low and threatening, in the dark as if he could intimidate the phone into silence, drive the tormentor away from his owner.
You know that I'm not seeing anyone on account of wanting to focus on my career--
Pff, sure ya are. I know that yer jus' sayin' that t'save face since Lord only knows that it's all ya got goin' for ya. If ya'd open yer legs fer once, maybe… maybe then ya'd be gettin' t'work on fillin' that fancy house of yers with somethin' other'n shitty food!
There's no hiding the pain anymore, no keeping the blood away from the eager nostrils of the shark in the water. The wounds taking their toll is expressed with a crack in her tone,
…w-why…?
B'cause it's yer fault that he's gone, ya worthless little bitch… an' I ain't gonna let you forget it!
Judging by the way Natalie recoils, those words may have well been a knife driven right into the middle of her stomach. A soft, pained whimper escapes her throat as she curls in upon herself, the hateful tirade continuing despite the unspoken plea to stop.
Ya might've moved on and bought yerself a fancy house since mine ain' good enough fer ya, girl, but I haven't - and I ain' ever gonna let ya forget about the man… no, the family ya was never good 'nough for!
No, you don't m-mean that! I know you don't mean tha--
Ya don't know a fuckin' thing, girl! If ya did, ya'd be some poor bastard's wife insteada'… goin' out an' makin' a fool of yerself every week on the TV! I didn' raise ya to waste yourself on somethin' like that - I raised ya t'be a good wife an' mother, an' you can't even get somethin' that simple right! Yer nothin' but a failure, girl, and… and...
For a moment, it seems that the voice on the other end of the line has decided that she's done enough to the blond that is falling apart, piece by piece, beneath this onslaught of words… but unfortunately for the Southern Belle, instead of holstering those hurtful intentions, they are being reloaded with a final, devastating bullet.
Robbie'd be ashamed of you!
Breathing is a struggle, speaking even moreso… but Natalie forces her head above the suffocation of her emotions to choke out a single word, a call for help that only reaches long-deafened ears.
M-Mom--
The merciful click of the call being ended echoes like a gunshot in the silence, leaving only Natalie behind. The receiver falls from fingers that have long since gone slack. It seems that the Southern Belle was only a puppet being held aloft by strings that have been soaked in years of resentment and vitriol, the hateful elixir spiked with whatever Jack or Johnny that was being lifted to her tormenter's lips… for she crumples upon her quilt, her entire body trembling and convulsing with sobs that threaten to shake her apart. Samson whimpers as he tries to comfort his owner the best he can, but he has no arms to hold her, no words to console her. All the more he can do is wag his tail and nudge his nose beneath her arm… although it does no good.
At this point, not much would.
Thursday, July 15, 2010 - 5:17 P.M. E.S.T.
No, there wasn't much that could help her… beyond time, anyway, and even that does an incomplete job of things.
It's easy to see how Natalie has endured the harsh words and insults flung at her by her opponents; she has survived far worse… from someone that meant far more to her than those more mean-spirited members of the business could ever hope to. As she has said before, all the power one has over someone is what they are given and, try as she might, she just can't take it back from the hateful shell of a person that one Angela Burrows has become. The browbeating she took a few days ago isn't enough to break her-- or, at least, that's what she tells herself to keep from falling to pieces all over again in the middle of her backyard-- and so she does her best to keep an appearance of everything being as it should. She isn't being dishonest, really, more just trying to carry the burden placed upon her shoulders much the same as any other hard-working person would. Everyone has their own problems to deal with, after all, and she's gotten off relatively light on that front…
Right?
Sighing softly, the Southern Belle pushes an errant curl out of the way of her eyes before she forces herself to focus on the matter at hand - namely, her debut match against one Chris Maddox. The self-proclaimed King is miles away, both figuratively and literally, from the young woman that turns her eyes to the camera as she stands in the middle of her back yard, dressed simply in a pair of old denim cut-off shorts and a heather gray tank-top that's about as designer as the simple flip-flops on her feet. There's no showboating, no flashing past title reigns or boasting about how many careers she's ended… just the Southern Belle and a glass of iced tea, a few slices of lemon submerged thanks to the presence of plenty of ice cubes. Usually she would find it rude to be partaking of a beverage while the cameras were filming - something about how if anyone watching her cannot partake, then reminding them of that fact would be unspeakably rude - but the humid heat that characterized North Carolina summers made it all but impossible to resist the sweet, siren call. Taking a sip, Natalie allows the glass to move entirely out of the way of her face before she nods in silent greeting, her tone conversationally polite right along with her smile.
