Post by Steven Brody, CEO on Aug 29, 2020 10:55:05 GMT -8
The camera opens on the outside of the NFW Collision center. A temporary stage has been erected in front of an audience of reporters and fans that have come to attend the press conference for the third annual Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament. Seated at tables in front on either side, to the back of the stage are the twenty men and women. Two tables on each side, behind one another; five individuals to each table. The Collision participants on the audience’s left, Trauma’s participants on their right. Behind the stage is the main entrance to the Collision Center where the doors open as NFW Commissioner and Owner, Steven Brody walks out and approaches the stage. He is accompanied, respectively, by Collision and Trauma brand General Managers, Luthor Callaway and Isabella Santiago. Standing at the podium as they approach is NFW’s social media representative, Jessica Clarkson.
Jessica Clarkson
Jessica Clarkson: Ladies and gentlemen of the press and NFW fans, please welcome the Commissioner of New Frontier Wrestling, Steven Brody.
The audience applauds as the Commissioner moves up the center aisle, between the two sets of tables. The respective General Managers each take a seat at the inner ends of the front tables with the brands they manage. Jessica Clarkson elegantly steps aside as she joins the audience in their applause as Steven Brody steps up to the podium.
Steven Brody: Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to welcome all of you to the press conference for the third, annual Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament. In just three days, we will begin this year’s month long tournament to honor the man that pioneered for this company to grow into the product that it has become today. A man that many said embodied the very essence of what professional wrestling truly stands for: Passion. Heart. Honor. Pride. Sportsmanship. Vlad Blackheart was a decorated champion throughout his career in New Frontier Wrestling. Most notably of all, he was a multi-time NFW World Champion, a title earned by the very best this promotion has to offer. Now, we honor the memory of the late Vlad Blackheart with this annual tournament. Twenty men and women, combined from each brand’s roster will come together in just three days to compete in a round robin tournament for the chance to compete in the main event at NFW’s year end event, Wrestle War. Today, ladies and gentlemen, we hear from each member of the rosters competing in this year’s event. Without further adieu, I open up the floor to the competitors of this years’ Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament.
The fans cheer and applaud then as Steven Brody, also clapping, steps off to the side so that the individuals may step up to the podium. Before each speaker steps up, they are properly introduced by Jessica Clarkson.
But there is a definite uneasiness surrounding the young Creole as he steps up to the podium at the conference, tables on either side laden with fellow roster members and front office employees, digital tape recorders activated and camera bulbs flashing all around in front of him. Is it the pressure of the moment? Is it what might await him not only in the tournament but against the aforementioned Descarrilado in the near future? Something not even concerning wrestling? None could say. His body language reeks of uncertainty, yet his eyes are steely and cold… a dichotomy of expression. He comes up to the microphone and, upon clearing his throat, gives the crowd a moment to quiet before speaking.
And, oh, how it begins...
Damon Cross: ”I’ve been in the back as the other participants in this tournament have been saying their pieces. But I haven’t been listening. Because, honestly, nothing that they say is going to strike a chord with me. For all I know, they’ve explained why 42 is the answer to life, the universe and everything. Hell, each and every one of you may now be privy to the Colonel’s twelve original herbs and spices…”
He pauses for a moment, offering a wry smile as well as drawing some mirth from the audience. Some of the others at the tables nearby look perturbed, others likewise amused. But Damon’s own smile isn’t wont to linger.
Damon Cross: ”...that’s how little attention I’ve been paying. That’s how little the prattle means to me. Now, before you all get prematurely defensive, I’m going to say this straight and clear: what I’m going to say over the next, oh, ten minutes? It’s going to piss you off. Some of you might not be my fans anymore after tonight. What support I’ve gotten since arriving in NFW… I might be pissing it all way. But I am an honest man, sometimes to a fault, and I’m not going to mitigate that to try and win some hearts and minds. Maybe some of you will appreciate the realness I’m offering. Maybe not. Either way… I will not compromise myself for fleeting cheers.”
Now there’s definitely a murmur amongst the reporters and guests. Damon, sipping from a glass of water, takes a moment beyond to suck in another slow breath. And then… a bomb.
Damon Cross: ”The only thing this tournament means to me is that I have another avenue to advance my career. The name, life and career of Vlad Blackheart mean nothing to me.”
Yep, definitely a harsh response to Cross’s words. Especially from at the tables. But he presses on, clearly having been prepared for the visceral response.
Damon Cross: ”Before I tossed my name in the hat for this, I didn’t even know he existed. Obviously he meant something to some people because he has a whole tournament named after him. This might not even be the first installment; I have no idea. The point is, I don’t know him from Adam and I’m not going to drip honey all over his memory and pretend that it all means something to me other than a means of furthering my career.
And those of you offering up hate right now, I don’t blame you. You’re some of those who probably knew and revered him. And good on you for it. Somewhere in the beyond I am certain the man is wearing a smile or some other visual form of satisfaction knowing that he isn’t forgotten. But before you curse my name, let me ask you this: if someone you loved died and some stranger showed up at the funeral with flowers and a guitar, sitting next to the coffin and singing praises while in the same breath asking for alms, claiming it is in the deceased name… how would you react?”
Such a question brings some pause to the assemblage. Damon observes, then continues.
Damon Cross: ”You’d snatch him up, body surf him over the pews and toss him out on his ass before running him over with the hearse. And you know what? That’s what he would deserve. That’s a man I don’t want to be. That’s a man I refuse to be. Honoring the fallen is a wonderful thing, but honor should come from those who know the departed and how to properly express their thoughts and feelings about them. It shouldn’t be a crutch for support. It shouldn’t come off as thinly-veiled gladhanding with underlying agendas.
And when my time comes, I hope like hell that I’ve earned some reverence among those who knew and fought me. That seems like a distant dream, but I can do just that: dream.”
Another wan smile; people are not quite as hot now, but some are definitely stewing.
Damon Cross: ”I’m even willing to wager that some of those who sing his praises are only doing so to make themselves look good to you all. Why? Because that’s wrestling these days. It only matters to some that they get ahead. The whys, wherefores and hows? They don’t matter one whit to some. That sort of makes me an exception, I guess, even if my delivery is questionable.”
A sip of water taken, a few moments to let people soak up his message. Damon seems to feel a little better now, though his eyes are still hard.
Damon Cross: ”But the point that I’ve been laboriously edging toward like an arthritic tortoise?”
He looks around briefly.
Damon Cross: ”The point… is that win or lose in this tournament or in any other NFW even in the future, I refuse to be something I’m not. People up to this point, like Jansen Myrrh, Tren Descarrilado and others, they think they have me pegged. They think they get me because I’ve parted the curtains a bit on my sordid past. I’d wager that there’s some other competitors out here who feel the same for whatever reason. And hey, feel what you want to feel. This is still, for now, a free country. But I’ll make you a promise right in front of these people, God and those watching at home:
It won’t be the smiling soul with the most tear-jerking memories about Vlad that comes out on top in this. And it won’t be someone who was all that close to him, claiming that they’re doing it for his memory. No, it will be someone who is treating this event for what it is: another reason to tear through every adversary and obstacle that NFW can produce to prove their skill and assert their dominance. It’ll be someone with their brain at the forefront, not their heart. Someone for whom fear is a weapon, not an anchor. Someone who isn’t afraid to be exactly who they were born to be, not caring who it angers or who comes after them as a result.
It will be a master of this craft known as wrestling. A fighter. A warrior. A future World Heavyweight Champion. A crusader. A man like yours truly, the Black Ronin… Damon Cross.”
It seems that he has gotten through a bit to some who minutes ago were calling for his proverbial head. Not everyone is on board, but there’s some nods and applause… even a few surprised yet accepting looks from the table.
Damon Cross: ”This is how it will go, ladies and gentlemen: I will fight like no one else in order to see my way to the finals and have my arm raised in the end. If you face me, you’ll have to fight for your life to beat me. If you beat me, you’ll never see the finals for how much of your hide I’ll still have a grip on after my final bell. There won’t be enough left of you to survive what the others before you stand prepared to give. That isn’t a threat… but a promise.
Count on that, ladies and gentlemen. You either get beat by me, or you lose so much in surviving me that you don’t have the breath left in you to reach the finish line. THAT, friends, is how you honor a fallen warrior. It means more than any pretty memories, screen-printed apparel or faux flowers on a polished gravestone. Vlad Blackheart, in my minor opinion, was a warrior. You want to honor him so badly? You do it by going to war. But don’t be surprised when the man who knew him not in the slightest and had the least flattering things to say does a better job of lifting his memory than you ever could.”
A few minor cheers go up, along with a few catcalls. Damon pays neither side any heed. He leans in a little more, lowering his voice, making sure the microphone catches every curt syllable.
Damon Cross: ”My Rise continues, First in the name of Blackheart, then against that monstrous jackass Tren Descarrilado. By the time the final bell rings, be it from you people on your podcasts, the dirt sheets littering the internet or the ring announcer as they hand over the trophy… every one of you WILL say my name!”
Another mixed, yet potent, reaction as Damon steps back and soaks in the cacophonic reaction to his firm message. Turning on his heel, Ra’s “Fallen Angels” playing him off the podium, he returns through the curtains to the back, leaving many a pondering reporter and viewer, most itching now to get in front of a keyboard and offer their thoughts on the stirring message.
Minoru Tanahashi: Hello Vlad Blackheart Memorial tournament press conference. Whooo, that’s almost as much of a mouthful as I am.
That gets him a few laughs, a few eye rolls, and a few glares.
Minoru Tanahashi: Okay, now that fun is out of the way, and the tension is broke a bit, let’s get to the real stuff. Believe me, I know how important this tournament is. Even if we were not honoring Vlad Blackheart, this would be a big deal. In regards to Mister Blackheart, I did not know the man personally, but everything I have heard of him, and seen of his previous work, I can understand why he is being honored. That is why I brought this drink out to raise in his honor.
Minoru raises his drink as do a large number of fans with whatever they might be drinking.
Minoru Tanahashi: I know a big part of today is to answer the questions of the press, but I want to talk a little bit before that. Don’t worry, I’m not going to sit here and down everyone else in the tournament or in my block. Yes I could stand up here all day and talk about all nineteen other people in this thing and it would be absolutely riveting, but no. I’m not going to talk on strengths and weaknesses and strategy and all of that. My strategy is simple, Win ten straight matches. All nine in my block, and the final. It’s the only way to be absolutely certain you will win. I don’t want to have to hope that on the final day of B block action, Debby Haze gets a win over Sela or Emevlas Stastias can take Morgan Payne to a draw so I can advance to the final.
Minoru looks at the other B block competitors, takes a sip of his drink, sits it down and removes his sunglasses.
Minoru Tanahashi: When I look at the other people in B block, I see nine people that I can beat, and nine people that can beat me. There are multiple champions and contenders in this block, just like there are in A block, and everyone no doubt wants to run the table on this thing. I know what the analysts and the pundits are saying, and they damn sure ain’t talking about me as a favorite. It’s okay though, I’m used to it. Not the first time I’ve been written off before a tournament has started, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I arrived here, had a damn good match against A block competitor Ronnie North, then nothing, then the incident, then a tag loss and then I was gone for a bit. I returned, beat one of my B block compatriots Cass Baumer in an amazing match, had another amazing match that I won, had another amazing match, but came up short and missed out on a big title match. After that every time I stepped in that ring, I kept having damn good matches. Yet there are still people who bring up that pay off or act like I’m just some flashy joke.
Minoru takes a more aggressive sip of his drink and looks out at the reporters, then back at all nineteen of the other competitors before turning back to the mic and the crowd.
Minoru Tanahashi: I will admit that I am a man that likes to have fun, I like to turn heads and get attention on me. I dress flashy, I drink heavy, and I’ve had more one night stands than I do bones. I am one other very important thing though, and that… is a damn good professional wrestler. All of that other stuff is outside the ring, before and after the bell. Inside of those ropes, from bell to bell, I am one of the best you will see. I am strong, I am agile, I have great technical ability and I have experience. I have wrestled all over this planet and picked up things from every style imaginable. People say the phrase, Jack of all trades, and assholes always add on, but master of none. They toss that out to try and make themselves feel better. If you want to choose to master one particular style, more power to you, but I like knowing a bit of everything. It puts me on a near even footing with everyone, because not only do I know how to do some things from their style, I know how to do thirty things that they have never seen. That is just one kind of experience I bring to this tournament.
Minoru looks down at the reporters who appear to be getting a bit antsy. He takes another sip of his drink, smirks, points at one of them, then starts moving his finger, bringing it to his chin and extended his others to stroke his beard.
Minoru Tanahashi: This is not my first, second, or even seventeenth tournament. Japan, Europe, Mexico, they love themselves some tournaments and I always found my way into them. Some I did bad in, some I did really well, some of them I won, but in all of them I learned and grew and that is only going to help me going into this tournament.
He took another sip of his drink, looked at the reporters and gave a chuckle.
Minoru Tanahashi: Okay, I can tell all of you are just begging to ask me a question, so the guy I teased earlier, you go first.
He points to the same man he pointed at earlier.. He appears in his later years, dressed very simply and professionally as he stands.
Reporter 1: You say you want us to take you seriously, but you didn’t even wear a shirt and you brought a beer with you. Why would we take someone like you seriously?
Minoru Tanahashi: Few things, it’s very very hot, that’s why I didn’t wear a shirt, second, this a strong zero, not a beer, third, I literally just explained that this is outside the ring. If you would like, when this is over we can step inside, go to the ring and I can show you exactly why you should take me seriously?
Minoru takes a large aggressive gulp, finishing off the can. He crushes the can in his hand, then tosses it into the nearby bin, managing to land it in recycle instead of trash. He pulls a second one from his other pocket and smiles as he cracks it open and points to a young woman a few seats over, She stands, mid twenties, bright pink dress, and a smile.
Reporter 2: Hi there, love the jacket, great color. My question is pretty simple. You say you want to win all your block matches, but even you admit that it’s unlikely. So, who in B block do you think is going to be the toughest challenge?
Minoru Tanahashi: Wooo, if that’s an easy question, I would hate to have you ask me a hard one. It might seem easy, but it’s loaded as hell. Cass is no doubt eager to get that loss back. Sela, Maki, and Anton are all scary violent competitors. Morgan is tough as hell. Say what you will about Angel Kash’s tactics, she’s always a threat. Remi Fontaine was the surprise entrant with a big introduction. Emevlas and Debby I know are just as hungry as I am to prove themselves. So… I will just say Anton Crowley because I’m pretty sure he is an actual Oni and I don’t need a demon mad at me, okay. Next damn question.
Minoru looks over at Crowley, then quickly back to the reporters, shuddering slightly before he takes a sip of his drink. A man in his mid thirties stands, sharply dressed, very professional and eager.
Reporter 3: So let’s say that you do win your block, either by running the table or just the most points. Who do you want to win Block A and face in the finals?
Minoru Tanahashi: That’s a good question. Definitely a lot of interesting potential match ups in the final. The answer is pretty simple though. I want my friend Super Tiger to win A Block. I will be rooting for her the whole way.
Reporter 3: Is that because you’re secretly in love with her?
Minoru had taken a sip of his drink right as the question was asked and he did an actual spit take, along with a bit of coughing and sputtering. He looked down at the reporter, then just started laughing. He looked at Tiger, kept laughing and pointed as he mouthed the words “this fucking guy.”
Minoru Tanahashi: You’re not serious, are you? I am not in love with Tiggy at all. She reminds me of my baby sister. I like Risa of course, we’re friends, but there is zero romantic feelings. Besides, her girlfriend would totally kick my ass.
Minoru shakes his head, takes another sip of his drink, then picks another reporter.
