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2ND - PARAMOUNT #27 - SEASON FINALE
7TH - BRAWL #591 - SEASON FINALE
11TH - RAMPAGE #508 - SEASON FINALE
13TH - PRIME #103 - SEASON FINALE
17TH - NEXTGEN #05 - SEASON FINALE
21ST - [QUAD PPV] ONE NIGHT ENCOUNTER
27TH - UNCHAINED #05 - SEASON FINALE
16TH - 19TH [QUAD PPV] - WRESTLEFEST XX
[E15 comes out the 15th of every month and are based on seasons start till the end of the previous month]
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Swift Ion runs into the Arena, backstage, looking for the Entry way into where he goes out of the curtains. He finds it and runs towards the ring and grabs a ladder from under the ring amd tries to put it in the middle. Turns out to be that the ladder is to small. So he Sets the Ladder outside the ring, against the ropes and apron. He backs up onto the stage, and he runs down the ramp, and he runs off the ladder and grabs the title, landing in the middle of the ring. He then runs with the title out of the Arena.
Swift Ion: "Limo!!! Please stop!!!"
It turns out to be Jo-Jo Offerman.
Swift Ion: "Oh, hey baby. The name is Swift."
Jo-Jo: "The name's Jo-Jo. By the looks of it, it looks like your a champion. Am I correct?"
Swift Ion: "Yes you are beautiful. How about I take you out to dinner?"
Jo-Jo: "I will be delighted."
Jo-Jo turns to Swift Ion and kisses him on the cheek, as they go to a very expensive Restaurant.
As Swift Ion and Jo-Jo are siting at their table enjoying an expensive dinner, the bus boy comes along and begins to clean up the table. Suddenly the bus boy spills a bowl of soup all over Jo-Jo. She shrieks and gets up from the table. As she runs out of the building, Swift turns towards the bus boy. Before anything can happen, the bus boy lifts Swift into the air and sends him crashing through the table with a Dead Man's Drop. The bus boy removes his jacket to reveal Damon Cross standing over a prone Swift ion. An EWC working part time as a Matre'd at this particular restaurant is called over by Damon. Damon covers the still prone Ion and the referee counts.
Damon gets off the floor and grabs the 24 hour title. As he exits the restaurant, Jo-Jo Offerman notices him as the bus boy and begins to throw a fit. Damon begins t chuckle as he enters the Ford F-150 parked outside. As Jo-Jo approaches the truck, Percy the Penguin pops up from the seat and scares her off. Damon laughs as he puts the pedal to the metal and peels out of the parking spot. Damon drives towards the US/Canada border, but stops off in Niagara Falls (Canada side) and enjoys some exotic dancing courtesy of MINTS Gentleman's Club.
Jo-Jo runs inside to help Swift Ion up from the table that he was thrown into, and she wipes his face off. Ion stands up and looks at her and gives her a hug.
Ion: "I am so sorry. Jo-Jo, let me take you home and we can go out again, and not let this happen to you again. Can I have a second chance?"
Jo-Jo kisses Ion as he takes her home. Ion got a call from Mac saying to do some promotional work in Canada, close to the boarder. As Ion accepts the work, he picks up Jo-Jo and takes her with him. As he got off the plane, he asked where the best resort is to relax at. The pilot said Niagara Falls. As he and Jo-Jo stopped at a Hotel to unpack, they headed to Niagara Falls. When they got there, Jo-Jo pulled Ion to the side and said that's him. The guy that put you through the table.
Ion: "Stay here."
Ion walked over to the chair that Cross was sitting in, and sees the title next to him. Cross was talking to girls as Ion grabbed the title and starts to walk away.
As Ion stopped, he turned around facing Cross, and handed the title back to him. Ion turned around and stood there, and jumped backwards with a Pèle Kick to the head of Cross. Turned out to be, one of the girls Cross was talking to, was a women referee.
Referee: ...1... ...2... ...3...
The ref hands the title to Ion, as he and Jo-Jo head back to the Hotel.
My Original Character-Portrayed by; Robert J. Tevis
Signature specially Made For Me by Mike of another Efed
•All-Time Championship Accomplishments•
4x Championships Held
Later, the current holder of the Combat Title Swift Ion and Jo-Jo are in a posh hotel room. Swift is in the bathroom freshening up when their is a slight rap at the door that only Jo-Jo could hear. She opens the door and a bell hop enters. In his hand is a silver tray with a dome shaped lid. On his wrist is a black and white striped rubber wrist band.
