Waking a Sleeping Giant, The Prelude
Jun 23, 2018 13:06:34 GMT -5
The Anarchist and Mr. PURE! like this
Post by Stace Matthews on Jun 23, 2018 13:06:34 GMT -5
Waking a Sleeping Giant
Prelude - By Process of Elimination
A Not-So-Secret Secret Roleplay for PCW T233
It's only June, 2018, and he's already stacked a number of regrets in just a few short months. He had also found great success, a love for the road reborn and a new passion for this business. Working coast to coast, for local, regional and national promotions, even an international one that frequented Canada until announcing their closure as well. “It's only a matter of time,” everyone thought it, Johnny Matthews refused to see it; even after, his Notorious ally blatantly said it.
Backstage, for every promotion he picked up a pay-per-appearance agreement, he heard about three or more around every area that had gone under. For one reason or another, mostly though, for promoters either one, not getting with the times; two, promoters not coming through on their promises; or three, both. It's as simple as that.
“Pay me to promote the fact I'm putting my body on the line for you and, if you would be so kind, do so fairly.”
I will give them what you make it worth it to me. Take for instance, a logging chain match two weeks ago in Miami against CJ Cross. A twelve-foot, sixty-pound log chain. At forty years old, carrying on that way leads to permanent injury. Something like, taking one helluva sick bump, crashing through two tables; wood, metal and glass.
Johnny Matthews was furious when he whipped Sinister into the parking lot of the Pure Class Arena. His custom ‘58 Ford, satin-black, thundered the pavement and made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Everyone heard him coming and everyone cleared the way as he drove around the west side to the talent gate. Big Dave let him through and Matthews parked his truck against the furthest edge of the lot. He shut her down and lowered his window. A waft of an ashtray and billows of smoke rolled out with the rowdy thumping of the beat of “Last Man Standing”.
“I was the life of the whole damned party,” Matthews sang, “and the party never ends. ‘till I pissed off all my women and I ran off all my friends. Think I'd learned my lesson, get my as in gear,” then he shouted, “but I flipped them all the bird and then I cracked another beer.”
Some lyrics are just spot on and some lines hit the nail on the head, “It gets lonely at the top, line by line and drop by drop, when you're the last man standing.”
Matthews sat at the wheel, behind the arena he had just blindsided the reigning Underground King during Living a Legacy X. Where he had made his return, since taking a self-finding adventure in March, and attacked Dominator. Where he had made the faithful POP for The Zenith. The widely, yet unfavorably, known Johnny Matthews was back in the Pure Class Wrestling ring.
“Tyler Scott?”
The cigarette glowed bright cherry-red as he drew hard on it. Looking in the mirror, his face was a mess. A busted lip, bent nose, crooked grin and bloodshot eyes; a shiner on the left one. Months ago, he was having trouble finding a reason for all of it. Since, he's found that it's just in his blood. Now, well past any prime he may have ever had, he’s still running full-throttle; however, he does so for them.
As Matthews kicked the driver's door open and dropped down out of the cab, you could hear them inside the arena as both soles of his Harley¤Davidson Badlands hit the blacktop. He adjusted the Stetson fedora on his head. Those emerald greens of his were hidden behind blacked out Aviators. He reached back into the cab and pulled out ‘Justice’, the fat handle end of a cue stick with a giant steel nut bolted tight on the threads.
“Not so sure what fucking show their asses were watching,” he mutters as he gathers his bag, “but NOTORIOUS is back you bunch of assholes and you don't go teaming my brother with someone that just tried to take that goddamn strap. Not so long as this fucker is in the building.”
Matthews bee-lined to the talent entrance, duffel over his shoulder and Justice in his left hand. As he entered the building, he hollered out...
“OH, TYLER!”
...and, continued his mission to partner with Justin “Stormm” Michaels, because even if only to the crazed country rebel, that was what was right.
Prelude - By Process of Elimination
A Not-So-Secret Secret Roleplay for PCW T233
It's only June, 2018, and he's already stacked a number of regrets in just a few short months. He had also found great success, a love for the road reborn and a new passion for this business. Working coast to coast, for local, regional and national promotions, even an international one that frequented Canada until announcing their closure as well. “It's only a matter of time,” everyone thought it, Johnny Matthews refused to see it; even after, his Notorious ally blatantly said it.
Backstage, for every promotion he picked up a pay-per-appearance agreement, he heard about three or more around every area that had gone under. For one reason or another, mostly though, for promoters either one, not getting with the times; two, promoters not coming through on their promises; or three, both. It's as simple as that.
“Pay me to promote the fact I'm putting my body on the line for you and, if you would be so kind, do so fairly.”
I will give them what you make it worth it to me. Take for instance, a logging chain match two weeks ago in Miami against CJ Cross. A twelve-foot, sixty-pound log chain. At forty years old, carrying on that way leads to permanent injury. Something like, taking one helluva sick bump, crashing through two tables; wood, metal and glass.
Johnny Matthews was furious when he whipped Sinister into the parking lot of the Pure Class Arena. His custom ‘58 Ford, satin-black, thundered the pavement and made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Everyone heard him coming and everyone cleared the way as he drove around the west side to the talent gate. Big Dave let him through and Matthews parked his truck against the furthest edge of the lot. He shut her down and lowered his window. A waft of an ashtray and billows of smoke rolled out with the rowdy thumping of the beat of “Last Man Standing”.
“I was the life of the whole damned party,” Matthews sang, “and the party never ends. ‘till I pissed off all my women and I ran off all my friends. Think I'd learned my lesson, get my as in gear,” then he shouted, “but I flipped them all the bird and then I cracked another beer.”
Some lyrics are just spot on and some lines hit the nail on the head, “It gets lonely at the top, line by line and drop by drop, when you're the last man standing.”
Matthews sat at the wheel, behind the arena he had just blindsided the reigning Underground King during Living a Legacy X. Where he had made his return, since taking a self-finding adventure in March, and attacked Dominator. Where he had made the faithful POP for The Zenith. The widely, yet unfavorably, known Johnny Matthews was back in the Pure Class Wrestling ring.
“Tyler Scott?”
The cigarette glowed bright cherry-red as he drew hard on it. Looking in the mirror, his face was a mess. A busted lip, bent nose, crooked grin and bloodshot eyes; a shiner on the left one. Months ago, he was having trouble finding a reason for all of it. Since, he's found that it's just in his blood. Now, well past any prime he may have ever had, he’s still running full-throttle; however, he does so for them.
As Matthews kicked the driver's door open and dropped down out of the cab, you could hear them inside the arena as both soles of his Harley¤Davidson Badlands hit the blacktop. He adjusted the Stetson fedora on his head. Those emerald greens of his were hidden behind blacked out Aviators. He reached back into the cab and pulled out ‘Justice’, the fat handle end of a cue stick with a giant steel nut bolted tight on the threads.
“Not so sure what fucking show their asses were watching,” he mutters as he gathers his bag, “but NOTORIOUS is back you bunch of assholes and you don't go teaming my brother with someone that just tried to take that goddamn strap. Not so long as this fucker is in the building.”
Matthews bee-lined to the talent entrance, duffel over his shoulder and Justice in his left hand. As he entered the building, he hollered out...
“OH, TYLER!”
...and, continued his mission to partner with Justin “Stormm” Michaels, because even if only to the crazed country rebel, that was what was right.