Minoru Tanahashi: Okay, this is going to be the last question after the stupidity of the one before..
Reporter 4: Why take part in this tournament? You yourself said that you didn’t know Vlad Blackheart at all.
Minoru Tanahashi: Well there’s numerous reasons. The simplest one, you win and you have a title match at the year end pay per view. Some people may have deeper reasons, but I guarantee that everyone else, that is part of why they’re here. My other main reason? I still need to prove myself here in NFW. It feels like no matter what I do, I’m still on the outside looking in, like the NFW faithful just aren’t quite sure about me. Then, while I didn’t know Vlad Blackheart, I have heard good things. Now maybe he would have hated my style, maybe he would have dug it, maybe he would have been indifferent, but I definitely feel like the core was the same for him as it is for me. The love of this business, the thrill of competing in that ring, the glory of earning that title. Key word there, earning. I win this tournament, I win the title, I am no longer a new guy or an outsider. I win and I am the man on the brand. This tournament is my best way to prove I deserve that, my best chance to earn that.
Minoru looks right out at the reporters, then up, completely past them at the fans, may of whom are cheering him on. He nods, takes his drink, raises it high and goes back to his seat, vacating the podium for whoever is supposed to go next.
Graham Baker: Firstly, I’d like to thank NFW for extending to me the opportunity to compete in the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament this go around. I’d like to thank NFW for setting up this environment, this tournament and what it memorializes, and I’d like to take an opportunity to wish the rest of the field good luck in the gruelling matches we, as a collective, are going to partake in over the next few months.
Baker runs a hand through his hair.
Graham Baker: As of this moment, I don’t consider myself to be one of the more prominent members of this roster. Going offline with a knee injury a few weeks after your debut will do that to you, apparently. I also come into this tournament with fewer accolades than I’ve held since the early portion of this year, entrusting my reputation largely to matches I’ve had in the past. I refuse to chase the before-times, I refuse to allow myself to be established on my history alone. NFW has yet to see The Guillotine in full swing, but I promise you, this tournament will be my coming out party. This tournament will be the first, and truest expression of my talent here in NFW.
Baker pauses for a moment, before continuing.
Graham Baker: I can also discern, for the moment, that I’m not the most popular member of this roster. Various individuals both on my side of this tournament as well as the opposing block do have issues with the way I carry myself, the way I perform. These people would claim that I’ve changed, that Graham Baker was never so cruel. The truth couldn’t be farther from it. I’ve always done what was necessary to establish myself at the top of my game, at the top of this industry, and now? Now is no different. I may not be the most professional at points, but what I do deliver are results. I have never once let a company I’ve made a promise to down, and now I make a promise here-I will run through the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament like a house on fire, and I will go to the finals, and for both Vlad and Trauma, I will take this trophy home.
Baker cracks half a smile, before continuing.
Graham Baker: When I look at the field assembled before me, I can see a field of competitors who I’m largely unfamiliar with, but wanting more of. In fact, the only competitor in this field who I’ve locked up with before is Super Tiger, Risa Saito Jackson, but the less said about that the better. I see dream matches, and I see opportunities to cut my teeth against some of the best that NFW has to offer. Griffin Hawkins, Jansen Myrrh, Damon Cross, all ready to run straight into the deadlock. Others, who have something to prove both to the NFW audience at large and to me-Layla Diaz, Lluvia Cane, Ronnie North, Runa Olsen and Jenn Drew-these are names who’ve maybe seen more ring time inside NFW than I have, but I assure you, they’ve never quite met a challenge like me before. The Chopping Block is cleaned and ready, and I’m prepared to level anyone who’s not ready to stack up.
Baker glances dead on at the camera, and speaks with a bit of a newfound intensity, though still keeping his composure.
Graham Baker: Because when I came to NFW, I promised that regardless of where I stood elsewhere, I was going to establish myself as a chopping block. I was going to cut the heads off of every competitor that stood in my way. I was going to do exactly what I needed to do, whenever I needed to do it to get what I wanted to get done. Some of you are surprised by this, when I make threats and claims to go for what I want to go for, saying that Graham Baker’s changed. Graham Baker hasn’t changed, you’ve just found yourself in the blade’s sights, and as much as you love watching and observing from the outside as other warriors are shown no mercy, you don’t have the same enthusiasm when you find yourself in the same merciless path, a casualty on the walk of destruction. I get it, I really do-but double standards will be the death of you all.
Baker chuckles.
Graham Baker: I’m not nice. I never have been. If you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that, it’s deeply unfortunate to hear and I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you. The truth of the matter is, I’ve always been one brutal man, and I intend to keep that reputation. It’s gotten me this far, at least, and that’s what’ll get me through the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament, as I put each and every one of you in my block six feet in the dirt. It’s not malicious, it’s not a bad call, it’s just competition.
Baker smiles as he looks at the camera.
Graham Baker: Vlad Blackheart, I’d imagine, loved the competition of this sport. He loved the back and forth and the trading of blows. I didn’t know him, but I can only imagine as any other competitor did, he enjoyed the truths of combat and the fury between men and women trading such violent blows. I plan on doing my best to honor his memory, and the memory of any warrior who’s passed away with an impact upon this sport like he had. At the end of the day, I’ll stand tall with a trophy in one hand, and a title shot in my back pocket, having honored the truest level of competition to the best of my ability.
Jessica Clarkson
The audience applauds as the Commissioner moves up the center aisle, between the two sets of tables. The respective General Managers each take a seat at the inner ends of the front tables with the brands they manage. Jessica Clarkson elegantly steps aside as she joins the audience in their applause as Steven Brody steps up to the podium.
Luthor Callaway Steven Brody Isabella Santiago
The fans cheer and applaud then as Steven Brody, also clapping, steps off to the side so that the individuals may step up to the podium. Before each speaker steps up, they are properly introduced by Jessica Clarkson.
Damon Cross
There’s a fairly positive reaction to Damon Cross’s appearance at the Vlad Blackheart Tournament press conference. And why not? In his relatively short time in NFW, he has captured the imaginations of some of the fans, both new and old. His war with Jansen Myrrh treated the NFW faithful to a hellacious street fight and his goings-on with Tren Descarrilado have proven that young Cross is not given to fear and unwilling to back down even in the face of dire threats and overwhelming power and wrath.But there is a definite uneasiness surrounding the young Creole as he steps up to the podium at the conference, tables on either side laden with fellow roster members and front office employees, digital tape recorders activated and camera bulbs flashing all around in front of him. Is it the pressure of the moment? Is it what might await him not only in the tournament but against the aforementioned Descarrilado in the near future? Something not even concerning wrestling? None could say. His body language reeks of uncertainty, yet his eyes are steely and cold… a dichotomy of expression. He comes up to the microphone and, upon clearing his throat, gives the crowd a moment to quiet before speaking.
And, oh, how it begins...
Damon Cross: ”I’ve been in the back as the other participants in this tournament have been saying their pieces. But I haven’t been listening. Because, honestly, nothing that they say is going to strike a chord with me. For all I know, they’ve explained why 42 is the answer to life, the universe and everything. Hell, each and every one of you may now be privy to the Colonel’s twelve original herbs and spices…”
He pauses for a moment, offering a wry smile as well as drawing some mirth from the audience. Some of the others at the tables nearby look perturbed, others likewise amused. But Damon’s own smile isn’t wont to linger.
Damon Cross: ”...that’s how little attention I’ve been paying. That’s how little the prattle means to me. Now, before you all get prematurely defensive, I’m going to say this straight and clear: what I’m going to say over the next, oh, ten minutes? It’s going to piss you off. Some of you might not be my fans anymore after tonight. What support I’ve gotten since arriving in NFW… I might be pissing it all way. But I am an honest man, sometimes to a fault, and I’m not going to mitigate that to try and win some hearts and minds. Maybe some of you will appreciate the realness I’m offering. Maybe not. Either way… I will not compromise myself for fleeting cheers.”
Now there’s definitely a murmur amongst the reporters and guests. Damon, sipping from a glass of water, takes a moment beyond to suck in another slow breath. And then… a bomb.
Damon Cross: ”The only thing this tournament means to me is that I have another avenue to advance my career. The name, life and career of Vlad Blackheart mean nothing to me.”
Yep, definitely a harsh response to Cross’s words. Especially from at the tables. But he presses on, clearly having been prepared for the visceral response.
Damon Cross: ”Before I tossed my name in the hat for this, I didn’t even know he existed. Obviously he meant something to some people because he has a whole tournament named after him. This might not even be the first installment; I have no idea. The point is, I don’t know him from Adam and I’m not going to drip honey all over his memory and pretend that it all means something to me other than a means of furthering my career.
And those of you offering up hate right now, I don’t blame you. You’re some of those who probably knew and revered him. And good on you for it. Somewhere in the beyond I am certain the man is wearing a smile or some other visual form of satisfaction knowing that he isn’t forgotten. But before you curse my name, let me ask you this: if someone you loved died and some stranger showed up at the funeral with flowers and a guitar, sitting next to the coffin and singing praises while in the same breath asking for alms, claiming it is in the deceased name… how would you react?”
Such a question brings some pause to the assemblage. Damon observes, then continues.
Damon Cross: ”You’d snatch him up, body surf him over the pews and toss him out on his ass before running him over with the hearse. And you know what? That’s what he would deserve. That’s a man I don’t want to be. That’s a man I refuse to be. Honoring the fallen is a wonderful thing, but honor should come from those who know the departed and how to properly express their thoughts and feelings about them. It shouldn’t be a crutch for support. It shouldn’t come off as thinly-veiled gladhanding with underlying agendas.
And when my time comes, I hope like hell that I’ve earned some reverence among those who knew and fought me. That seems like a distant dream, but I can do just that: dream.”
Another wan smile; people are not quite as hot now, but some are definitely stewing.
Damon Cross: ”I’m even willing to wager that some of those who sing his praises are only doing so to make themselves look good to you all. Why? Because that’s wrestling these days. It only matters to some that they get ahead. The whys, wherefores and hows? They don’t matter one whit to some. That sort of makes me an exception, I guess, even if my delivery is questionable.”
A sip of water taken, a few moments to let people soak up his message. Damon seems to feel a little better now, though his eyes are still hard.
Damon Cross: ”But the point that I’ve been laboriously edging toward like an arthritic tortoise?”
He looks around briefly.
Damon Cross: ”The point… is that win or lose in this tournament or in any other NFW even in the future, I refuse to be something I’m not. People up to this point, like Jansen Myrrh, Tren Descarrilado and others, they think they have me pegged. They think they get me because I’ve parted the curtains a bit on my sordid past. I’d wager that there’s some other competitors out here who feel the same for whatever reason. And hey, feel what you want to feel. This is still, for now, a free country. But I’ll make you a promise right in front of these people, God and those watching at home:
It won’t be the smiling soul with the most tear-jerking memories about Vlad that comes out on top in this. And it won’t be someone who was all that close to him, claiming that they’re doing it for his memory. No, it will be someone who is treating this event for what it is: another reason to tear through every adversary and obstacle that NFW can produce to prove their skill and assert their dominance. It’ll be someone with their brain at the forefront, not their heart. Someone for whom fear is a weapon, not an anchor. Someone who isn’t afraid to be exactly who they were born to be, not caring who it angers or who comes after them as a result.
It will be a master of this craft known as wrestling. A fighter. A warrior. A future World Heavyweight Champion. A crusader. A man like yours truly, the Black Ronin… Damon Cross.”
It seems that he has gotten through a bit to some who minutes ago were calling for his proverbial head. Not everyone is on board, but there’s some nods and applause… even a few surprised yet accepting looks from the table.
Damon Cross: ”This is how it will go, ladies and gentlemen: I will fight like no one else in order to see my way to the finals and have my arm raised in the end. If you face me, you’ll have to fight for your life to beat me. If you beat me, you’ll never see the finals for how much of your hide I’ll still have a grip on after my final bell. There won’t be enough left of you to survive what the others before you stand prepared to give. That isn’t a threat… but a promise.
Count on that, ladies and gentlemen. You either get beat by me, or you lose so much in surviving me that you don’t have the breath left in you to reach the finish line. THAT, friends, is how you honor a fallen warrior. It means more than any pretty memories, screen-printed apparel or faux flowers on a polished gravestone. Vlad Blackheart, in my minor opinion, was a warrior. You want to honor him so badly? You do it by going to war. But don’t be surprised when the man who knew him not in the slightest and had the least flattering things to say does a better job of lifting his memory than you ever could.”
A few minor cheers go up, along with a few catcalls. Damon pays neither side any heed. He leans in a little more, lowering his voice, making sure the microphone catches every curt syllable.
Damon Cross: ”My Rise continues, First in the name of Blackheart, then against that monstrous jackass Tren Descarrilado. By the time the final bell rings, be it from you people on your podcasts, the dirt sheets littering the internet or the ring announcer as they hand over the trophy… every one of you WILL say my name!”
Another mixed, yet potent, reaction as Damon steps back and soaks in the cacophonic reaction to his firm message. Turning on his heel, Ra’s “Fallen Angels” playing him off the podium, he returns through the curtains to the back, leaving many a pondering reporter and viewer, most itching now to get in front of a keyboard and offer their thoughts on the stirring message.
Minoru Tanahashi
Minoru Tanahashi doesn’t even wait for Damon Cross to sit down before he gets out of his seat and starts sauntering towards the podium, ignoring any kind of order and decorum, which isn’t surprising from a man in light khaki trousers, brown suede sandals, a bright pink sports coat with no shirt underneath, and gold rimmed sunglasses with pink lenses. He heads straight up to the podium with a smile as he looks out at all the reporters and the fans in attendance. He looks out, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Strong Zero double peach and cracks it open.Minoru Tanahashi: Hello Vlad Blackheart Memorial tournament press conference. Whooo, that’s almost as much of a mouthful as I am.
That gets him a few laughs, a few eye rolls, and a few glares.
Minoru Tanahashi: Okay, now that fun is out of the way, and the tension is broke a bit, let’s get to the real stuff. Believe me, I know how important this tournament is. Even if we were not honoring Vlad Blackheart, this would be a big deal. In regards to Mister Blackheart, I did not know the man personally, but everything I have heard of him, and seen of his previous work, I can understand why he is being honored. That is why I brought this drink out to raise in his honor.
Minoru raises his drink as do a large number of fans with whatever they might be drinking.
Minoru Tanahashi: I know a big part of today is to answer the questions of the press, but I want to talk a little bit before that. Don’t worry, I’m not going to sit here and down everyone else in the tournament or in my block. Yes I could stand up here all day and talk about all nineteen other people in this thing and it would be absolutely riveting, but no. I’m not going to talk on strengths and weaknesses and strategy and all of that. My strategy is simple, Win ten straight matches. All nine in my block, and the final. It’s the only way to be absolutely certain you will win. I don’t want to have to hope that on the final day of B block action, Debby Haze gets a win over Sela or Emevlas Stastias can take Morgan Payne to a draw so I can advance to the final.
Minoru looks at the other B block competitors, takes a sip of his drink, sits it down and removes his sunglasses.
Minoru Tanahashi: When I look at the other people in B block, I see nine people that I can beat, and nine people that can beat me. There are multiple champions and contenders in this block, just like there are in A block, and everyone no doubt wants to run the table on this thing. I know what the analysts and the pundits are saying, and they damn sure ain’t talking about me as a favorite. It’s okay though, I’m used to it. Not the first time I’ve been written off before a tournament has started, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I arrived here, had a damn good match against A block competitor Ronnie North, then nothing, then the incident, then a tag loss and then I was gone for a bit. I returned, beat one of my B block compatriots Cass Baumer in an amazing match, had another amazing match that I won, had another amazing match, but came up short and missed out on a big title match. After that every time I stepped in that ring, I kept having damn good matches. Yet there are still people who bring up that pay off or act like I’m just some flashy joke.