Jo-Jo and the bellhop go to the bathroom door and she peeks in ...
"Mind if I join you?"
Swift's responsible is inaudible but most likely agreeable. Jo-Jo lifts up the lid and retrieves a black jack and sneaks up behind the unsuspecting Swift ... and smacks him over the back of the head with the black jack!
Swift's body slumps over and hits the toilet before he is on his back on the bathroom floor. Jo-Jo covers him and the bellhop immediately counts the three count!
Jo-Jo grabs the title and then looks down at the would be lover and laughs...her voice suddenly goes deep and she rips and tears at the amazing mask and hair and the body suit and reveals himself to be none other than WWF SUPERSTAR VIRGIL!!!
Virgil: It's mine again!!!
Virgil runs out of the hotel room in the shredded remnants of his disguise.
Scott Wilson is just causally lounging in the lobby, waiting for his room key. Suddenly, he hears a commotion in the staircase. He turns to see some weird fuck with the EWC combat title. Scott walks over to the crazy man. He lifts him high into the air and slams him through the small coffee table. A referee who works part time at the hotel counts the pin.
Scott grabs the title and exits the hotel. He takes a cab to the nearest airport and boards the next flight to New York.
Post by Oliver Bailey on Aug 4, 2013 19:15:10 GMT -6
Scott Wilson is sitting in his seat of the air craft when all of a sudden the fasten seat belt sign comes on and as every air passenger does he put his seat belt on. Then the *DING* And a voice is heard over the loud speaker.
"Ladies and Gentlemen please keep all arms legs and heads within the area as your seat as we have a special guest on board."
Then the Bailey pops out from the overhead compartment and does a mini Swanton Bomb onto Scott and the ref comes running out from the back wearing a striped female flight attendant uniform. He counts.
Bailey picks himself up. Brushes himself off, puts on his aviators and walks to the cockpit.
While Bailey was walking towards the cockpit, Ion and Jo-Jo where in First Class. As Baily was walking, he was tripped by Ion. Ion got up and he put Bailey in a STF. Bailey was trying to escape the lock, but Ion told Jo-Jo to get the co-pilot. The co-pilot came out and asked Bailey to tap, and Bailey tapped. Ion grabbed the title and sat back down on the plane with Jo-Jo.
Ion and Jo-Jo arrived in New York in about an Hour later, when they got off the plane, they took a cab to a Nissan Dealership. When he got there, Ion asked for a Silver Nissan GTR '13. He bought the car, and the Car Dealership Manager said he will be back to finish the transaction.
As Swift turned to leave the dealership, Scott came out of nowhere and kicked Swift in the gut. Scott hits a vertical suplex on Ion. He doesn't release it. He hits the 2nd vertical suplex. He hits a brainbuster for the 3rd, hitting the Triple Six. The a referee came driving by in a stationwagon. He hops out and makes the pin.
Scott takes the title and hops in Swift's car and drives off.
Post by Elijah Cross on Aug 4, 2013 22:48:55 GMT -6
After an hour of driving, Scott stops at a local gas station to refill his tank. After paying the cashier, Scott looks around, making certain that no one will blindside him. Content, Scott begins pumping gas, whistling all the while. As he finishes, Mike Corral walks out of the gas station, immediately noticing the title in the front seat of the car. Mike's eyes go wide before rushing towards the car, narrowly missing a lariat as Scott ducks underneath. Corral turns back, only to catch a punch before Scott begins to fire off several punches, looking to fend off an intruder. Scott tries for the Triple Six, only for Corral to fight his way out, connecting with several knees to the gut before pushing Scott into the car. As Scott recovers, Corral rushes forward, connecting with Death Is Welcome, knocking Scott's head into the car. Scott slumps to the ground as Corral calls the cashier over, tossing him a ref's shirt. The cashier puts the shirt on as Corral makes the cover.
1... 2... 3...!
Corral takes the keys out of Scott's pocket and hops into the car, driving off.
EwC United States Champion (1x) EwC Tag Team Champion (1x with Jamal Jackson as Team Co-Jack) EwC 24-Hour Combat Champ (May '08) EwC Veteran
As Mike Corral is driving down the road, his car hits a bump and than suddenly he begins to lose control. Mike regains control of the vehicle in proper time and pulls off to the side of the road. As he gets out to inspect the vehicle, he notices that he has run over a spike strip. As he stands there trying to figure out what happened, a clop of dirt hits him in the back o the head. As he turns around he is speared into the car and falls to the ground holding his ribs. Damon Cross makes it to his feet and stumbles for a moment. A huge dent in the driver's side is seen from where Damon and Mike hit the car. Damon covers Mike. An EWC official who is hitchhiking to the next show sees this and counts the pin...