I've been told, time and time again, that professional wrestling is a man's world, a testosterone-driven business that is filled with good ol' boys that wash each others' backs in the name of keeping things the way they are. Any woman that tries to make a living for themselves here is either rejected at the door or forced to sell her dignity for far less than it is worth, leaving nothing but hair-flipping and revealing attire behind - and that says nothing about the poor dears that attempt to secure their careers by, ahm… greasing the wheels with what lay between their legs. To go against that grain means working twice as hard as any hungry young man that sets out to make a name for themselves, dedicating themselves wholly to a business that chews up rookies only to spit them right back out at such a rate that it almost makes you wonder just how anyone can survive. Being in this business can change a person, there's no doubt about it - and in my case? It's been for the better. I've never been afraid of rolling up my sleeves and getting my hands dirty, keeping my nose right on that grindstone - and all the more my time in this industry has done is reinforce that drive, that determination to push myself further and further to see just how far I can go. Sure, there are times that the odds seem astronomically stacked against me… but between you and me?
It's nowhere near as impossible as a lot of people wanted me to think.
I'm still here and thriving in this business, after all, stronger than ever despite being told repeatedly that I was too kind, too polite to be more than anything but a blood smear on the canvas. I've survived barbed wire-wrapped ropes and sneak attacks, I've stared monstrous competitors right in the eye before dropping them to the canvas for that ever-important three count… I've even stood at the top of a company's women's division as their best. Even as I went out there week after week and lived the dream, though, I found myself wondering just what I was truly capable of. There are many a talented woman out there, don't get me wrong - Heck, there are a few that I haven't managed to beat yet! - but the world isn't just made up of the fairer sex. I've always been of the mind that everyone deserves the same fair shake in this business no matter what gender or race they are... and wouldn't I be quite the hypocrite if I only contented myself with only sampling a small piece of what this business has to offer? That is what has brought me to TGW; I want to see how I measure up where there is no dividing line, no assumption that one gender will always trump the other without so much as a second thought. I know that I'm in for one Heck of a challenge… but I wouldn't have it any other way. That's the reason why I was thrilled to see that I was given exactly that for my debut - an opponent that'll help me bring the house down.
The blond nods to affirm that point before she continues, her confidence a subtle thing compared to the cockiness that so many of her co-workers oozed out of every pore. It was either a breath of fresh air or an infuriating slap in the face, depending on who you asked.
I know how it feels to have a win unfairly taken from me, Mister Maddox, so I'm not about to hold what happened at last Animosity against you. If anything, it speaks of how much of a threat you are to the rest of the roster - myself included! - that Mister al-Haroon felt that he… well, that he needed that unfair advantage to pin your shoulders to the mat for a three-count. That isn't anything you'll need to worry about when it comes to me, though. Should I come out victorious in our match, it won't be because I knew how to hold onto a rope… it will be because I earned it, and earned it fairly at that. While I know that you may not extend that courtesy to me, that does not mean that I will ever lower myself to that and, even if you try to go that route yourself after the stink you raised when it happened to you, that by no means guarantees your success. You may be bigger and stronger than me - and willing to find any little loophole in the rules you can - but to count me out just on account of that would be a mistake that I highly recommend not making. What I lack in physical size, I more than make up for in heart and determination - and while I'm not about to proclaim myself as the best ever when it comes to skill, I'm also no slouch in that regard. As for using those unsavory techniques that we've both fallen victim to in the past, well… let's say that I have no qualms whatsoever for making you pay for any that you attempt while remaining well in the bounds of the rules myself. I may remember my manners, but no amount of them will make my kicks sting any less. So please, Mister Maddox - do not mistake my manners for weakness. While I have never been one to endanger the career of anyone, one never knows just what can happen out in the squared circle.
Was that… was that a threat from a woman that always brakes for animals and never turns away someone in need of a meal or a place to stay for the night? Not in the least; it is simply a statement of fact, pointing out the obvious even. Injuries are but a part of life for those that choose to wrestle for a living, something that she has experienced firsthand.
You know, that's something a lot of people in this business would be well served to remember - nothing is impossible out in that ring. There is no such thing as a match that cannot be won, an opponent that cannot be beaten... a King that cannot be toppled by someone that is simply herself, no fancy titles or intimidating monikers to be found. I respect what you are capable of, Mister Maddox, but I do not fear it. If anything, it should be you that is nervous about little ol' me. I'm not saying that out of ego or ill-conceived pride, but because I know full well that when I walk down that ramp to get in the ring with you, I'm going to be leaving everything out there… and surely you know what they say about big, explosive things in small packages. If it turns out that you are the better competitor, then I will shake your hand and congratulate you without a moment's hesitation. I wish you luck all the same, though. Who knows?
A glimmer of mischief in those blue eyes and along the edges of her smile makes itself evident as she decides to bring this first address to her opponent to a close, that competitive fire burning bright in her eyes.
In order to beat me, you just might be surprised to find that you'll need it.