Minoru takes a more aggressive sip of his drink and looks out at the reporters, then back at all nineteen of the other competitors before turning back to the mic and the crowd.
Minoru Tanahashi: I will admit that I am a man that likes to have fun, I like to turn heads and get attention on me. I dress flashy, I drink heavy, and I’ve had more one night stands than I do bones. I am one other very important thing though, and that… is a damn good professional wrestler. All of that other stuff is outside the ring, before and after the bell. Inside of those ropes, from bell to bell, I am one of the best you will see. I am strong, I am agile, I have great technical ability and I have experience. I have wrestled all over this planet and picked up things from every style imaginable. People say the phrase, Jack of all trades, and assholes always add on, but master of none. They toss that out to try and make themselves feel better. If you want to choose to master one particular style, more power to you, but I like knowing a bit of everything. It puts me on a near even footing with everyone, because not only do I know how to do some things from their style, I know how to do thirty things that they have never seen. That is just one kind of experience I bring to this tournament.
Minoru looks down at the reporters who appear to be getting a bit antsy. He takes another sip of his drink, smirks, points at one of them, then starts moving his finger, bringing it to his chin and extended his others to stroke his beard.
Minoru Tanahashi: This is not my first, second, or even seventeenth tournament. Japan, Europe, Mexico, they love themselves some tournaments and I always found my way into them. Some I did bad in, some I did really well, some of them I won, but in all of them I learned and grew and that is only going to help me going into this tournament.
He took another sip of his drink, looked at the reporters and gave a chuckle.
Minoru Tanahashi: Okay, I can tell all of you are just begging to ask me a question, so the guy I teased earlier, you go first.
He points to the same man he pointed at earlier.. He appears in his later years, dressed very simply and professionally as he stands.
Reporter 1: You say you want us to take you seriously, but you didn’t even wear a shirt and you brought a beer with you. Why would we take someone like you seriously?
Minoru Tanahashi: Few things, it’s very very hot, that’s why I didn’t wear a shirt, second, this a strong zero, not a beer, third, I literally just explained that this is outside the ring. If you would like, when this is over we can step inside, go to the ring and I can show you exactly why you should take me seriously?
Minoru takes a large aggressive gulp, finishing off the can. He crushes the can in his hand, then tosses it into the nearby bin, managing to land it in recycle instead of trash. He pulls a second one from his other pocket and smiles as he cracks it open and points to a young woman a few seats over, She stands, mid twenties, bright pink dress, and a smile.
Reporter 2: Hi there, love the jacket, great color. My question is pretty simple. You say you want to win all your block matches, but even you admit that it’s unlikely. So, who in B block do you think is going to be the toughest challenge?
Minoru Tanahashi: Wooo, if that’s an easy question, I would hate to have you ask me a hard one. It might seem easy, but it’s loaded as hell. Cass is no doubt eager to get that loss back. Sela, Maki, and Anton are all scary violent competitors. Morgan is tough as hell. Say what you will about Angel Kash’s tactics, she’s always a threat. Remi Fontaine was the surprise entrant with a big introduction. Emevlas and Debby I know are just as hungry as I am to prove themselves. So… I will just say Anton Crowley because I’m pretty sure he is an actual Oni and I don’t need a demon mad at me, okay. Next damn question.
Minoru looks over at Crowley, then quickly back to the reporters, shuddering slightly before he takes a sip of his drink. A man in his mid thirties stands, sharply dressed, very professional and eager.
Reporter 3: So let’s say that you do win your block, either by running the table or just the most points. Who do you want to win Block A and face in the finals?
Minoru Tanahashi: That’s a good question. Definitely a lot of interesting potential match ups in the final. The answer is pretty simple though. I want my friend Super Tiger to win A Block. I will be rooting for her the whole way.
Reporter 3: Is that because you’re secretly in love with her?
Minoru had taken a sip of his drink right as the question was asked and he did an actual spit take, along with a bit of coughing and sputtering. He looked down at the reporter, then just started laughing. He looked at Tiger, kept laughing and pointed as he mouthed the words “this fucking guy.”
Minoru Tanahashi: You’re not serious, are you? I am not in love with Tiggy at all. She reminds me of my baby sister. I like Risa of course, we’re friends, but there is zero romantic feelings. Besides, her girlfriend would totally kick my ass.
Minoru shakes his head, takes another sip of his drink, then picks another reporter.
Minoru Tanahashi: Okay, this is going to be the last question after the stupidity of the one before..
Reporter 4: Why take part in this tournament? You yourself said that you didn’t know Vlad Blackheart at all.
Minoru Tanahashi: Well there’s numerous reasons. The simplest one, you win and you have a title match at the year end pay per view. Some people may have deeper reasons, but I guarantee that everyone else, that is part of why they’re here. My other main reason? I still need to prove myself here in NFW. It feels like no matter what I do, I’m still on the outside looking in, like the NFW faithful just aren’t quite sure about me. Then, while I didn’t know Vlad Blackheart, I have heard good things. Now maybe he would have hated my style, maybe he would have dug it, maybe he would have been indifferent, but I definitely feel like the core was the same for him as it is for me. The love of this business, the thrill of competing in that ring, the glory of earning that title. Key word there, earning. I win this tournament, I win the title, I am no longer a new guy or an outsider. I win and I am the man on the brand. This tournament is my best way to prove I deserve that, my best chance to earn that.
Minoru looks right out at the reporters, then up, completely past them at the fans, may of whom are cheering him on. He nods, takes his drink, raises it high and goes back to his seat, vacating the podium for whoever is supposed to go next.
Graham Baker
As the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament’s press conference continues on, we see Graham Baker pull himself to his feet. He’s dressed rather formally for the occasion, in an all black suit jacket and dress pants with a white dress shirt and a black tie on underneath. The Guillotine’s faded mohawk is grown out slightly and combed so as to look presentable, and his beard is trimmed to a more acceptable extent. Baker adjusts his suit jacket and clears his throat as he approaches the podium, before beginning to speak.Graham Baker: Firstly, I’d like to thank NFW for extending to me the opportunity to compete in the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament this go around. I’d like to thank NFW for setting up this environment, this tournament and what it memorializes, and I’d like to take an opportunity to wish the rest of the field good luck in the gruelling matches we, as a collective, are going to partake in over the next few months.
Baker runs a hand through his hair.
Graham Baker: As of this moment, I don’t consider myself to be one of the more prominent members of this roster. Going offline with a knee injury a few weeks after your debut will do that to you, apparently. I also come into this tournament with fewer accolades than I’ve held since the early portion of this year, entrusting my reputation largely to matches I’ve had in the past. I refuse to chase the before-times, I refuse to allow myself to be established on my history alone. NFW has yet to see The Guillotine in full swing, but I promise you, this tournament will be my coming out party. This tournament will be the first, and truest expression of my talent here in NFW.
Baker pauses for a moment, before continuing.
Graham Baker: I can also discern, for the moment, that I’m not the most popular member of this roster. Various individuals both on my side of this tournament as well as the opposing block do have issues with the way I carry myself, the way I perform. These people would claim that I’ve changed, that Graham Baker was never so cruel. The truth couldn’t be farther from it. I’ve always done what was necessary to establish myself at the top of my game, at the top of this industry, and now? Now is no different. I may not be the most professional at points, but what I do deliver are results. I have never once let a company I’ve made a promise to down, and now I make a promise here-I will run through the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament like a house on fire, and I will go to the finals, and for both Vlad and Trauma, I will take this trophy home.
Baker cracks half a smile, before continuing.
Graham Baker: When I look at the field assembled before me, I can see a field of competitors who I’m largely unfamiliar with, but wanting more of. In fact, the only competitor in this field who I’ve locked up with before is Super Tiger, Risa Saito Jackson, but the less said about that the better. I see dream matches, and I see opportunities to cut my teeth against some of the best that NFW has to offer. Griffin Hawkins, Jansen Myrrh, Damon Cross, all ready to run straight into the deadlock. Others, who have something to prove both to the NFW audience at large and to me-Layla Diaz, Lluvia Cane, Ronnie North, Runa Olsen and Jenn Drew-these are names who’ve maybe seen more ring time inside NFW than I have, but I assure you, they’ve never quite met a challenge like me before. The Chopping Block is cleaned and ready, and I’m prepared to level anyone who’s not ready to stack up.
Baker glances dead on at the camera, and speaks with a bit of a newfound intensity, though still keeping his composure.
Graham Baker: Because when I came to NFW, I promised that regardless of where I stood elsewhere, I was going to establish myself as a chopping block. I was going to cut the heads off of every competitor that stood in my way. I was going to do exactly what I needed to do, whenever I needed to do it to get what I wanted to get done. Some of you are surprised by this, when I make threats and claims to go for what I want to go for, saying that Graham Baker’s changed. Graham Baker hasn’t changed, you’ve just found yourself in the blade’s sights, and as much as you love watching and observing from the outside as other warriors are shown no mercy, you don’t have the same enthusiasm when you find yourself in the same merciless path, a casualty on the walk of destruction. I get it, I really do-but double standards will be the death of you all.
Baker chuckles.
Graham Baker: I’m not nice. I never have been. If you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that, it’s deeply unfortunate to hear and I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you. The truth of the matter is, I’ve always been one brutal man, and I intend to keep that reputation. It’s gotten me this far, at least, and that’s what’ll get me through the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament, as I put each and every one of you in my block six feet in the dirt. It’s not malicious, it’s not a bad call, it’s just competition.
Baker smiles as he looks at the camera.
Graham Baker: Vlad Blackheart, I’d imagine, loved the competition of this sport. He loved the back and forth and the trading of blows. I didn’t know him, but I can only imagine as any other competitor did, he enjoyed the truths of combat and the fury between men and women trading such violent blows. I plan on doing my best to honor his memory, and the memory of any warrior who’s passed away with an impact upon this sport like he had. At the end of the day, I’ll stand tall with a trophy in one hand, and a title shot in my back pocket, having honored the truest level of competition to the best of my ability.
Baker takes a step back, prepared to walk away, before he turns back.
Graham Baker: And mercy to any of you motherfuckers who try to get in my way.
He adjusts his suit as he returns to his seat, re-buttoning the front of his jacket and breathing in and out as he awaits the next address.
Maki
Melissa Aki got up off her table, in a tight black dress that accentuated her curves, she purposefully strode to the table with the microphone with her raspberry bubble tea in one hand, took the microphone with the other from the desk and looked straight at the distanced reporters in front of her.Maki: Let me get something off my chest. Look at all of these Collison and Trauma guys. They all think they are special and they are. They work for New Frontier Wrestling. The standard in wrestling so I applaud them all for coming out here and wanting to fight. Yet, I can flip that coin on its head. They all come up here, and for those that haven’t yet, they will give you a rundown of why this person is tough but they will still prevail or how they will gouge someone’s eyes out or claim to easily win this tournament. It is so passé it is ridiculous. I am not going to run through every competitor in this thing. It’s a waste of my time.
She smiles to herself, bends down and whispers something in Korean and then straightens up again.
Maki: All of these friends and foes are in the same boat as me yet we are all so different but they all fit into the same bracket; living off the past glories of the wrestlers that came before them when it comes to these press conferences. Why even bother listing everyone? I don’t get it at all. Though, can you see that glint in their eyes? Most likely anger because they are morons who cannot see past their own ego. They are not in this to do it for Vlad or his memory. They are not here to show the world how far they have improved or for the competitive nature of this tournament. They see dollars. They see achievements. They see title shots. For them this is just a rather nice trinket to boost their own narcissism, to overinflate their sense of self. I get that as we are all in some way Narcissistic. We all clamour for the fans attention, whether it is good or bad, wanting the attention of our peers and the bookers, to show we have evolved into a winner with killer instincts but to name everybody is pathetic. All of them behind me are caricatures of who they claim to be.
There is a rumble of people shifting in their seats, some tattering from her fellow competitors. She smirked as she felt some eyes on her but she carried on regardless.
Maki: You lot can go to hell. I am not here to simply make up the numbers and nor am I here to have one more little trinket for the cabinet and to bask in the acclaim of winning or guaranteeing yourselves a title shot. Oh no, I am here to do justice to the memory of Vlad, to win this tournament in his honour and to beat all of you numpties who couldn’t care less about the reasoning, the history or the pride at winning for someone other than your damn reflections. Which is why for the entirety of the tournament and after this circus is done today, I shall be renaming myself, for Vlad, to be the winner. For Vlaki!
A rotund man in a very nice dark blue suit stood up as she drank some bubble tea.
Reporter 1: Hi Melissa, I am Steve from BBC Worldwide. How does it feel to be representing your country in this amazing tournament against some of the best in the world?
She scoffed and laughed maniacally as she looked back at the two tables from each brand.
Maki: You’re English right? Yes I represent both England and Korea but I am here representing myself so do not ride my coattails like that you arse bandit. Yes, of course they are some of the best in the world but we have moronic stragglers like Cass Baumer or Angel Kash who should NOT be in this but it doesn’t matter. I am going to annihilate each and every obstacle like Vlad would have. I am the spirit of Vlad! The reign of Vlaki is among us! Yes, who is next? Who are you, chickie?
Reporter 2: I am Charlie from NBC Sports. Who would be the opponents you’d like to face and anyone that stands out as an opponent you have always wanted to face?
Maki: Did I not say I thought listing these peeps behind me was meaningless? Fine. I will mention a couple I guess just to keep you ingrates entertained. As after all, isn’t that what this sham is all about? Bloody circus animals playing for the baying crowd. I think you all know who I would or would not deem a worthy adversary but it is moot. I couldn't care less who I face. Just another obstacle to remove from my way. The Vlaki juggernaut is heading your way, motherjammers, it is your choice whether to get out of the way or follow me to greatness! This charade is over!
Melissa Aki, dropped the microphone, turned on her heels, strode past both tables flipping the bird with each hand and exited stage left smirking to herself. Vlad would be proud of how she handled all that bullshit. No time for friendships in this tournament. Screw the lot of them. With that she disappeared from sight.
Jansen Myrrh
Jansen Myrrh rises from her chair. She slowly walks over and stands in front of the podium and then leans forward with her elbows on it. Her hair has been dyed red and she has more colorful makeup on than she normally has. She looks down one side of the panel and then the other and then out to the audience as she slowly shakes her head.Jansen Myrrh: My name is Jansen Myrrh. I was born into this profession. I was trained by World Champions. Multiple World Champions. My uncle was a former World Champion before his death. I have done absolutely nothing since my high school graduation but eat, breathe, sleep professional wrestling. I didn’t lose focus on relationships, I watch very little TV and I don’t play any fucking video games. The past month is the first time in many years that I have taken time for myself to refresh, regroup and refocus my efforts. I have come *this* close to winning my first World Championship, only to come up just a little bit shy. Now it’s time to get my shit together and I feel like my time is coming. It’ll come at the expense of those you see here on this platform on either side of me.
Jansen motions to the Trauma side and then to the Collision side.
Jansen Myrrh: These are the individuals that you have placed your hopes in. These are the individuals who are supposed to entice you to watch this tournament. These right here. Look at the Trauma side, then look down the Collision side. Look at each face. This. This is the competition.
Jansen shakes her head, then lets out a large sigh.
Jansen Myrrh: And I am sorry. I apologize to you right now. From the very bottom of my heart -- no, from my very soul, I apologize. Because you deserve better. You deserve a top-notch tournament with top-notch competitors. You deserve amazing, brilliant matches and what you’re going to get out of this tournament is a whole lot of fucking nothing.