Damon grabs the title and stands over Mike Corral.
"Sorry mike" Damon says. Damon hops on the back of a dirt bike and rides off towards Hoboken New, Jersey. As he arrives, he knocks over the workers of the television show Cake Boss. As the large Italians chase him down, Damon runs into an abandoned building and hides in the top floor...the shadows of the sun reflecting only slivers into the room.
Post by Oliver Bailey on Aug 5, 2013 16:10:08 GMT -6
Damon Cross is walking slowly around the top floor of the abandoned warehouse making sure not to make any noise. He then hears what could easily be pipes banging together, in a panic he starts shouting "Whose there?" Then the elevator bell rings and the door opens, there is Oliver Bailey fixing his tie. He then starts walking towards Damon Cross and once he is close enough he chucks his briefcase at Damon's face. Damon just barely catches it merely inches from his face and then Bailey punches it into Damon's face. Damon bends over and is now in prime position. Bailey locks him into a unprettier. Damons face bounces off the ground and then Bailey whistles, a man in a ref uniform pushing a broom comes out from a hallway pushing a broom. He drops to the ground and counts for Bailey.
1. 2.. 3...
Bailey gets up puts the belt in his breifcase and then proceeds to walk back towards the elevator. Once inside he fixes his tie again as he says.
As Oliver walks to the elevator, the door of the elevator opens and Oliver is hit with a brutal lariat by the one and only "HardKore Ikon" Charlie Feigel. Feigel stomps Oliver with ruthless aggression and pulls him up, a referee rushes over a bit out of breath, Feigel throws Oliver down inside the elevator and covers Oliver.
ONE! TWO! THREE!
Feigel hops up and grabs the briefcase and rushes out the door as three security guys rush up. Feigel stops and points to the referee and says: "It was him, swear he is a killer that one. Get him boys!" and Feigel power walks out of the building as the referee is being detained by security.
Feigel hops into a gold and black GTO and speeds off to parts unknown. The referee tries to escape but the security team shoves him towards several police officers responding to a 911 call.
As Charlie Feigel speeds off to the middle of nowhere, blue and red sirens come into his rear view mirror. Pulling off to the side of the road, Charlie puts the car in park and rolls down his window. A motorcycle police officer comes over and looks at him through his aviator sunglasses.
Police Officer: Out of the car please?
Charlie looks at the officer in confusion for a moment.
Police Officer: Out of the car...now sir.
Complying with the police officer, Charlie gets out of the car. As Charlie stands there face to face with the officer, Charlie has a confused look on his face. Suddenly the motorcycle police officer headbutts him and he stumbles back a few steps. The police officer grabs Charlie and powerbombs him on the hood of th car. He removes his helmet and Damon Cross is standing over a prone Charlie. Damon covers and the referee from the club (on the run from the police himself) stops briefly to count the three count.
As quickly as he was there, the referee disappears. Damon looks at Charlie for a moment. He drags the body off the hood and hog ties the unconscious man. He places a sign reading "FREE TO GOOD HOME" against Charlies chest and grabs the 24 hour combat title. Damon hops back on the bike and rides off towards his hometown of Philadelphia, Damon breaks into the Philadelphia Eagles stadium and locks himself in the Stadium police department jail cell.
Post by Bradley Fiennes on Aug 8, 2013 0:28:58 GMT -6
Philadelphia's a bit out of the way for Seventi on the road to Texas from Las Vegas, but he couldn't waste the opportunity to once again poke his head in where it wasn't wanted as far as the EWC was concerned.
After pulling up to the empty arena, Joe steps out of his taxi, dropping a wad of cash in the driver's lap before watching him drive off. His hands in his pockets, Joe shifts his right shoulder to more comfortably settle his backpack before walking over to the entrance. Seeing the locks pried off and the door ajar, Seventi gazes around to see if anyone is watching him,. Confident in being alone, he slips into the arena, only to dart for cover by a vending machine as a security guard flashes a torch in his direction.
A few moments pass and the guard shakes his head before moving on out of sight, muttering something about being underpaid. Seventi steps out from cover and wanders over to the doors to the field.