A parting nod and everything fades to black, the Southern Belle taking another swig of her iced tea. The heat wasn't getting any better as the sun started to go down… mm, maybe she'll take a quick swim to take the edge off.
|
|
|
Post by ayrexero on Jul 19, 2010 9:11:00 GMT -5
‘When the cat’s away, the mice will play’
Well, It seems like, because that Osama Bin Laden cheated in our match to ‘win’ and that clown Russell attacked me at the end of Animosity last week, everyone is talking down on me like I’ve fallen off. First off, that fucking terrorist, Abdul Shazaam, or whatever his name is, is just a pussy to me. If he really this ‘world’s greatest wrestler’ like he claims he is, then why couldn’t he beat me fair and square in the ring? Why couldn’t he knock my black ass the hell out, or make me tap like a little bitch in the middle of the ring with tears in my eyes like a 12 year old girl at a Justin Bibler concert? The answer is plain, simple, and obvious: he’s not as good as the man that will lead this company into the future, Christopher Maddox.
You see Abdul, you spent all week telling the world that you were going to take the TGW by storm, and to be honest, you did, by beating the most important wrestler on this roster. I know this past week you’ve been calling you mother and father telling them that you’ve finally made it to the big time and ‘slayed the king.’ I bet you’ve been sending postcards to your friends back home with your picture on the front celebrating your ‘win’ against me. And for that I can’t blame you, if I were you I would be doing the same exact thing. But here’s the sad part, for you at least: all good things must come to an end. I know that that this is such a cliché statement, but it is a very true one when it comes to good ole Abdul. Like I have done to others I’m my path, Abdul, I will put an end to you and your career, and you should pray to Allah it’s not your life too. I hope you enjoyed your stay here in the TGW because it will all come to a crashing halt this week at Animosity.
As everyone who watched Animosity saw, the face of TGW, Chris Maddox was brutally attack by the supposed ‘Constant’ of this company, Russell Francis. I know that most people think I should be pissed off that this nobody attacked me, and while I am, I completely understand why this is happening. It’s because he’s jealous of the most talented wrestler on the TGW roster, and he thinks that I came here and overshadowed him and all the ‘hard work’ he’s done to establish himself as the ‘Constant’ of this company. He’s green with envy at the fact that in my three matches in this organization, I have been in the main event all three times, and because of that, the only reason why the arena is packed to capacity every Tuesday night is to watch me beat another jobber into oblivion in my quest to win the TGW Championship. And because of these things, I don’t blame him for posing as a limo driver and smashing it into a wall with me inside, how long did it take you come up with this ever-so-genius plan, Homer Simpson?
But don’t mistake my understanding for forgiveness, Russell; what you have done is open a Pandora’s Box of pain for yourself. While I am on the road to championship gold in both TGW and NWA, there’s nothing that says that I won’t be able to make a side trip to show you who exactly is the big shot on this roster. I like how you keep referring to yourself as the ‘Constant’ of the TGW, Russell, and honestly your are just that: Constant. Since you’ve been employed here, you’ve constantly underachieved. You’ve been constantly appearing in midcard matches, never really making an impact or a move up the ranks. And you’ve constantly been a bore and waste of time to anyone with half a brain cell.
Honestly, right now, ‘the powers that be’ are really dropping the ball. How can they seriously book me in a match with an opponent that is ever worse than the person I faced last week? As if things didn’t start off bad enough facing ‘King’ Hunter in my first match here, I had to face ‘Constant’ of TGW Russell Francis, and finally, the ‘best Indy wrestler in the world’ Abdul Haroon. But the match I have this week takes the cake, when I have to wrestle Natalie Burrows in her debut. I could, for the rest of this promo trash talk her and say that she has no point in a brutal environment like this, or I could ask for her number and tell her I’ll take it easy on her if she lets me take her out on the town, But I won’t travel down either one of those roads because Chris Maddox is more clever than that.
I’m not oblivious to dominant women not just in wrestling, but in all walks of life. Cleopatra, Susan B. Anthony, Marie Antoinette, and the list goes on and on. And I know that for years that women have been fighting for equality and despite all of the demonstrations, protests and boycotts, they still aren’t viewed equally as men. But rest assured, Ms. Burrows, I’m not on the same bandwagon as those are against equality amongst the sexes, in fact I’m a strong proponent for this and because of this, and Tuesday Night Animosity will be your lucky day. Because for one night only, you will be view equally as a man. When you walk into the ring and face the king one-on-one, you won’t be eye candy. You won’t be a ‘nice set tits, guns or knockers’; nor will you be a ‘nice piece of ass’ , all you will be is a small hurdle on in the way to my what is rightfully mine. When that ring bell sounds, I won’t a hot blond with a nice body and flowing, beautiful hair and big blue eyes, instead I’ll envision you as another one of these clowns on this roster.
But, Natalie, rest assured, because unlike the previous three men I have faced here, I have nothing against you. You haven’t spouted off about shit you don’t have a clue about, nor act like you are God’s gift to professional wrestling when you’re nothing more than a career mid carder. And because of this, our match will be quick and painless for you. Unlike these morons I’ve faced earlier, you actually have a bright future here, as long as you stay out of my way. After this encounter, if you stick to only the Volitionary championship and the midcard where you belong, you’ll have a long and prosperous time here. You’ll be the warm-up act to the most important wrestler on the planet, Chris Maddox, and that is the best thing anyone could wish for, aside from actually being The King.
|
|