Flashes start to pop as Jansen pauses for a moment. She brushes some of her red hair back, tucking it behind her ear.
Jansen Myrrh: You got your A block and you got your B block. I mean, the B block is just horrid. Look at the lack of talent they’re going to give you here. Tanahashi, Kash, Payne, Kirk, Baumer, Haze -- whoever the fuck that is, and some other freaking people. Really, the only one I see coming out there is Maki. I mean, shit, she’s killing everyone over on Trauma as it is. The real joke is the A block. I literally have no competition. Hawkins is a walking meme. A joke. Somehow he lucked into winning championships. Cross got a lucky win over me at the PPV but he’s otherwise a boring piece of shit. I need my shots to get into the ring with North. Super Tiger is a fucking cartoon who ends up in the hospital after every match. I know I shouldn’t rub in the fact that our five-minute champion Anton Crowley is in this tournament. Really, dude? Lluvia Cain? Really? My toughest challenge is gonna be Baker, but that dude wrestles so much, he’ll be lucky to make it to the tournament.
Jansen just shakes her head.
Jansen Myrrh: Don’t get me wrong, this tournament will have a few moments. But, I promise you one thing. Anytime I have a match, you will be entertained. It will be the one bright spot in an otherwise dismal rainy day tournament. You see, not only is this tournament going to be a snoozefest, but I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Danielle Anderson somehow became the World Champion? How in the hell does that even happen? But I am here to save you. I promise. I’ll lose some matches, it’s bound to happen. But, when my hand is raised at the end of this tournament and I go on to face Anderson for that championship, provided she manages to luck into still being champion when the time comes, and I beat her, then you can finally have an exciting champion. One to be proud of. One to idolize. One to cheer.
Another sigh comes from Jansen as she rights herself.
Jansen Myrrh: Until then, I can only continue to apologize. New Frontier Wrestling. Do better for these fans. They deserve it. They deserve Jansen Myrrh.
She looks down the Trauma side, then she looks down the Collision side and just shakes her head before turning and heading back to her seat.
Griffin Hawkins
Griffin stands up, walking past the members of the A block and B Block. He takes a microphone.Griffin Hawkins: How long has it been since I've been here? A year. And in that time I've done a lot...I've faced some credible opponents...I won the World Title. I've had quite an impressive time here in NFW...and it all started with this very tournament..The Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament. Last year I fought the best that this company has to offer..and won. This time around it's much tougher...
He takes a drink of water.
Griffin Hawkins: This year I'm in the A Block..and the one name that caught my eye..Jenni Drew. This is actually the first time me and her ever faced off. I got no problem with Jenni. I've been a friend of her family for a decade now and they treated me like I was one of their own. But business is business. She's looking to make her comeback by winning this tournament and facing one of the Champions at Wrestlewar XVII...If its me and her in this block, I'm prepared to do whatever is necessary to win. She's known me for many years and she knows how seriously I take this opportunity, and she knows that I am willing to go through anyone and everyone to get back my gold....even her.
He looks to Jenni Drew as a sign of respect, knowing what he's in for.
Griffin Hawkins: Another person who I consider a friend in the A Block...the Super Tiger herself, Risa Saito Jackson..a woman who has fought hard to get where she is today. I know the pressures like her of having to break away from a family that expect nothing but the best...and its apparent that she wants this more than anybody in this block just to do the family name proud. I've never faced her before, so it would be a treat to fight one of the brightest young stars in NFW today. And win or lose...I'll shake her hand and wish her luck as this tournament moves forward. But I hope she is not expecting me to pull any punches...because friend or enemy, I'm in this to win. I set the world on fire when I came here in 2019 and won...and I am looking to repeat once again.
He cracks his neck a little, taking in the atmosphere.
Griffin Hawkins: Jansen Myrhh..the Anti Villain. This is a chick who's not afraid to throw down. Her brawling ability has won her many victories and many titles. And in a match such as this, this only makes her even more dangerous. Just like her Uncle before her..she is looking to win this and face whomever may be Champion. Now..if I have to face her, I look VERY forward to it. Not that I am overlooking her, but I do enjoy a good brawl...and I wouldn't mind testing my abilities against someone who has traveled the world and wrestled in many big name promotions. This girl would definitely give me all that I can handle...and she'll give me one hell of an ass kicking, but I think I may have just about enough to give one right back.
A few members of the press continue taking pictures of him along with the members of the tournament.
Griffin Hawkins: Another familiar face in this..Damon Cross...a man who is on his own road to redemption. Like him, I know what it's like to go down a dark barren path...losing everything..family..friends...loved ones. He's looking to become Champion..turn everything around. I know going up against him, I'm facing a man possessed. A man who has been through everything that would drive another soul into madness. I admire him though. Others blame people around them for their downfall, but he takes it upon himself. Should we fight in this tourney...I am looking for the man who wants to right all the wrongs in his life, a man who wants to eliminate all doubts. I am facing someone who I was at one point or another. I was a man who wanted to rise above all the turmoil. Facing him would be like facing a mirror image of myself."
He notices Ronnie North on the far end.
Griffin Hawkins: Ronnie North is another man who I've been waiting to test my skills against. As long as we've known each other, we have NEVER crossed paths. Some look at him and see some sleazy gimmick...not me. I see past the flash and the flare and I see an athlete who can and will get the job done in that ring. The two of us seem different on paper..but we both got one thing in common. People have taken one look at us and say...oh, he's just a gimmick, he's nothing. But it's that kind of carelessness that made us a house hold name...even if his is mostly adult movies....but nonethless I respect his drive and his hustle, but I am in it to win this tournament once again and recapture the Undisputed Title."
He takes a drink of water before continuing.
Griffin Hawkins: But it doesn't stop there...we also got a member of the Kingdom in this tournament...Lluva Cane. I've already had my dealings with members of the Kingdom...not to mention the last time me and her faced off, she beat me. I got nothing against her, but I've been wanting to even the score since. There's also Baker..a guy who is not all there, but is a dangerous cat to step in between those ropes with, I know if I encounter him in this tournament, I'm in for a long night. This whole tournament is built on the blood, sweat and tears of the greatest that NFW have to offer...and I feel honored to compete alongside them. But only one can walk out with the golden ticket to Wrestlewar. Dunno who I'm facining...but whoever comes up against me...is gonna get rocked.
He walks back to his seat.
Angel Kash
The scene opens up with a load of cameras flashing as we are live from the Vlad Blackheart Memorial tournament, As the flashbulbs hit all over coming up is none other than the Trillion Dollar Princess Angel Kash, who has on a bright gold dress, gold high heel pumps, and a gold Chanel handbag. As she eyes the cameras with her trademark snobbish look looking down at those around her as well. As the haughty princess rolls her eyes before taking the time to begin speaking in her normal arrogant tone.Angel Kash: Its been a long time coming but finally it is just right around the corner. The premier wrestling tournament happens yearly, the Vald Blackheart Memorial Tournament. A lot of talent comes out in order to compete in this tournament, in fact the winner will make their way to the WrestleWar main event. And that person who will be in the main event of WrestleWar is gonna be me, its gonna be the Trillion Dollar Princess Angel Kash.
Angel smirks, as she hears some laughter behind her, causes her to roll her eyes in disgust. As she eyes those around her with the same disgusted look on her face, as she begins to speak once again.
Angel Kash: And you can chuckle and be amused and think how can Angel say that with such confidence knowing how stacked this year's tournament is. We have former world champions, we have up and coming stars, and legends. We have it all in this tournament, and they are thinking about the audacity of Angel Kash saying she will win this tournament, and get that main event spot at WrestleWar. Well here is the thing, this tournament is more than a test of skill, or brawn its a test of condonting and brains. And brains is something I have naturally, and my condontining I have been training with the best. My new workout regime has improved my condonting ten fold. Something my competitors here will be finding out very soon. When this tournament begins in one month.
Angel says with a look of confidence on her face as she snaps her fingers and is handed a water bottle which she takes a sip. Before, looking around placing a hand on her hip as she keeps the same snobby look on her face.
Angel Kash: I mean there's a reason the saying is money talks because it does. But in a month another saying will ring true that actions speak louder than words. Thats where I will prove it doesn't matter what my record in NFW is when it comes to this, because anything can and will happen, the landscape by the end of this can be turned on its damn head and that's what I plan to do. Starting with my block of the tournament the B block.
Angel says with a smirk, as she counties on.
Angel Kash: I mean we still don’t know who one person is in the tournament. Well, to that person I say this you might have the element of surprise on hand, but that element will evaporate quickly because this isn’t a normal tournament. So after the first match it will be know all your strengths, all of your weaknesses and how to exploit them.
Angel maintains the same smirk, as she looks around the room once again, before returning her graze ot the cameras in front of her.
Angel Kash: Next is the current Splat Multiverse Champion, and a woman I know well in the ring as everytime we seem to step foot one on one I beat her. Despite all the the trash talk, and all of the threats it always ended up with me getting the one, two, three over her. And it will be the same story in this tournament yet again. I am not here to play games with anyone anymore in NFW and it starts in this tournament.
Angel says as her look on her face gets more serious than usual.
Angel Kash: Anton Crowely you might lead a group, but this won’t be about that. Tournament matches only have two people in them, I don’t need friends to win this tournament, Sela Rice Lark we get a chance to have our rubber match. I pinned you once here and you pinned me once. We will settle it, and it will end in victory for the Trillion Dollar Princess, and thats all their is to it.
Angel flips her long blonde hair out of her eyes as her trademark smirk returns to her face. As she returns her gaze to the camera.
Angel Kash: Cass, you seem to be involved in some sort of drama wherever you go. Well in this tournament your mind better be on it, you have better be focused because one false step one bad move and it will be over for you. Melissa Aki you and me go way back I mean way back when fact is we don’t like each other well mostly jealous of me but I am used to that, its something I have dealt with my entire life. See I have a plan and I plan on walking out of this tournament the winner and with the WrestleWar title shot. Don’t think I have forgotten about the others I know the talent in this tournament is off the carts but what Angel wants Angel gets.
Angel blows a kiss to the camera as she saunters off, proud of her words ready to take the world by storm. As the scene then fades to black.
Morgan Payne
When she’s called upon, Morgan’s sitting in the back with her feet up on the table. While it seems most of the participants in the tournament have dressed to impress to the fullest, Morgan has chosen a much more casual wardrobe. Black jeans, boots, a button up shirt and her leather jacket. Her hair is pulled back with a hair tie to keep it out of her face. She can feel the eyes of some competitors on her as well as the NFW management that are present. There’s a painfully long, tense moment before she swings her boots off of the table and gets up out of her chair. It’s a calm yet determined walk from her seat to the podium. Focused. Driven. Her blue and green eyes are locked on the podium ahead of her as she approaches. When she reaches the podium, she stops, rests her hands on the sides and looks out over the mass of reporters gathered outside of the Collision Center. Morgan takes a deep breath and lets it out before a scoffing chuckle escapes her and she shakes her head.Morgan Payne: Shit’s funny, yanno. I never wanted to even be in dis tournament.
She bites the side of her bottom lip, shaking her head with another chuckle again.
Morgan Payne: I didn’t. I had my self doubts about throwin’ my name in da hat. But yanno what? I’ll be real wif yinz.
Pause again and she runs a hand down her mouth. Morgan looks back over the other nineteen competitors then back at the gathering of press with their cameras and audio recorders. She gives a half shrug.
Morgan Payne: Dis tournament? To compete in dis tournament? Shit. Dis my fuckin’ birthright, yeah? These motherfuckers here?
Without looking, Morgan points behind her at the B Block table.
Morgan Payne: Ain’t a damn one of ‘em gives a fuck abaht what dis tournament really stands for! All they care abaht is trynna make a bigger name for themselves off da memory of a man they never knew; won’t ever give a shit abaht! S’all abaht a trophy to them. Innit, motherfuckers?
Morgan grabs the microphone and pulls it out of the clasp on the podium, turning to look towards the rest of her table.
Morgan Payne: Let’s take a real good fuckin’ look at who we got here. Motherfuckers like Minoru Tanahashi. Maki. Ol’ Playtime Sela, da Queen of da Underground. Whatever da fuck dat means. Angel Kash? Bitch, what da fuck is you doin’ here? Nah, don’t tell me.
She leans back against the podium, propping her other elbow up on it.
Morgan Payne: You here to add to your graaaaaaaaand fuckin’ record ain’cha? Look at her, sittin’ there in her fuckin’ ten thousand dollar dress, or no, ‘scuse me. Is it twenty thou? Thirty? I don’t give a fuck. Ain’t nobody here gives a fuck. I dunno why your General Manager even signed you to dis tournament. I don’t even know why Commissioner Brody signed you a contract. All yo ass do is talk abaht ya fuckin’ bank account like da size of your wallet matters between a set of ring ropes. Bitch, Kash, your ass is an insult to everything Vlad Blackheart believed wrestling was about. Who else we got?
Morgan looks across the table of nine other competitors in her block. She pushes off of the podium and points over where Sela Rica-Lark sits.
Morgan Payne: How ‘bout you, huh? What’chu here for? Find some new playmates? Bleed some new faces? You a tough bitch, I’ll give ya dat, but’chu don’t give a shit about da memory of da man who even built dis company? You lost da United States title to Adrianna Salvatore and now ya wanna act like it was only a steppin’ stone to you makin’ it here. Winnin’ a trophy and a contract dat gets you to Wrestle War for a title match dat you somehow feel is due to you? Bitch, you ain’t no better than her!
She points, again, over to Angel Kash before dropping her hand, scowling at the people she’s to face in the block.
Morgan Payne: I ain’t gon’ lie. I got people in here I got a shred of respect for. Cass. Anton. Remi. But do I think any of yinz understand what dis tournament is for? Nah.Ya might think you do. Yanno it’s a memorial event. Ya might know Vlad Blackheart dedicated his life to dis business. Shit, we all know dat but he did more than dat. He passed on everything he knew, everything he valued, to da people he believed could truly carry on his memory. His legacy.
Morgan turns back towards the press again and leans against the podium; her free arm resting on the surface in front of her. She slowly slips the microphone back into it’s clasp and folds both arms over each other before lifting her mouth to the microphone again.
Morgan Payne: Last year was the second memorial tournament...and just abaht everyone dat knew who Vlad Blackheart really was - everyone who really loved him - they turned they back on the company he pioneered for. They turned they back on his memory and went off to put their names on paper for a half ass company dat tries sooooo fuckin’ hard to be what the New Frontier is. Two people are left.
She raises up a hand in a fingerless glove, extending two fingers. She then lowers her middle finger, leaving her index finger.
Morgan Payne: Only one’s here.
She thumbs to herself before lowering her hand. Her lips tighten to stop her bottom lip quivering and she tries to hold that hardened gaze as her eyes grow misty.
Morgan Payne: Me. I am da only one fighting in dis tournament who cares abaht more than just da block medal, da tournament trophy, shit, I care abaht more than da main event at Wrestle War and takin’ ahn da World Heavyweight Champion.
She pauses again, running her thumb and index fingers down the corners of her mouth, thoughtfully.
Morgan Payne: I’m still learnin’ shit from people who came before me in dis sport but there’s one thing someone taught me and I got a good feelin’ she’s prolly watchin’ dis right now.
For a brief moment, Morgan looks directly up at the main camera that’s broadcasting to viewers around the world. She then looks around at the press again.