Locked shut. No one went through there.
Just then, a yell from down the hall where the security guard went is followed by sounds of heavy impact. Joe sprints over to the commotion, peering through decorative indoor bushes at the door to the police quarter of the arena.
There, EWC superstar Damon Cross stands over a bloodied security guard, a manic glare in Damon's eyes.
"Paranoia can make a man do strange things."
Damon hears this, and quickly assumes an offensive stance, still holding the police baton he used to fell security. Joe steps out from behind the bushes and drops his backpack, smiling at Damon and waving casually.
"Cross, isn't it? Seventi, nice to meet you."
Joe holds out his hand as he approaches Damon, but is met with animosity, as Damon swings the baton at Joe's head. Anticipating this, Joe drops to a knee, missing the baton's impact by a hair, and he counters with a hard uppercut to the underside of Damon's jaw, knocking him back, stunned.
"That wasn't polite..."
Damon shakes his head and then takes a vertical swipe at Joe, collecting him on the shoulder, aggravating Joe's recent gunshot wound and causing blood to surface through Joe's shirt. Gritting his teeth in pain, Joe looks to his wound, then back at Damon, who was unaware of Joe's condition, and takes a step toward him. Damon raises his baton again, and this time Joe stops, smiles, and turns his back, seemingly to leave.
Halting after just two steps, Joe turns back and pats Damon on the same side shoulder Joe was struck on.
"Dandy. Thank you for asking."
A minute passes as they chuckle and shake hands. Damon goes to pull his hand back, but Joe holds on. Damon panics and lifts the baton with his other hand, but Joe catches it by holding his free arm up and then dragging it down, pinning the weapon under his armpit.
Before Damon can adapt, Joe spins to the left, ripping the baton from Damon's grasp, and then he, holding onto Damon's hand, ducks low and drags Damon over his shoulders, flipping him onto his back. Cross is winded by the unexpected fall, but gathers his composure in time to consciously receive the underside of Joe's shoe to his face. Damon remains conscious, but grasps at his nose in pain.
Joe turns to the downed security guard and slaps him awake. The guard gets to his feet, shaken up, and then groggily removes his security jacket to reveal an EWC referee shirt!!!
Damon starts to get to his feet, stumbling, and then he pounces at Joe from behind. Seventi spins to his left, bringing his hand back to guide Damon by the back of his neck and using the momentum of Damon's attempt at running at Joe to lead Damon face first into the main body of a nearby vending machine. As sparks fly and beverages spill across the floor, Joe pulls the unconscious Damon Cross and his title belt strapped tightly around his waist from the vending machine wreck and lays him back first in a puddle of soda.
Joe clicks his fingers at the referee, and then points to Damon. The ref nods to indicate he is ready. Joe gets to one knee and places his hand on Damon's chest as the referee counts...
With a satisfied smile, Joe unclips the Combat title belt from Damon's waist and drapes it over his bleeding shoulder. He then turns to the referee and nods in approval. They both leave the stadium as sounds start to swirl and echo around them of other superstars coming to collect.
Jumping into a nearby parked car, the referee starts the car and drives off.
"Lets go to the airport. I need to get to Texas for the show."
Post by Elijah Cross on Aug 8, 2013 17:03:11 GMT -6
Airports are notorious for always being packed, and this was no different. Many airport workers were under stress due to the amount of travelers and tourists in the city of brotherly love, all trying to accommodate everyone.
Seventi's plane wouldn't begin boarding for another ten minutes, which he could live with. After all, the show was tomorrow, and he would have plenty of time to check in before the show. He relaxed as he held onto the Combat title, waiting for the signal to board.
Minutes fly by quickly in an airport when it's close to departure time. All too soon Seventi's number is called, bringing the man to his feet. As he begins to board, his eyes lock with Mike Corral, looking to depart as well. Their eyes locked only for a second, but both men knew what would happen. They could sense it. Corral rises slowly from his seat as Seventi slowly exhales, relaxing his muscles. Tightness wouldn't help him in this situation.
Both men stood face to face, sizing one another up. To an ordinary passenger, it might seem as though they were making idle chitchat. But to a trained observer, they could sense tension.
"No one else needs to get hurt. Just you and me here."
With a small, almost imperceptible nod, both men began to exchange fists, sending the rest of the passengers scurrying away. Both men hit hard and fast, but after an intense battle with Damon Cross earlier, Seventi began to feel the effects. Corral looked to push the advantage, only for Seventi to send him into a row of chairs. Looking to put down a challenger to his title, Seventi picked Corral up before slamming him down onto the floor with a scoop slam. As he did with Damon Cross, Seventi looked to connect with a kick, only for Corral to roll out of the way and yank his leg out from under him. Seventi collapsed onto the ground as Corral pounced, throwing wild strikes to try and keep him down for the count. Seventi recovers, tossing Corral off before getting to his feet as Corral does the same.
Corral moves forward, looking to connect with a roundhouse kick. Seventi ducks underneath and wraps his arms around Corral, sending him flying with a release German Suplex. Corral lands on his feet and rushes forward as Seventi starts to get up, connecting with Death is Welcome. Seventi falls to the floor as Corral looks around, only to spot an EWC ref paying for his ticket to leave for Texas. Corral calls the ref over and makes the cover as the ref counts.
Corral rolls off of Seventi and lets out a sigh, feeling the effects of battle. Corral pushes himself up to one knee before standing up, a smile on his face. Corral picks up the Combat title before turning to the ref.
"Make sure he's taken care of. He needs to be in Texas before tomorrow."
The ref nods as Corral turns to the flight attendant.
The flight attendant nods, incapable of speech after witnessing a rather shocking incident take place. Corral hands her his ticket over and boards the flight, ready to enter Texas for Rampage.
EwC United States Champion (1x) EwC Tag Team Champion (1x with Jamal Jackson as Team Co-Jack) EwC 24-Hour Combat Champ (May '08) EwC Veteran
Post by Bradley Fiennes on Aug 9, 2013 6:07:49 GMT -6
Nothing like a fight in the departure terminal to give federal authorities an excuse to actually arrest Joe for something. The plane he was due to catch was all ready to go, and then in a rather fortunate twist of fate, it was pulled back to the gate, Mike Corral a person of interest for the police.
Yet when the passengers were tallied, Mike was nowhere to be seen. Had he anticipated this and gotten onto another plane?
Well, in the post 9/11 world, fucking around in high security areas really only gets you so far. So Mike found himself back in the departure lounge walking hurriedly from the staff access area near the gate — his likely escape route. Joe, being counseled by a member of the TSA as he regains his wits, looks over and sees Mike Corral turning a corner, headed for the exit. Some words are exchanged between Joe and the TSA agent, and then Seventi is released... with the understanding that Mike Corral was, in fact, a terrorist (or, a TURRURIST!!!!), and that Joe Seventi was doing his patriotic duty as a man who has worked with Halliburton would surely do. That being accusing adversaries of being a TURRURIST to benefit themselves.
It had been a marked journey to escape the airport with kiddy fiddlers in uniform after him, but Mile Corral made it into the lobby of a nearby airport hotel and proceeded to ask for the receptionist to organise a flight with a plane from EWC's executive fleet, a luxury provided in extreme circumstances that affect the operations of the company. In this case the Combat title and Mike's match in Texas.
Gotta love worker benefits.
So as a time is scheduled, he books a room to change his attire to avoid being recognised by the TSA dickheads when he returns to the airport.
"Sir, a jet is docked at the airport for you, and a driver will arrive in five hours, so allow me to refund the cost of staying in a room, it shan't be a hassle as an EWC affiliate hotel."
Mike smiles to the lady at the desk and takes his key to room 7.
He opens the door and takes a breath of relief. That was an interesting situation at the airport, but one he's happy to have escaped, title in hand. Worth the risk.
Mike drops his title onto his bed and switches on the TV to the news, turning it up so he can hear it in the shower.
In the bathroom, he takes his shirt off and then goes to reach through the shower curtains and turn the water on. He looks back to the mirror and checks his face for cuts and bruises. The mirror steams over, so Mike goes to sweep aside the curtains and check the water, only to be met with a soaked, somewhat uncomfortable, but extremely ready Joe Seventi. Given the context, it sounds kind of suspect, but no, just a Joe Seventi plan in unfortunate circumstances.
Before Mike can react, Joe lands a left hook to Mike's jaw, sending him headfirst into the mirror. Dazed and pulling mirrorshards from his hair, Mike takes a swing with a free hand, but Joe pulls his head back, then grabs onto the safety rail in the shower and uses it as leverage for a side kick to Mike's ribs.
Joe then takes the opportunity to turn the shower off.
"That was getting way too hot."
He steps out of the shower and shakes Mike back to his senses.