Morgan Payne: Makin’ your name here...makin’ it as a wrestler...it ain’t always abaht winnin’ trophies. It ain’t always abaht winnin’ titles. It ain’t abaht who has da most championships on they record. It’s abaht da moments you make. It’s about da memories you give to da motherfuckers watchin’ you from da crowd or at home on they couches, wishin’ they was in our shoes, doin’ what we do. And yanno what? I believe it. I mean, again…
Morgan looks right back at Angel Kash specifically and motions to her.
Morgan Payne: Dis cunt talks abaht titles she’s got and I only know abaht one of ‘em cause we work in da same other company. Other than dat? I dunno what da fuck she’s done. Cass Baumer’s made more memories than her! Maki’s made more memories. Shit, Anton Crowley’s quickly made a rep of permanently putin’ muh’fuckers on da shelf. You done made some fine ass memories. Round o’fuckin’ applause!
Morgan takes a moment to applaud for a moment. The sound of leather slapping leather fills the air as she claps her gloved hands. Whether she’s actually commemorating Anton or mocking him….isn’t exactly clear. It’s hard to tell with Morgan anymore. Regardless, she places her hands on the podium and speaks into the microphone again.
Morgan Payne: Yeah, it’s abaht da memories more than anything. I got a few of my own. I wrestled my first death match and I put away a little bitch dat calls herself da warrior in another language because she thinks it sounds cool. I pinned a twenty five year veteran of dis sport without any dirty ass tricks. I pushed another veteran to his limit da very same night. Yinz wanna see a real moment, though? Watch dis fuckin’ tournament and pay reeeeeeal good attention because da greatest moment in da history of dis tournament is abaht to happen. Is it abaht more than winning it all? Yeah, sure it is, but...yinz can bet your goddamn asses dat I am gonna win it all. Da B Block medal...da tournament trophy…. It don’t matter which of them makes it for A Block.
Morgan motions back to the A Block table now.
Morgan Payne: I’m gonna bring it to them just as much as I bring it to anyone else, and I’m gonna be da one dat goes to Wrestle War Seventeen in December….
Morgan’s gaze goes cold and hard; more serious than we’ve ever seen her before. The goofy, fun loving prankster is all but gone, replaced by a stone faced, hardened competitor. That hardened competitor, however, dips her head and rubs an eye with the back of her hand.
Morgan Payne: Because in dis tournament, I am Vlad Blackheart’s last, remaining legacy. His pupil...his student...his family...and just like in one of his favorite stories…I’m gonna khaleesi my ass up into dis tournament and finally take what’s mine...with fire...and blood….
Going silent, Morgan steps back from the podium as the cameras continue to flash and snap. She promptly sits back in her chair, kicking one foot up on the table and sparks up a cigarette, brooding in her seat as the press conference continues....
Anton Crowley
It had come time for Anton Crowley’s turn to speak. He was announced by the NFW intern, Jessie Clarkson. He was sitting calmly in a black and red suit. Throughout the other’s turns, he had not shown a single emotion. No matter what was said to or about him he remained stoic. After he was announced he didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge it. Poor Jessie gave a nervous chuckle and announced Anton again.He still didn’t react. He was sitting there, statue-like. Both Steven Brody and Isabella Santiago were sharing a look. They had both started to stand up when, in the back of the crowd, Iscariot XIII and Cali-Kate stand up. Iscariot is dressed in all black, Kate in a strapless black dress with her hair in light curls, falling like a waterfall behind her. The dress itself has a slit running up to her hips even as it falls just above her feet where her dark heels are seen with every step she takes. And of course, she has the NFW Undisputed Title over her shoulder.
They make their way through the middle aisle of the crowd, Kate leading the way, and arrive at the podium. She struts with an air of confidence. Her hips swaying, drawing everyone’s attention. She knows she is the best-looking one here, and she belongs to Anton. Everyone else can only look, and want. Kate adjusts the microphone as Iscariot stands behind her to the left, like a bodyguard.
Cali-Kate: This should not be a damn surprise to anyone. After Sudden Death, there is no doubt that Anton has what it takes to hold this title. Last year he made it to the damn Blood of the Gladiators match after the Tournament. He fucking went on to win that match. It was in that match that he ended the career of Nico Salvatore. Something he has gone on to do to another wrestler.
Kate looks over her shoulder at the gathered tournament members. Anton finally moves, simply nodding to kate.
Cali-Kate: On the last Trauma we explained ourselves. Why what happened, happened. Anton is the single most fucking dangerous member of the Trauma roster. I’d even go so far as to say in the entire damn NFW. He is, by far, the most dangerous person in this year’s tournament. Just consider it all for a moment. How many of those up here can fucking claim such accolades? And how many of them have that hunger so soon after having the gold in your hands? Oh he may not be the official holder, but as I said before, as far as I'm concerned he is the champion alongside me. Anton might do more than just fucking beat you. He might do to you what he did to Nico and Marcello. I hope you all have invested wisely. Losing your career would not be a fucking good time.
Iscariot smirks as he stands guard behind Kate. He towers over her, and every tournament participant.
Cali-Kate: Anton is the most deserving to win this tournament. He is the only one worthy enough to win it. His past actions speak to that. What he has done is fucking undeniable. He is one of only two former top NFW Champions to sign up. We know you would all love to see us have to face off for this title. That might happen. It might not. For all you know, he may choose to go to Collision and challenge for the World title. Imagine that world, where House Crowley holds all the top gold. Not a final boss anyone would want to fucking face. But no matter what, Anton will win the third annual Vlad Blackheart memorial Tournament.
Kate finishes her speech on Anton’s behalf and moves back to where he is sitting. He smiles at her and scoots his chair back. She sits on his lap and he wraps an arm around her. They share a deep kiss as Iscariot moves to the podium.
Iscariot XIII: The Lady of House Crowley has told you all WHY Lord Crowley deserves to and will win this tournament. It is now my job to run down his opponents and tell you his thoughts on them. There will be no answering of questions, unless Lord Crowley decides to do so himself.
Iscariot glares out at the gathered crowd and reporters. His gaze balks any interruption.
Iscariot XIII: I will start with Minoru Tanahashi, the so-called Black Lion. The rebel that had to bounce around and around until he finally found his place. He lacks the discipline and drive that Lord Crowley has. Something you will learn first hand when you step into the ring with him in the coming weeks.
The statement brings a nod from both Anton and Kate.
Iscariot XIII: Next we have Maki. As my Lord called her, the self-proclaimed demon. I agree with my Lord’s assessment. So many times mental illness has been equated to demonic possessions and entities. My Lord, rightfully, believes that you are nothing more than the former. A mentally damaged woman using that to try and impress and intimidate. It would be effective were it not for the fact that Lord Crowley communes with actual demons regularly. Lord Crowley shall show you the error of your thoughts. May the truth help set you free.
Iscariot glances back over his shoulder to the gather wrestlers. He smirks before continuing.
Iscariot XIII: Remi Fontaine. One of the two unknowns in Lord Crowley’s bracket. Though you might be unknown to others, Lord Crowley is no slouch. He studies everyone. He knows plenty about you. Your similar affliction to Maki. The reason behind your absence. Your inability to find your footing after returning. He will make sure you learn where you stand. Where you have to come from to be ready to stand with the elite.
Iscariot XIII: Angel Kash. NFW’s resident spoiled brat. The woman who thinks she is far better than she actually is. Lord Crowley wonders how much longer it will take for her to learn that her money and artificial looks do not equate to actual talent. She might equate herself to a female Lex Luthor, but she lacks all the intelligence and cunning.
Iscariot looks back at Anton and Kate. Kate gives him a nod for the proper comic character reference.
Iscariot XIII: Next on the list is Morgan Payne. The wayward Kingdom member. So full of herself. So angry. She gives up something she obviously wants and desires for her senseless, selfish pride. She could be so much more. She could be an honest threat in this tournament. But she cannot focus. That alone will be her downfall against Lord Crowley. Should she somehow find her focus, she might actually do well. But Lord Crowley is not worried about that happening anytime soon. Especially after the brutal beating she took at Cruel Summer.
Anton smirks from his seat.
Iscariot XIII: Cassandra Baumer. The failed reporter. The woman who will do anything and everything for attention. Despite the saying, there is such a thing as bad press. You stick your nose in literally everywhere. Where it belongs, where it doesn’t. You fawn and crawl after people who wouldn’t piss on your teeth if your gums were on fire. You make Lord Crowley sick. There is a special place in Hell for people like you. One I am very familiar with. When your time comes, and it could at Lord Crowley’s hands, you will learn of the high price your actions have accrued. Then, your cries of pain and torture will be a sweet symphony.
In the background, both Anton and Kate nod their agreement.
Iscariot XIII: Sela Rica-Lark. The self-proclaimed underground Queen. One of the many queens in this business. Her only win against Lord Crowley was one he gifted to her. She will likely spout off the same tired things she always says. Playtime this, violence that. But when push comes to shove, when it really matters, she falls flat. This tournament will be no different. Like your last match, Lord Crowley will prove why the win you have over him was given to you in pity. It will be the only one you ever get over him.
Iscariot gives a derisive snort.
Iscariot XIII: There is the other unknown in this bracket, Emevlas Stastias. Like Remi, Lord Crowley has done his research on you. You are nothing but a front. Similar to Baumer in that regard. You have had success once, but at a high cost. No one likes you. No one cares if you were to breathe your last. You have decided to crawl out of obscurity to try and once again claim some spotlight. Lord Crowley will thoroughly enjoy shoving you back down into the shadows and sewers where you belong. Consider this your warning and only form of kindness from my Lord.
Iscariot looks back at Anton. They share a look with Iscariot’s being one of questioning. Anton nods and Iscariot turns back to the microphone.
Iscariot XIII: Debby Haze. Last and certainly least. She has had so many chances to shine and has fallen short every time. First eliminated in everything to do with the Guardians of the Pyramid match. Last in every respect. An afterthought to all involved here. Lord Crowley thanks you in advance for the points.
With those final words, Iscariot looks once again to Anton. Anton shakes his head and turns his attention fully to Kate.
Iscariot XIII: Lord Crowley shall not be answering any question. You all have been warned. The ascension of House Crowley shall continue.
Iscariot nods and leaves the podium. He walks back down the center aisle and returns to his seat at the back of the crowd.
Layla Diaz
After sitting at the table for what felt like forever, a bored looking Layla Diaz stands up from her seat. Clad in a black and crimson pant suit, complete with a lapel pin featuring her entrance mask on the suit, Diaz walks up to the podium as she pretends to yawn. As she stands at the podium a smile comes across her face stretching almost ear to ear. She looks around at the rest of the competitors from Collision and Trauma with a sly grin on her face and then out to the reporters and fans in attendance. That grin quickly dissolves into a scowl.Layla Diaz: Yous all really tryin’ ta test mah patience her taday. Yous hold a press conference filled wit all twenty of us just sittin’ her tryin’ ta look pretty an fa what? When I went ahead and tru mah name in da hat for dis tournament it was fa one reason an one reason only. Dat reason was cuz I was finna prove ta all you lil bishes sittin’ up her like dis a god damn beauty contest dat Layla muthafuckin’ Diaz was a force dat needed ta be recognized. Yous sees, I look round dis gaggle a goofs an I see some peeps wit some experience. I see some peeps dat was involved in dis tournament last year. I see some peeps dat been doin dis rodeo for a minute. Me? I ain’t been round dat long. I made mah pro wrestling debut dis year; 2020. I started mah training for pro wrestling dis year. Now I knows der be a few of yous ta mah side and behind mah back rollin’ yous eyes all cuz I’ma gettin’ dis opportunity while others be forced ta watch from da sidelines. Still, da truth is da truth. Luther Callaway wanted a membah of da Second City Riot Squad to represent in dis her tournament. Hell, les jus call a spade a spade. Luther Callaway wanted Leah Aguero ta be da representative her in dis tournament. Fucks dat doe. Nah, I ain’t lettin’ dat shit slide. I says ta Leah… I says, “Give me a shot, yo. Put me in dis tournament and I’ll mow on true dem. Straight Knees an Cuttahs, SCRS style.” Leah saw dat look in mah eyes. She said it be dat same spunk she saw in mah eyes when she went an plucked me otta dat Squire’s o Texas facility earlier dis year. Now her I stan taday lettin’ all yous know dat I ain’t lettin’ dis shot blow me by. I’ma finna put A Block on notice. Yous come up against me an you finna feel da business end of a bayonet.
Still holding the scowl on her face, Layla Diaz looks to either side of the podium, eyeballing the competition that stands before her in this tournament.
Layla Diaz: Now, I ain’t finna stan her and be disrespectful an shit. Dis tournament done been put togetha fo a reason. Is ta honor Vlad Blackheart an I ain’t finna stan her makin’ up stories bout how we was tight or anything. Naw, I neva knew him. I couldn’t say what he done befoe me. I couldn’t say if he was a champion or not. But dat ain’t me bein’ disparagin’. Naw, nuttin’ furtha from dat. He was obviously a cool cat if he be remembahed dis way. Dats somethin’ I can put sum respec on. Mattah a fact, how’s bout we celebrate da ones dat come befoe us?
Layla Diaz reaches down into the podium as though she stowed something away inside of it earlier in the day. Rising back to her feet she pulls out a bottle of Jeppson’s Malort. She twists the cap off and holds it high in the air.
Layla Diaz: We eminatin’ from da sweet city of Chicago, yo. So, if we finna honor someone we finna do dis shit south side style. Dis one fo da homie dat we celebratin’.
Layla Diaz pours a bit of the alcohol onto the stage and then takes a drink of her own straight from the bottle before setting it on top of the podium.
Layla Diaz: An dat one was fa me. Now, I look round at all yous on dis stage and I see everyone of yous comin’ up her, layin’ yous claim ta winnin’ dis tournament, desperately tryin’ ta get noticed by da management ova her in efforts to get yous a title shot down da line. I’ma finna be blunt fa a minute if yous don’t mind. Of course yous don’t mind. It’s mah time to talk aftah hearin’ all yous drone on so I’ma finna take mah time until dat Oscar music starts playin’ and Mistah Brody be tryin’ ta escort me back ta mah seat. I don’t give no shits bout winnin’ dis tournament an gettin’ me a title shot. I know. Gasp, right? Her she goes, mouthin’ off bout not currin’ wedder she wins dis tournament o not? Why she even her den? I’m fuckin’ dis tournament up, yo. I’m bringin’ it straight out da south side. If I take dis whole damn tournament den so be it. I ain’t finna turn dat shit down. But da point bein’ I’m her so all you lil bishes can start takin’ notice. Wedder it be yous, Lluvia Caine; you dumb bish. Comin’ for da SCRS fa da umpteenth time like da Queen’s Guard even stans a chance against us. Wedder it's our resident doctah, Runa Olsen; I’d like ta see where yous get yous degree from sweetie. Wedder it’s da pretty boy, Griffin Hawkins… okay yous kinda coo doe but still. Besides, yous should know moe den all deez bishes up her what it means ta come inta dis tournament witout peeps knowin’ who yous is an winnin dis ting, right? Graham Baker… you know what? Da less said bout yous da bettah. Der was a point yous been walkin’ round da circuit like “I’m Baker 4-belts. I’m Baker 5-belts, I’m Baker 6-”... it neva mattahed how many belts yous go round collectin’. Where dey at now yous Baker Bish?
Layla Diaz reaches for the bottle of Malort another time and takes a swig straight from the bottle again.
Layla Diaz: Don’t yous all worry. I’ma be comin’ fa all yous soon enough. Supah Tigah… o is it Risa? Neva can remembah. Maybe I jus don’t curr. Yous knows, when da SCRS started takin’ names ova her in NFW, yous partnah was talkin’ lots a shit. When she recognized we ain’t someone yous wanta fuck wit, she backed off. Yous was at least smart enough ta not say shit. If yous smart, yous continue doin’ jus dat uddah wise yous jus might be havin’ anotha trip ta da local medical facility. Jenn Drew, who is yous? Ronnie North? Get da fuck otta her. If peeps be poppin’ off dat I don’t belong, dey mus really be talkin’ shit bout you. Damon Cross? Watch yous back, brah. Yous betta stay in yous lane reals quick befoe you jus might end up in anotha mishap wit a car.
Another time, Layla Diaz reaches out grabbing the bottle of Malort. This time she turns it up, chugging the alcohol down. When she sets it back down, the bottle is only about half full.
Layla Diaz: Sorrys. I guess I jus be feelin’ a bit parched. Dat o I’m jus warmin’ up because yous, Jansen Myrrh. Yous da one I’ma lookin’ fowad ta facin’ moe den any uddah one a deez bishes up on da stage. Yous always walkin’ roun deez parts like yous big an bad. Guess what? I ain’t liked yous ass since da moment I laid eyes on yous. Leah was always like, “she good people.” Naw, fuck dat. A snake is a snake. Yous always was and always will be. Yous been usin’ Leah eva since yous thought yous had her undah yous spell back in MHW. Yous two got a history. I get dat but yous always been a lyin’ connivin lil bish. “Not Your Villain” “The Anti-Villain”. Bish, yous bettah knock dat shit off right now. Yous can try ta change yous colahs bah trowin on a new coat a paint but dat don’t change who yous in undahneath. Naw, Myrrh. When we meet in dis tournament you can Myrrh-der dis.
Layla Diaz looks like she’s ready to lunge for Jansen Myrrh but before she can, Jed Coffey leaps up on the stage and picks Layla Diaz up into the air. He holds her up in the air.
Layla Diaz: I cool, Mighty J. Jus put we down. We good, yo.
Instead of setting her down, he continues to hold her over his shoulder. He leans into the lowered podium.
Jed Coffey: What Red was meaning to say is that she plans on entering the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament III as the underdog. While many will opt to dismiss her as she is still in her rookie year as a professional wrestler, she will prove herself throughout the tournament as a competent competitor that can more than hold her own. Red chooses to use a colorful language utilizing her native South Chicago dialect that can often piss off or trigger others. Deep down she respects her opponents and wishes them the best in this tournament. Ideally, it would be a simple case of Schmucks Up, Schmucks Down but given the field of competitors she will be contending with, we anticipate a hotly contested affair throughout the duration of the tournament. Thank you.
Jed Coffey starts making his way over to Layla Diaz’s seat but Diaz’s voice is still being picked up by the microphones.
Layla Diaz: Fuck dat. Dats not how I feels. I’ma fuck all yous up. Knees an Cuttahs. Knees an Cuttahs, Bishes. Straight out da South Side. We doin dis SCRS style.
Jed Coffey sets her back down in her designated seat and stands behind her for the duration of the press conference to ensure she doesn’t get out of hand and attack her fellow competitors. Jed looks to the next speaker and guides them forward to take the podium.
Cass Baumer
Jessica Clarkson: Continuing with the third-annual Vlad Blackheart Memorial press conference, please welcome Cass Baumer!Cass Baumer hoists a seven-foot-tall New Zealand flag in her arms as she moves up the aisle. She plants the flag off-center behind the podium with some clumsy difficulty, then returns to her table to grab her bottled water as quickly as possible. The Kiwi puts the bottle on the podium and gestures to someone in the audience. In a moment, an adept American Sign Language interpreter flanks her on the temporary stage to translate all Cass says in realtime for the deaf NFW fans. All of this takes a considerable amount of time, but after it’s all complete, Cass takes a brief moment to smile and acknowledge everyone in attendance with her dark blue eyes rimmed in forest green.
Cass Baumer: Hey! Kia ora! Konichiwa!
The Ueno Park resident bows casually.
Cass Baumer: Thanks for coming, everyone. Today, I’ll be taking your questions, but I’ve got some things to say before all that.
Baumer boldly adjusts the notch lapels of her light gray oversized double-breasted pinstriped suit and tightens the maroon necktie hanging over a dark maroon undershirt as she addresses the masses. Complete with matching pinstriped slacks and light gray dress shoes, her clean and neatly pressed attire has been thoughtfully put together for this momentous event.
Cass Baumer: Recently, I’ve been fiercely criticised by the public. When people called for me to leave the wrestling industry on social media, it tore me up inside. But after the initial shock of it all wore off, I began to examine their arguments objectively. What I found is a kernel of truth that I need to address right now.
With a pause, Baumer glances at the notes she’s brought with her to the podium while the New Zealand flag flutters violently in the Windy City. The sign language interpreter keeps pace.
Cass Baumer: When I started this journey of bettering myself sixteen months ago, I thought I did it in earnest. I wanted to redefine the legacy I created for myself, put in the work to become a better wrestler, and make sure I’d be proud to look back at all I’ve done when it’s time to retire. It was comforting to think about all I did like my very own story of redemption. I finally slept well at night, and I was able to look at myself in the mirror each morning. People gave me praise, and I—
Cass stops midsentence, visually stunned by the words that have come out of her mouth.
Cass Baumer: And that’s the problem, isn’t it? For all the talk about the work I’m putting in to be better, the fact that I feel the need to brag about it shows I still have progress to make. In NFW, especially.
She unscrews the cap on her water bottle and takes a swig.
Cass Baumer: I’m an attention whore. That’s what I’m told. And no matter how hard I tried to reclaim the phrase to lessen its impact, social media these past few weeks wouldn’t let that stick. So I thought about it. I thought about how I used to wear it like a badge of honour. I’ve come to discover it’s an albatross better left drowning in its bullshit at the bottom of Lake Michigan!
Cassandra looks out into the crowd with a wistful nod in front of her New Zealand flag backdrop.
Cass Baumer: Far too many times, I’ve talked about what happened at the end of NFW Invasion on February 25th in the Tokyo Dome. I made it sound like it was my greatest accomplishment, but it wasn’t. It didn’t take much skill to hijack the spotlight of the main event without Sativa’s permission, and screw Ian Dickenson out of the biggest title win of his life! I was afraid of irrelevancy! I wanted the attention of that bombastic debut without the effort, and then I had the gull to act like I was in the right!!
Pain hides behind the anger as she shouts the words into the microphone. Cass starts to loosen her dark reddish-purple tie as the audience watches intently.
Cass Baumer: I tormented the Dickensons for weeks on end. I interfered in Onlaught’s matches when all I wanted was that fast track to a higher spot. I derailed their careers and altered the course of the entire promotion, but the win felt hallow. Not because of the extreme rules match itself, no — I still wince when I think about that pop-up powerbomb into those LEGO bricks! Nah, It felt empty ‘cause I realised all I did to make it happen ran contrary to what I claim to represent. It’s contrary to what the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament represents too, but with it starting in a few days, it’s as good a time as any to make a change, eh?
A small cheer erupts as the bubbly foreigner tosses her tie over the podium and into the crowd! The symbolism is lost on most of them, though. A fan catches it and lazily wraps it around his neck like a scarf. The lights and sounds of flash photography capture the moment.
Cass Baumer: Alright! Let’s hear those questions!
Several members of the press raise their hands with a clipboard on their laps.
Cass Baumer: You! Lucas Garnett from Wrestle Observer.
Lucas Garnett: What does the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament mean to you?
Baumer takes a sip of her water as she prepares to answer. The flashes of light from smartphones and cameras alike continue while the sign language translator stands readily by.
Cass Baumer: Instead of giving you the boilerplate answer, I’ll give you one better: I don’t talk about it much, but I’m a Christian. I didn’t know Mr Blackheart, but I’ve done the research. And I think he’ll be watching this tournament from on high just like you guys! Probably on an epic 64k Smart TV, yeah? So I can’t make a mistake.
She smiles wide at the thought, laughing at her own comment with a cute snort. More photography. The flag continues to flutter against the unrelenting wind.
Cass Baumer: I wanna make the whole Blackheart family proud like when Griffin and Judas won the last two years, and then capture the NFW World Heavyweight Championship in the main event of WRESTLE WAR XVII on December 15th!
Cassandra points to someone else.
Cass Baumer: Karissa Jennings… Ringside Seat, right?
Kari nods and shouts out her question without a mic. It’s hard to make out what she says, but there are yellow subtitles at the bottom of the screen.
Karissa Jennings: After all you’ve said, it feels like you contradicted yourself with the last answer?
Cass Baumer: How?
Cass responds to the accusation calmly like she knows how this works.
Karissa Jennings: You talked about how you wanted to remove yourself from the perception of always wanting attention, but now you’re talking about how you want to win the NFW World Heavyweight Championship, no?
Cass Baumer: Ms Jennings, you can’t be serious! When Mr Brody announced the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament back in 2018, he said it was a ‘true test of skill and endurance.’ It ain’t about the trophy! It’s not about the fame, and it sure as hell isn’t about the money! It’s about proving myself to me, and that’s it! It’s about fully pushing myself to see how much I’ve learned from my training worldwide! Hell, it’s about revelling in the opportunity and carving my opponents’ faces with the glass ceiling shards!
She takes a moment to relax before she calls on the next reporter.
Cass Baumer: Alexander Ripley, Five Star Radio!
Alex Ripley: Can you talk a little bit about those opponents? Specifically, everybody in your block — B Block.
Cass Baumer: I’m sure I’ll be tweeting about all the competitors in more detail as the tournament progresses, but if you want soundbites, I’ve got ‘em!
Cass Baumer: Pardon the musings, but Minoru Tanahashi is a great competitor who’s beaten me in NFW before. He’s walking into this round-robin tournament with momentum on his side, and he’s not short on confidence either. He knows I need to fight him again to right the wrongs of our previous encounter, but I don’t think he understands how much I want to come out on top when this Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament is through. I don’t think Morgan Payne comprehends the lengths I’ll go to assure she can’t win this tournament either. I’ll break ribs, bust lips, and headbutt them both ‘til blood starts to gush if that’s what I’ve gotta do to assure the two of them stay down. With the willpower they’ve got, it’d take nothing less to make sure they’ll stay down.
Cass cracks her knuckles. The sound it makes comes through the microphone. It’s audibly disgusting.
Cass Baumer: Payne’s a book I’ve read cover to cover. I trained with all the same teachers as she did except for whatever she learned in the Kingdom, but I know she’s excellent. Even with all the knowledge I’ve got about her, I know she’s still the toughest opponent I’ve got in our block, and that’s by a wide margin. Without the deathmatch wrestling training I’ve had in DTW Death Dojo though, I know she’ll hesitate under pressure and reveal that famous Morgan indecisiveness that’s reared its ugly head in recent months. As far as other intimidating opponents in B Block, look no further than Maki. She’s struck me down with that Makihouse Kick finisher of hers more than she can count over at Yamashi Pro. I know how she operates, but I’ve taken her down a fair share of times too. We’ve never formally fought in a match yet, but when we do, I’ll break out the ol’ Casshouse Kick again to show her I ain’t lying down again!
She shouts and then sips her water to moisturize her throat.
Cass Baumer: I don’t know much about Remi Fontaine, but I know he’s on a quest for redemption too. He’s come back to HYBRID only recently too, yeah? I ain’t underestimating him. I’m still watching tapes, and he’s got about as much chance as anyone else, but his lack of NFW knowledge is really gonna be a hindrance. He doesn’t know an Angel Kash from an Anton Crowley, which will lower his chances for sure. As Angel Kash is concerned, I’ll be happy to jam that silver spoon down her throat and knock her out with a Fact Check. And Anton Crowley could bring his entire House to ringside for all I care; I’d love to finally mix it up with him! As far as the Underground Queen is concerned, Sela Rica-Lark’s own unique take on violence — #Playtime — has ever so slowly gained renown. I think she might be a sleeper pick to win the whole tournament, especially with former world champ Matt Shields’ knowledge in her pocket, but there’s a reason she’s a sleeper pick and not the odds-on favourite, y’hear me?
Cass glances at the American Sign Language interpreter and then refocuses on the small crowd. Then she takes another gulp of the clear liquid.
Cass Baumer: Wait! What was that? Did I hear something?!
Baumer acts badly for the sake of a bit, gesturing wildly and cupping her ear to hear what she claims she did.
Cass Baumer: Folks are screaming, out of control! It was so entertaining when the boogie started to explode!
Yes. She does sing the words. It’s terrible, off-pitch, and intended to be hilarious.
Cass Baumer: I heard somebody say… Burn baby burn! Disco Inferno! Burn baby burn! Burn that mother down! Burn baby burn! Disco Inferno! Satisfaction came in a chain reaction! I couldn't get enough! So I had to self-destruct! The heat was on, rising to the top! Everybody is going strong! And that is when my spark got hot!!
Eyes were rolled. Cass dances at the podium, attempting to dance to the disco music she sang. A few generous souls in the audience joined in on singing the song.
Cass Baumer: I hope Debby Haze liked that! She’s a good friend of mine, and I’m happy we’ll finally get the chance to fight, but she’s gotta know the heat’s on right now! It’s rising to the top! Everybody in the tournament is goin’ strong, and that’s when my spark gets hot! Can you take the fire, Debby? We’ll see!
Now she pauses for what felt like an extended amount of time, tapping her fingers rhythmically on the podium to give the impression that she’s bored with her other hand lazily cupping her cheek.
Alex Ripley: Aren’t you forgetting Emevlas Stastias?
Cass Baumer: Yes. Next question, please! Somebody else! How about… Winchester! WrestleRealm! You’ve got a question?
Notably, Cass knew all of the reporters she called upon by name thus far. She prepared for this.
Drew Winchester: What about A Block? Do you have any predictions?
Cass Baumer: As much as I love him as a person, I think last year’s winner Griffin Hawkins loses the chance to be in the finals fairly quickly in a shocking development ‘cause A Block is pretty damn stacked. He’s already a World Champion elsewhere, so I don’t know if he’s got the same drive as he did this time last year in the second-annual Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament. I bet Jansen Myrrh and Damon Cross do really impressive, but both come just short of the records they’ve got to achieve to enter the finals. Lluvia Cane struggles without a tag team partner. Moe’s not there to help her here. Ronnie North does some fun things that make me laugh, but his chances don’t really amount to much. And at the end of it all, the semifinals will be the long-awaited Graham Baker versus Super Tiger III to decide the winner of A Block. The winner goes on to face the winner of B Block — preferably me.
Drew Winchester: Who do you think would win that bout? Between Super Tiger and Graham Baker, I mean.
Cass Baumer: I don’t know. I really have no idea… We’ve seen them both get the better of each other for the Victory Pro #ICW WHC. It might go either way, but if I could be biased with this prediction, I’d want Super Tiger to win. I’ve made no secret that Baker pisses me off! He’d deserve the loss, and I firmly believe Risa represents everything Vlad Blackheart would be proud to see. I strive to be more like her in a lot of ways, actually. I know that ain’t something I oughta say in a press conference where we’re all meant to insult each other, but it’s true. NFW would be lucky to have her as the one holding the third-annual Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament trophy, but I’m still gonna do the best I can.
Baumer takes a deep breath and looks out into the audience once again. That’s when her eyes start to twinkle at the sight of a familiar face she hasn’t seen in years.
Reporter: Avery James, Willington Post! I have a question!
The attractive platinum blonde woman smiles comfortingly towards her former co-worker. Cass sheepishly smiles back, astounded to see her here of all places.
Cass Baumer: I— Avery! I missed you! What’s— What are you doing here?!
Avery James: I’m a reporter, silly! Remember? We used to work together.