"Hey! Mike! Sorry to barge in on you like this, but you know the deal."
Corral makes the attempt to grab a glass from beside the basin in the bathroom, but Joe ducks, pushing Mike into the bedroom and following up with a dropkick, sending Mike's head smack against the corner of the sidetable, knocking him out.
"Not quite how I wanted to knock him out, but it'll do."
Joe grabs his cellphone out and makes a call.
"Yeah. Come on up."
Moments later, a knock on the door. In bursts the driver/security guard/EWC referee from earlier. He takes one look at a soggy Joe lying on top of a half naked Mike Corral in a hotel bed and winces with discomfort, to Joe's slight embarrassment.
"Long story. Don't ask. Point is, I knocked him out. Count."
The referee abides.
His task complete, and his plan executed without a hitch, a damp Joe Seventi takes the Combat title from the bed and follows the referee to a shuttle bus. They both board the bus and head for the EWC jet at Philadelphia airport. But the referee, who's name Joe still hasn't gotten (typical of his business dealings when still at Eye-Insignia... the anonymous clients paid the best) decides to voice his concerns at Joe's actions.
"That was s bit unfair of you Joe. Mike at least organised to have you sent to Texas for the show. You would hinder him?"
Joe has a chuckle, then turns to him with a look of confidence.
"Somehow I feel like he's not out of our hair yet. This plane we're catching is for all EWC superstars... Mike's probably on the way to the same flight right now. We'll have to wait and see when we're on board."
They arrive on the tarmac and board the flight, where to Joe's approval he is told they are ready to depart.
And so, they take their seats in the swanky lounge cabin and, as the flight takes off, Joe takes a sip of whiskey to relax and enjoy the journey. He eyes up the hostesses as they perform their usual hand waves and whistle blows, noting the ones with shapely curves. Joe doesn't want to be too distracted, he already has a rather gorgeous other lady he has to face in the ring at Rampage.
Reminded of his upcoming match, and what it may mean as a potential foothold in the furthering of his EWC career, he pats the Combat title on his shoulder and looks at his watch. Under 24 hours to go...
As the bird soared through the night skies, there was a calm about the flight that seemed to ensure Seventi that he was somewhat safe for the time being. As the jet seemed to plunge through endless clouds, the aircraft began to rumble with turbulence as the flight attendants nearby gave each other awkward looks in an attempt to remain calm. The rattle of the structure seemed to startle all the passengers, especially Seventi as he clutched the title with a tight grip with wandering eyes. As Joe let his free hand find the arm of his chair to embrace it for stability, the loud bang of thunder boomed throughout the skies they traveled in. Droplets of rain crashed against the aircraft as the engines honed through a potential thunderstorm. A flight attendant made a slow advance towards Seventi as he looked a bit worried for his safety.
"This ... is normal sir, it's okay."
The flash of lighting spanned across the dark skies outside, as another fierce bit of turbulence shook the large bird that was bound for Texas. Oxygen masks immediately burst from their compartments, landing in front of all passengers as they hung down from their designated areas. The look of worry seemed to travel throughout the airplane like a plague, as passengers began to wonder if this was to be expected. As Seventi sat back in his chair, the lights of the airplane flickered gently, with the constant shake of the ongoing turbulence. As the area became dark, a figure was seen across the plane as the eyes of Joe Seventi widened, gripping his title even tighter while the looming shape panned out to be a man that almost seemed to touch the ceiling of the aircraft. A dark voice boomed throughout the plane as the figure remained hidden in the shadows.
" ... Let me tell you something right now ... SEVENTI ... "
Another roar of thunder traveled amongst the heavens as the flash of lightning gave forth to the image of a man wearing a wretched mask over his face, accompanied by long black, sinister locks of hair that seemed to blend well with the shadows that the plane produced while the lights had some failure. The bird itself kept level, as it remained in perfect flight, but to Seventi ... this was no EWC Superstar that stood before him. With gentle steps forward, there was a scream heard down in another area of the plane for the mere sight of The East Reaper, Trent Rayne. A flight attendant remained frozen as she remained the only audience between Seventi, the referee, and of course Trent. There was a evil laugh heard from Trent as he closed in on Seventi, who slowly rose to his feet for the challenge. " ... Today you Meet the Monster! ... "
Lunging forward, Trent threw a mighty right hand that landed against the face of Seventi, knocking him back and right over the chair he initially sat in. The reaction from the referee was to initially back off, but watching closely. The sole flight attendant remained frozen as she watched in shock, as the lights of the aircraft began to flicker back on. Seventi quickly rose to his feet and tossed a big boot into the gut of Trent, doubling him over a bit, as he followed quickly with heavy lariats onto the back of Rayne, attempting to bring The Unrelenting to his knees and being quite successful. Joe Seventi would drop the title, backing up with more than a few steps in an attempt to gain some momentum for a charge. Rayne quickly rose to his full stance, meeting Seventi's charge with another big right hand, sending the man into a small enclosed area that hosted a kitchen and a staff bathroom. Trent would reach out and grab onto the head of Joe Seventi, looking him in the eyes before using brute force to smash the man's head into the nearby kitchen counter. Objects flew off the kitchen counter as Seventi stumbled down and reached up onto the counter his face met, searching for anything to use. More screams were heard from the plane as the two men engaged in combat on the flight. "OH MY GOD HE'S GOT A FRYING PAN!"
The loud ping of a frying pan smacking against the top of Trent Rayne's head could be heard, as the East Reaper stumbled back into the bathroom door, putting his back against it while holding onto his head from Seventi's attack. Joe Seventi would continue the offensive, attempting to swing the frying pan back at Trent, who quickly decided to throw a stiff right punch that connected the with the frying pan, that would also obviously connect with the face of Seventi. The cooking tool landed out of reach while it produced another high pitch ping noise, as Rayne would quickly turn his back and open the door of the bathroom, reaching back and letting his fingers latch onto the head of Joe Seventi. Bringing Joe inside the overly small bathroom, Rayne would throw a weak knee into Joe's gut, then following up by shoving Seventi's head into the toilet. A flush could be heard throughout the back of the plane the two men had been fighting in. The body of Seventi would roll out of the tiny bathroom, as Trent walked right over him, signalling for the referee to come over. Rayne would lower himself for the pinfall.
... ! 1 ! ...
... ! 2 ! ...
... ! 3 ! ...
Trent would stand up off the body of Seventi, walking back towards the seating area as he reached down to scoop up the title belt. Rayne would slowly walk into another area of the plane after whipping his long black hair out of his eyes and mask.
As the plane landed and emptied, Trent Rayne exited the plane and calmly walked out towards the front door. As he is walking past the TSA agents, someone bum rushes him and knocks him into the bullet proof glass. As Rayne makes it back to his feet, he squares off with the assailant. As the two men brawl in the airport, TSA Agents try to make it through the large crowd surrounding the two men. Suddenly the assailant hits a spear and both men go through the glass. As the assailant covers Rayne, an EWC referee getting a full body cavity search runs out and counts the three.
As the assailant gets to his feet and grabs the 24 Hour combat title, he removes his mask and throws it on top of a prone Rayne. Damon Cross smiles as he turns and bolts out of the airport. The referee and Trent Rayne are surrounded by TSA Agents with handcuffs. Damon hops in a cab and heads towards Austin. As he hides in the shadows of the Austin underworld, Damon Cross hides in a mexican run cock fighting ring.
Post by Bradley Fiennes on Aug 11, 2013 7:01:55 GMT -6
The dusty back streets of summertime Austin were the perfect place to hold a good old fashioned cock fight.
Joe Seventi, like most people, found the practice disturbing and somewhat cruel, but had seen a lot of it in his travels abroad during his employment with Eye-Insignia. Indonesia, Pakistan, North Korea and the USA.
Here in Austin, Joe found himself in a position of familiarity with both the scene and the people who play a big part in it. The bookie for this particular cock fight that a wary Damon Cross has stumbled across is in fact an old friend of Joe Seventi and a moonlighting "contractor" for Eye-Insignia who, conveniently enough, also happens to owe Seventi for some fairly recent events.
"Alejandro Vega. Doing your best to distance yourself from Papa."
The bookie Alejandro turns from his vantage point overseeing the micro-carnage of two chickens stabbing the shit out of one another with motherfucking blades strapped to their feet. A nervous smile, and then a hand is extended rather casually.
"You uh... you're still kicking, huh?"
Chuckling from the corner of the nearest alley, Joe gently kicks out from his lean and strides slowly over to the man, disguised from casual observation by his fake beard and his jaded former-lumberjack attire. He gestures with his eyes toward Damon Cross, throwing money into the ring and immersing himself in the animalistic thrill. Sadly a title belt over his shoulder is a bit of a standout, and it didn't matter anyway because Seventi had been tailing him for two hours, probably concocting some scheme to progressively mindfuck and corner his opponents.