Cass Baumer: I know that! I meant—
Avery’s beautiful voice is accented with a thicker dialect than how Cass speaks, presumably since she just got here from New Zealand, and Cass hasn’t been in the country long-term since she worked at the Wellington Report.
Avery James: You’re too hard on yourself, Cassandra. I think you’re doing a great job! You’re obviously trying. You just have to keep pushing on, and everything will feel more natural with time.
Cass Baumer: Thanks. So much. But I… We’ll talk after this ends, I promise.
The kind of genuine gleeful smile that attempts to crack her face hadn’t shown itself in months, but she fights back against it in the nature of feigned professionalism.
Cass Baumer: Do you have a question? We’re on the clock.
Avery checks her notepad.
Avery James: After everything you’ve said tonight about how you’re not after attention and how Risa represents everything Vlad Blackheart stood for… Do you deserve to win the third-annual Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament and hold the NFW World Heavyweight Championship?
Cass freezes. She’s speechless for a long time, slowly trying to collect her thoughts after the question caught her for a loop. The New Zealand flag looks back at her, and so does the sign language interpreter. Her water bottle is almost empty, and the crowd continues to take snapshots of her stunned silence. After a deep breath, Baumer finally opens her mouth.
Cass Baumer: People love to insult me ‘cause DTW Death Dojo refers to me as a student. I train with new Trauma signee FM Young when I’m not in Japan, too. If I think about it for too long, it’s humiliating. I still have to do ringside duties in Yamashi Pro, giving out popcorn and building the ring each episode I don’t have a match. But at the same time, it shows my commitment to this sport I fell in love with! It shows I’m willing to put in the work while others stay complacent! It shows I’m not afraid to be embarrassed if that’s what it takes to get better! So you’re damn right I’m NFW World Heavyweight Champion material!!!
Baumer folds her hands and interlaces her digits as her hands rest on the podium.
Cass Baumer: I might not be perfect. I might make mistakes, but NFW truly matters to me! All that I want is to make Vlad happy up there while he’s watching this tournament right beside John in Heaven. Both of ‘em will be proud of me when that tournament’s through! I’ll be the one who’s earned the right to carry two massive trophies everywhere I go while the NFW World Heavyweight Championship is wrapped around my waist! I’ll be the one who rose to the top even if it kills me with hard work, prayer, and a dash of luck!!
She pauses after the emotional display, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Cass Baumer: Brody said it himself in 2018. It’s a ‘true test of skill and endurance.’ Do I have what it takes to succeed? I don’t know, but I’m gonna fight like hell ‘til we find out!!!
Super Tiger
The crowd quiets down as the next entrant is announced, and the Super Tiger stands from her chair. The crowd claps politely as the diminutive dynamo makes her way to the podium. She takes her place, but it is quite obvious that the podium is much too tall for her! Luckily, she came prepared! She returns to her seat, and quickly returns to the podium, unfolding her Hello Kitty step stool and climbing up onto it to come level with the microphone.Super Tiger: Hello, and good afternoon. As you all know, my name is Risa Saito Jackson. More commonly known as the Super Tiger. As you all know, and the reason we are here is because I have entered my name into this year's Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament.
Risa clears her throat, looking out over the reporters in attendance, her eyes wide with pride. She smiles, and nods, before clearing her throat and continuing.
Super Tiger: Many people in this business do not believe that I have what it takes to become the NFW World Undisputed Champion. Many think I am too small. That I am not strong enough. That I do not have the mental fortitude to lead the Trauma brand from the top of the mountain.
Super Tiger adjusts her mask before adjusting her hair as well. She straightens her dress, and adjusts the paperwork on the podium before her.
Super Tiger: To those people, I have one thing to say. At 19 years old, I became the ICW World Heavyweight Champion. I have only been in the United States since October. Since then, I have held the NFW Tag Team Championship, the aforementioned ICW World Heavyweight Champion, the Luchacore Championship, and the WWR World Tag Team Championship. I have done in that short time what many have failed to do in a much longer career.
Risa Saito Jackson looks out over the people assembled before her. She’s got a fire in her eyes as a grin slowly crawls across her face. She reaches forward, gripping the front of the podium as she leans forward.
Super Tiger: I am going to prove to everyone in this room…
Super Tiger shakes her head, slapping both hands down on the top of the podium.
Super Tiger: Risa Saito Jackson can be the NFW World Undisputed Champion! The Super Tiger has what it takes to lead NFW into the future! Lucharesu is just as good as American professional wrestling! My hybrid style of lucha libre and Strong Style striking is very good! My speed in NFW is absolutely unmatched!
Super Tiger holds her arms out, her grin even wider as she looks out over the crowd.
Super Tiger: Why do I think I deserve to be here? I think I’ve made my point. I have worn multiple championships across multiple different brands. I am one of the most popular wrestlers out here. I have been training to do this since before I could walk. I earned my Tiger mask at thirteen. One of the greatest honors a joshi like myself can earn in her career.
Super Tiger takes off her mask, and sets it down on the podium, the bright enthusiastic face of Risa Saito Jackson staring into the cameras. She straightens her hair, shaking her head and then grinning again.
Super Tiger: At this tournament, I’m going to be stepping into the ring with the best that NFW has to offer. Not only am I going to stand across the ring from them, I’m going to defeat them! In honorable combat, I will climb the ranks of this tournament. Continuing to grow, continuing to evolve, continuing to win!
Super Tiger pulls her mask back on, buttoning it up under her chin.
Super Tiger: I am going to be your next NFW World Undisputed Champion! No matter who I stand against in that ring! And once I have won this tournament, I will go forward to claim the title I have been working toward ever since I joined this company. The future of NFW is bright! The future of NFW is standing right here before you!
The little luchadora jumps up onto the podium, her feet on the hand rails as she looks out over those gathered before her and strikes her signature pose, one hand pointed to the ceiling, a peace sign made by the other hand next to her face.
Super Tiger: Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament 3! SUPER TIGER RESU GO!!!
The diminutive dynamo hops off the podium, turning back to those in attendance, and bows respectfully to the reporters before her.
Super Tiger: Thank you very much for your time. Have a wonderful afternoon.
Sela-Rica Lark
After Sela is announced as the next speaker, she stands wearing a very beautiful dress of a sparkling red. She approaches the podium and is soon joined by Matt Shields, who stands behind her. Matt actually looks rather professional with his hair pulled back into a ponytail and wearing a nice suit though he still carries his kendo stick. The normally quite hardcore duo seem almost respectable by all accounts just observing them now. Sela though still wears that sadistic smile she's known for.Sela-Rica Lark: What you have heard so far is but drivel. Honestly, there are fights that are being carried over from the regular shows. There's been last minute surpruses of sorts. All of it leading to one simple fact: not any one of these individuals looks at this stage and say to themselves, "I hope I fight the Underground Queen herself."
Sela's grin broadens as Matt nods behind her.
Sela-Rica Lark: Let's speak very plainly: no one up here matches my viciousness and ferocity and unpredictability in the ring. Some are better at one or two of those, but never has someone beaten me with all three. I look up here and all I see is more blood to spill. My own, my opponent, does it honestly matter? Pain is something everyone needs to get used to after all. And I don't see any of my opponents truly acknowledging that little fact, that facing me in an all out brawl will be pain that even painkillers will not dull. No, no one wants to fight me, they want to survive me.
Sela looks across the table with a smirk. She looks back at Matt and whispers something off mic which he nods along to.
Sela-Rica Lark: And even knowing that, even knowing that, every last one of these people know they have to fight me in order to survive at all. But that's not an issue for here, that will be settled in my playground. Tonight, I address the audience who will be watching and give my words about each opponent or potential opponent I will be facing. You see it's been decided that I am to be part of B block. Not that it matters, we all have our positions, but in this case it puts 9 others in specific harm while 10 others have to fight to see who just might be facing me.
Sela holds up her hand.
Sela-Rica Lark: Four weeks, pain, brutality, absolute carnage is what's to be wreaked. And who gets to feel my wrath first? Let's go over that list shall we?
Sela looks down the table. She pulls the mic from its stand. Sela looks down the row with everyone looking back at her until she walks over and gets on the table with the rest of her fellow Trauma members but she addresses her B block opponents. She points one by one.
Sela-Rica Lark: Minoru, it's all fun and games for you isn't it? Just another big laugh to have at the end of the day. Except I do laugh louder and my laugh has made better men than you back into a corner. Should you think of trying to play against me though, you're going to have to party from your hospital room. Maki, possibly the only person I respect in this tournament. But we both know respect isn't enough to stop us from getting our hands on the gold. One of us will have to quite literally rip the other apart. I look forward to that ecstatically.
Sela starts to sway on the table as she continues.
Sela-Rica Lark: Remi. Welcome to the club indeed. Shall we dispense with the rest of the pleasantries and just cut to it though: will it be a slow bleed or a massive gut for you? You will have your worst time when I step into that ring, I promise you that. Angel, the Trillionaire. I suppose you expect your money to buy you out for this tournament like you do with everything else in your life. But your money is tainted and once I'm through with you it will be stained. Stained with your blood or your botox, whichever your body holds more of now.
Sela gets a little more giddy as she kneels down on the table as she continues.
Sela-Rica Lark: Morgan, Morgan, Morgan. You and your Kingdom buddies love to be dominant over on your piece of the playground, but you are stepping into mine now. My kingdom. My domain. The Underground Queen reigns in that ring and you will bow to me before I end your hopes here. Anton, oh Prince of Darkness, you must feel so proud of your "Lady". Too bad she isn't the one fighting your battles, since you seemed okay to fight someone else's battles for them before. Then again, seeing her in action against you, it's clear who truly wears the strap-on in that relationship. And Cass, the once reporter turned fighter. Here's a breaking story: your bones, your organs and your spirit. All things that will be left to crumble apart after I'm through with you. You know I'm forbidden from putting such measures on the interviewers for the show so you're going to have to substitute for every time I thought about making them scream.
Sela is finally laying on her belly and rolling on the table, still addressing the last two.
Sela-Rica Lark: Emevlas, the last minute addition. The would be badass who never stays in one place long. Let me guess, I'm boring you at this point. Pfeh, boring would only be the beginning of your troubles. When you get in that ring with me, it will be anything but borong. It will, however, be excruciatingly painful. And Debby, well, there's not much to say with you Debby. You got here on a stroke of luck. You'll leave here with the stroke of my hand against you. Make no mistake, you are here because you saw opportunity, not because you've impressed anyone. And your opportunity will end with me.
Sela licks her lips and smirks a bit as she slides off the table. Her head slowly turns to the table with Collision, but addresses the A block members. She similarly slowly turns and walks in their direction addressing them.
Sela-Rica Lark: And I've forgotten none of you. What you see now is the face I want you to see. Watch each of my matches as they happen though. Do whatever you think you all need to do to prepare. Lluvia, you can talk with Morgan after I send her back to you and see if that helps. Griffin, you won last year, but when we last met, it was you who had to leave defeated. Damon, we never had the pleasure to cross paths before. You may regret stepping into mine. Ronnie, your charms are that of oil in the ocean, filthy and unwanted and cannot wash away. Graham, you also just lost where I did as well, against Adrianna, so look at that, you get to claim to be on even ground with me. Super Tiger, breaking away from the tag scene for now, but you're going to wish you hadn't. Jansen, you've not truly experienced what being a villain means and you won't like where it leads. Runa, you know anatomy: how much pressure will your body take before I snap it in half? Jenn, you step into my playground with me, you won't be stepping anywhere after that. And Layla, just remember: it's only going to get worse if you keep it going.
Sela stares down the entirety of A block before she begins to giggle. Matt has a large grin on his face after her words. Returning the mic to its stand she looks out over the assembled reporters.
Sela-Rica Lark: I'm feeling generous enough to take a few questions.
A few hands fly up and Sela points to one reporter.
Reporter: Ms. Lark, is there anyone up there specifically you would prefer to face in the finals?
Sela-Rica Lark: Hehe, well I suppose I do have enough sportsmanship to make someone feel special enough to face me. Since it must be someone from A block let's say that I hope for either Damon Cross or Lluvia Cane, the only two who could make playtime worth it for the finals after all.
Sela points to a second reporter.
Reporter: Sela, you're speaking eight now as if you've already won. Don't you feel that's arrogantly presumptuous?
Matt steps forward pointing his kendo stick at the reporter.
Matt: Hey, you will talk respectfully when addressing my Queen!
Before Matt can continue though, Sela calmly places a hand on his stick and lowers it. She grabs him into a kiss for a moment and sends him back which he does still eyeballing the reporter.
Sela-Rica Lark: My King's outburst aside, in my mind I have already beaten every opponent here in ten thousand different ways. It is the only option available after all. To address any other possibility, is to accept defeat as an inevitability. That simply is not the case.
Sela points again to a third reporter.
Reporter: Sela, do you look at this as a career defining type match? Regardless of any outcome, how do you think this will do for your career or are you just here for the carnage?
Sela-Rica Lark: Heh, why can't I do both? To be in any kind of ranking here obviously can only push me into more and better things, but there's no reason I can't enjoy the trip the entire way to the end. But as I just said, the outcome is already clear. And I will be standing victorious at the end of it all. Last question.
Reporter: Related to the first question, Ms. Lark, what about a champion you'd prefer to face?
Sela-Rica Lark: Ah yes, such a choice between the Marine fairy and the blonde bimbo who has much to answer to me for still. Both I would love to make bleed. But let's not kid anyone. There's a lot of time between this tournament and WrestleWar where that choice comes to fruition. What belt would I want would obviously be more appropriate. Hm, that's simple, the one that would look best on my throne. Long live the Underground Queen.
Matt gives her a round of applause which is half-heartedly joined by the assembled reporters as Sela returns to take her seat.
Lluvia Cane
Lluvia Cane had quietly been listening to each of the individuals as they all took their turns getting up to speak. Being one of the last ones to speak hadn’t bothered her at all as it gave her more time to compose her thoughts. She had politely, and lightly, clapped for each of her co-workers as they finished speaking, maintaining her image of being pleasant with them no matter their views on one another. As Sela Rika-Larc finished, the dark haired woman took a sip of water from a small bottle that she then clapped for the other woman after she was done. When Sela began walking back to her, Lluvia gently pushed her chair back a bit, getting out of it upon doing so. As she made her way to the podium, she adjusted the mid-thigh, dark red, halter dress that she was wearing along with a pair of her jet black, knee high, thin heeled boots. The Cherokee woman lightly cleared her throat before she began to speak.Lluvia Cane: Last year, I took part in the 2nd annual Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament, and while I didn’t win it, I was able to earn myself some points anyway. When the sign-ups were opened for the tournament this year, I jumped at the chance of being in this again as I wanted a fair chance this year. But I also wanted a chance to fully and proudly represent Vlad Blackheart...I didn’t know him, but I know what he meant to Morgan, and I wanted to do right by both of them as well as myself.
Lluvia paused for a moment to look over at Morgan, a light smile on the Cherokee woman’s face. She held the pause even after looking away from her love’s face. She took a sip of water again, setting the water down in front of her when she was finished. The dark haired beauty brushed a few strands of hair away from her face and looked towards the press as she began to speak again.
Lluvia Cane: I know that some of my co-workers have gone both routes of taking questions as well as not taking questions from all of you...whether I do or not will depend on the timing of everything as I don’t want to take up too much time. However, I’ll begin with what I have floating around in my mind. This is not the first tournament of any kind that I’ve participated in, and I’m sure it won’t be my last in the long run of it all. Now then...I had various reasons for signing up for the tournament this year, despite only doing so well in last year’s tournament. With The Queen’s Guard taking off and gaining the momentum that we have, I could have simply remained focused on the tag team championship scene, but I wanted to do more, to be more. I’m not here to try and impress anyone, to try to prove that I’m something or someone that I’m not.
Lluvia paused for a moment, looking around at the faces of management as well as her fellow wrestlers. Her gaze then turned towards the media and fans that were in the crowd, a light laugh escaping through her lips when she saw a few signs being held up by the fans. The dark haired beauty knew that some of the fans would have signs since, at least in her mind, that made the most sense to her with them being a part of the crowd. A grin grew on her face when she saw signs saying “Behold The Kingdom”, “The Queen’s Guard Can Guard Me Anytime”, and “Hey Lil Mama!” Lluvia could be seen, and somewhat heard, calling out to Morgan Payne to point the Lil Mama sign out to her, a little laugh coming from the Cherokee woman’s mouth. Morgan leaned forward so she could be seen easier, and she shot a grin towards Lluvia before whistling at the woman, the grin still on her face. A hint of color could be seen rising over Lluvia’s cheeks upon hearing the whistle.
Lluvia Cane: Well, I guess I should have expected that reaction, huh? I would imagine that sign is there because of Morg...but Hell, I don’t mind one bit at all. You know, I could comment on each and every individual person that’s signed up to be in the tournament, but if I did that then we’d all be here forever. Despite the fact that some of my colleagues did just that, and I’m not knocking them for it by any means at all, I doubt that many people want to listen to someone doing all of that all over again, hitting the same points that others have already punched a hole in. Everyone sitting at these 4 tables has some kind of credit to their name in one way or another whether it be from having a title, being in a title match recently, being a generational wrestler like myself, or any other thing that one could think of to describe the participants.
Lluvia gave a slight pause, her look being one of respect for her fellow wrestlers. It had been one of the first lessons ever instilled in her when it came to being a part of the business...have and show respect until someone proves to you that they don’t deserve it and then just lay into them. However, when it came to those sitting at the tables, the Texas native had no reason to do any of that. Well unless one wanted to count Cass Baumer getting involved with the mess with Morgan and Jasmine, but Lluvia wasn’t going to deal with any of that during the press conference since it had nothing to do with it.
Lluvia Cane: Right now, the easiest thing for me to do would be to go on a rant about how I’m so much greater than these 19 other men and women, but unless it’s a situation where I’m essentially 100% sure that would be correct, that’s just not my style. I tried being that person years ago, but I soon found that being that person wasn’t who I was meant to be. The person I’m meant to be, in and out of the ring, is a deeply caring and loyal mother, daughter, sister, friend, and lover. Day in and day out, it has been shown to me that to be true to myself, I’m meant to be a dedicated, hard worker who will always give her all without intentionally putting someone in serious jeopardy, match type depending of course. An ass kicking yet gentle and loving wrestler seems like a bit of an oxymoron though, doesn’t it? How can you be a serious wrestler that has no issues beating someone down in a match or backstage, if they deserve it, but also be gentle and loving? Well...it’s easy when you have everything you could ever want in life. Happy and loving children, a close family, loving significant others, and ones that love your children as if they were their own because in a way, they are now. I have all of this and wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Lluvia’s voice wavered for a moment at the end, causing her to stop talking and take a moment for herself. She grasped her water again, taking another sip out of it before placing it down, letting out a small sigh in the process. The dark haired beauty looked around at all of the faces before her, watching the reporters take notes or pause whatever they were using to record her then expanding her gaze to the fans who were talking amongst themselves, watching her, taking pictures, and waving their signs around. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing a gentle breeze to wash over her, gently blowing her hair though not enough to make it be a nuisance to her. When she re-opened them, a new and stronger look of determination was shining across her face, a new fire ignited in her eyes.
Lluvia Cane: Nothing in life prepares you for the ups and downs you are dealt as you go about your life’s journey. Nothing prepares you to lose a friend, to lose a loved one in such a way that brings memorial tournaments to fruition. No amount of training can fully prepare you for a tournament like this...a tournament where you face the likes of Super Tiger, Sela Rica-Lark, Griffin Hawkins, or Maki...all champions in their career at some point or another, in and out of NFW. Nothing can get you 100% prepared to go against names that have been in high profile matches such as Anton Crowley, Graham Baker, and Cass Baumer. Those 7 names alone have been respected, have headlined shows in more than just NFW, and those 7 women and men are part of the reason that NFW is as great as it is. Now don’t get my words twisted, all 20 of us competing in the tournament this year are amazing and talented in the ring on our own right. Examples needed to be used hence those 7 names, but here’s a little tip for everyone. Never. Count. Out. A. Generational. Wrestler. We have something all our own, a uniqueness that can’t quite be matched or out done. For example, Morgan and I are both generational wrestlers, but we have that specialness from training with the ‘older’ generation while also training with the ‘new/current’ generation. While I said I may take questions, I’m sorry but that won’t be happening as I’ve taken up enough time.
Emevlas Stastias
There's a heavy sigh that greets us as we see an older brunette who has a completely dead look in her brown eyes as she stares off into nothing.Brunette Woman: "Retirement was finally supposed to stick for once, you know? I was supposed to be the happiest I'd been since I won the Rose City Wrestling tag titles when I turned 40, because I was married and we were in line to adopt a kid."
The woman, revealing herself as Emevlas Stastias by her voice and backstory, shakes her head with a snarky chuckle.
Emevlas Stastias: "Lookit--Look at where all that fuckin' got me! They may as well have thrown me into Lake Michigan and let me drown. That'd make retirement stick, but nooooooo. No, now I have to pay rent on my own god damn land."
Another heavy sigh as Mevy brushes her hair away, which has obviously been growing out for a while.
Emevlas Stastias: "That sucks, because there's a galaxy-wide pandemic out there taking away everyone's money. Especially mine. It's also preventing people from breathing, let alone renting any apartments in the dying hotbed of disease known as Joliet, Illinois. Which, until this year started, was a way for me to be set for life. I may as well own half that town, and when the town's economy's in the shitter, so is my bank account."
Stastias inhales through her nose with a scowl, as if she's smelled rotting trash on the side of the street.
Emevlas Stastias: "So given I have nothing else I can do, I have to turn to the one place that's given me anything with no questions asked: that stupid piece of shit wrestling ring that I've now twice sworn I'd never go back to before going back to it nearly a year later. Brett Favre, eat your fuckin' heart out."
Mevy clasps her hands together, rubbing them together as if to get ready.
Emevlas Stastias: "Aight, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Sela Rica-Lark first. Because we used to date. We fucked each other's brains out. Then, like a stupid little bitch, I disappeared. I was gone for a bit, not gonna lie. You know, like this past month except I didn't start having money issues in that absence, and there wasn't a universe-wide pandemic yet. But she's found someone else, and far be it for me to break up a romantic triptych. Meanwhile, I'm single and rotting away doing nothing at 40. But she fucking knows, better than anyone else in this tournament, how hard I can go if given the right motivation. And BOY HOWDY, I reek of motivation, just like I piss excellence."
She takes a breath, locking eyes with a lot of the crowd in the process.
Emevlas Stastias: "Speaking of pissing excellence, Griffin Hawkins was everyone's boogeyman in EWC. I should know, he was responsible for my last match there. I want to get that one back. Uhh, I remember Cass Baumer, too. I notice she's not a reporter anymore, so hey, that's a thing. As for all these other people? I have no clue who they are, and of all the things I say, that isn't an insult. Shocking, I know. Like, I don't know what an Anton Crowley is, or what a Layla Diaz consists of. I know saying that is a cliche-as-fuck insult in any other context, but I've also not followed anything really wrestling-related since the end of 2019. AGAIN, I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE RETIRED. But, hey. I'll give this the old DePaul try. One for the money, as the saying goes."
Stastias sits down as she says her last piece, leaning back in her chair and propping her feet up.
Jenn Drew
As soon as the previous person finishes their comments, the press look around and wait for the next person to stand up and move to the center of the talent all gathered up on the stage. After a few moments, a blonde haired woman who looks fairly short, but has on a regal black dress and matching heels with her hair up in a nice bun walks up to the podium and removes the black mask she was sporting and sets it down on the podium and looks out at the reporters and then around at the talent around her and nods her head with a smile on her face before adjusting the microphone to her level.Woman: So, this is the batch of competitors that I get to share the ring with for the third annual Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament, huh? We do have some great talent out there, let me tell you what! It’s going to be so much fun to step into the ring with some of these people and show them that I’m just as good as I ever was.
She once again nods and chuckles as she scopes out all the competitors sitting around her once again before going back to speaking.
Woman: Oh, pardon me, but maybe some of you here have never heard of me or seen my body of work. Allow me to introduce myself to all of you. You’re standing in the presence of “The Rebel Queen” Jennifer Drew. I’ve won gold everywhere that I’ve been and I make a splash anywhere I decide to show up. This year at the tournament is going to be no different. Steven Brody reached out to me and asked if I was interested in possibly being an outside guest to the tournament if there was an available spot and I couldn’t pass on the chance. I waited for the phone call and a few weeks ago, it came and I was going to be a late replacement for somebody and I was ready. I’ve been watching New Frontier, I have a friend or two here and a sexy little Brit back at the hotel waiting for me to return that used to wrestle here and held the Tag Titles. Enough about me though, you’re here for the trash talking and the hype for the tournament, right? Well, I guess I should get started on that, huh?
Jenn chuckles as she turns her focus onto the competitors in her block and begins looking them up and down with a grin on her face as she first looks at Graham Baker.
Jenn Drew: Graham Baker, certified asshat. Look, I know you’re some smug, overzealous, overly cocky man. And, don’t get me wrong, your accolades speak for themselves, but the way you’ve been acting lately, it tells me you might be compensating for something over there, huh buddy?
Jenn lifts up her left hand and places her index finger and thumb about an inch apart and looks at Graham.
Jenn Drew: Maybe a little size problem and you’re getting laughed at by the ladies and it’s shot your self esteem down so you have to try and drag everyone else down with you? Look, I’m not judging you, as some say, it’s not about the size of the boat, it’s all about the motion in the ocean, but they’re totally lying, it’s all about the size and I think you’re lacking big time.
Jenn then turns her focus to Damon Cross and gives him a nod of respect in some aspect.
Jenn Drew: Damon Cross, somebody still fairly new to New Frontier and someone who doesn’t back down from a fight. That right there is a worthy thing to have. And you have demons you’re fighting. I can relate, dude. Look, we all have shit we’re dealing with and your not some special snowflake who is the only one out there trying to find some sort of redemption for yourself and the minute you realize that and the minute you realize that maybe, just maybe those demons your trying to put to bed could be the very things that take you to the very top in this company. On that day, you will be a true force in that ring, but for now, you’re just a shell of what you could possibly be and I’ll prove that to you when I face off with you.
Jenn then looks at four of the competitors, Jansen, Ronnie, Lluvia, and Layla and nods her head as she sizes them up one by one before continuing to talk.
Jenn Drew: Then there’s these four here, middle of the pack, not horrible, but definitely not great. I mean, for someone who hasn’t really been in the ring for almost two years, if I get any of you early on in the tournament, I’m sure you’ll give me a nice little challenge and warmup. Don’t get me wrong here, people, I think Jansen, Lluvia, Ronnie, and Layla will have respectable showings in the tournament, but they won’t be near the top, they’ll be middle of the road like they have been the entire time they’ve been here in NFW. And middle of the road isn’t bad, it’s not horrible at all, but if you want to win this tournament and the title shot that goes along with it, you have to be better than middle of the pack and we all know only the finest cream rises to the top and that’s where I step in and I’ll rise to the top and both Trauma’s and Collision’s top champion will have a target on their backs because I’m not on either brand and I can have my pick of the litter on which championship I want around this waist.
Jenn laughs as she looks down the line and spots Runa Olson sitting there in the line of people in her block.
Jenn Drew: Runa Olson, if you’re as good at being a doctor as you are being a wrestler, I’d probably find two new professions to pursue, I bet you’d make a great dancer for the guys and probably make way more money that way too with those nice little assets on your chest.
Jenn gives her a wink and laughs before finally looking down at the young, masked wrestler sitting there in the row in Super Tiger.
Jenn Drew: And then there’s sweet, pure, innocent little Super Tiger. The good girl among good girls in this company. The shining beacon for all little girls to look up to and to strive to be like. Good on you for never compromising who you are, but being nice in this industry only gets you so far. Yeah, you can do hardcore stuff and show off just how tough you are, but what’s toughness if you don’t have that killer instinct, huh? Tell me Super Tiger, could you honestly go for the kill on an opponent if there was the possibility they were injured and were too dumb to stop the match? Could you let go of your moral compass for just a moment and slit the throat, be an actual tiger and finish off your prey? I don’t think you have it in you to do such a thing and honestly, I think that’s why you failed to capture the Undisputed Championship at Sudden Death, you just aren’t mean enough to survive at the top, so go back to the tag team division where you thrive and can have someone do the dirty work for you and bring you up to success because in this tournament, you’ll realize being nice doesn’t always work out for you.
Jenn gives Super Tiger a wink before turning around and looking at the competitors in the other block for a moment and sizes them up.
Jenn Drew: As for the people in B Block, I don’t care which one of you comes out of it, honestly. Any one of you can win this block and it won’t matter because not only will I come out of A Block as the winner, but at the Finals Event, I’ll be walking out with trophy and the briefcase as the winner of the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament.
Jenn finally just shifts her focus to Morgan Payne and nods her head with a smile.
Jenn Drew: And Morgan, I’m rooting for you, girl.
Jenn places the microphone back in the stand and blows Morgan a kiss before she walks back over to her chair and sits down with her mask back up over her face.
Debby Haze
The time comes for Debby to take the podium. The Disco Diva, looks around hesitantly, but with a deep breath, steels here resolve. Debby makes her way up to the mic, taking a last glance back at her competition.Debby: NFW Universe, are you ready to get groovy!?
Deb flashes a smile, and holds a peace sign high up in the air. Her expression returns to normal, and she leans back toward the mic.
Debby: You guys in Block A. I feel bad for you, love ya Tiger Bitch.
Deb motions toward Super Tiger, giving her a quick round of applause. Distractions out of the way, she refocuses on the task at hand.
Debby: I won't lie, I'm nervous. I look at all this talent, and my god. You guys, you are some of the best here. My dance card is full, and I don't see one boogy on there, I'm not a bit nervous about. Graham Baker? Maki? Griffin freakin Hawkins? That's just three, but you get what I'm laying down. I'm not a spazoid, I'm not sleeping on anyone here.
Debby's eyes close for a moment, her mind running a million miles a minute. She wasn't lying, nerves were in full effect. Still, she was determined. She had to make an impression here, and she was going to do everything in her power to make it happen.
Debby: This right here. This is a first, I feel like I'm dancing on the big stage now. At the very least, I'm making my way there. I'm going to stumble, and I'm going to fall at times. I'm out of my element, but I'm staying alive. I may not win it all. I guarantee you this, though. I will survive. Ms. Saturday Night is ready, I'm rushing this thing head first, and I'm going to make a splash. Not sure, what else I can say, really. Other than than, I'll see you all down the road. When we meet up, be ready to dance. I'm coming prepared, and I'm not going down easy.
Debby smiles once more, and throws up a double peace sign. She takes a moment more, to soak up the atmosphere, and finally returns to her seat.
Conclusion
With that, Jessica Clarkson steps up to the podium again, smiling to the reporters and fans.Jessica Clarkson: Ladies and gentlemen, we thank you for attending our press conference for the annual Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament. We hope you look forward to this year’s event, right here at the Collision Center, Tuesday, September 1st! Have a lovely day and stay safe during these harsh times our country is going through.
The press conference comes to an end as the camera pans out with the shot fading to black….