"Vega, you able to do something for me?"
Alejandro raises an eyebrow and reaches to his pocket for a cigarette.
"Will we be square?"
Joe smiles serenely, as if anticipating this very question.
"You have my word."
Lighting up, Alejandro Vega inhales his Pall Mall menthol crap and then breathes out with a look of relief spread across his tired face.
"And you have mine. What do you need done?"
***TEN MINUTES LATER***
"YEAHHHHH!!!!! 'BIPOLAR BADASS' THE CHICKEN, YOU ARE A LEGEND AMONG COCKS!!!!!!!"
Joe Seventi, this time dressed as a hybrid modern mechanic-'50s greaser thingy-mabob that will probably pass as some YouTube fad of the week costume, particularly since it involves oddly face-deforming fake teeth. He carries in his arms a cage with a scrawny chicken inside that looks like it's about to shiver to death. Alejandro brings in one of his strongest chickens and straps a tiny shiv to its foot while Joe's* tiny cock (*: penis is quite large) bares a kitchen knife that looks like it's way too heavy for the chicken's foot.
Damon Cross, holding a wad of cash significantly smaller than what he came to the cockfight with, looks to desperately win some money back on a no brainer match. He sees the scrawny, seemingly handicapped chicken being put into the same pit as the beefy, agile chicken from Vega's chicken fleet.
"Your cock. $200 on your cock."
Cross hands his last $200 to Vega, who smiles rather sheepishly.
Almost on cue, yells are heard and the chickens go at it. Joe takes a step back and evades Damon's eyesight through the crowd of onlookers. Damon, focused on the cockfight, is too horrified by the unexpected jumpy-roundy psycho-speedy pocket-rocket lead-foot of a scrawny chicken hammering the beefy chicken to death with a blunt kitchen knife strapped to its foot.
As the final blow is dealt with the kitchen knife's end impaling the prized chicken's head. Damon, pissed off about losing his money and some competitive part of his pride, is too distracted by the blood rushing to his head from rage that he doesn't notice Joe Seventi appear in front of him. Shocked for a second, and not immediately recognising him, Damon suddenly realises who the costumed person is and goes to grab the shiv from the dead chicken, only to be kicked in the face as he bends over to grab it. Not by Joe though.
"Vega! This is my business."
"Sorry, I was just getting carried away there after we hustled his money."
Smiling, yet shaking his head with ever-so-slightly-disapproving amusement, Joe turns to a knocked down Damon, who springs to his feet in an instant and returns with a punch that connects with Joe's still-recovering shoulder and sees him feigning incapacitation. Stumbling back, he nods to Vega, who pulls out a tazer and shocks Cross in the ribs.
"No doubts about it. We're square."
Damon, on the ground stunned, is grabbed by his arms and dragged by Joe over to the crowd of cockfight observers. Yelling something in Spanish about Damon being a "mucho gringo asshole" and probably telling them he was going around calling them all racist unmentionables, the crowd immediately pull out wooden bats and brass knuckles, proceeding to beat the crap out of Damon Cross.
Left in the streets in an absolute heap, Damon struggles for breath while Joe gets on one knee and places a hand on his chest. A man from the crowd appears: the EWC ref/driver Joe Seventi has evidently so far paid to follow him everywhere.
He makes the count...
Damon pushes Joe's arm off of him and takes a swing, warding Joe back as he evades the fist. Cross reaches behind himself for the shiv on the dead chicken's leg, but Joe steps on Cross' hand as soon as he grabs at it, crushing his hand and mushing it up in the trampled corpse of the cock. Damon yelps in pain, and grabs at his hand after Joe lifts his foot. Starting to fume with anger once again, Damon looks up and prepares himself to spring onto his feet, but Joe stands over him now with a 2x4. Suddenly looking very concerned, Damon opens his mouth to protest, but Joe smashes the wooden 2x4 across his skull, knocking him out cold.
"Let's try that again, shall we?"
Joe puts a foot on Damon's chest, and the referee makes a second count.
Joe takes the combat title from the floor next to Damon and runs off out of the area, grabbing a taxi at the nearest taxi rank. He went to the bus depot and hitched a ride on the Greyhound to Wisconsin. He had some deep fried cheese curds to settle his stomach on at the Coopers Restaurant in Madison, the perfect celebration for getting the combat title back.