Post by Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith on Feb 27, 2017 22:37:10 GMT -5
Fade In
We open up to a park, but there isn't many people out there, and children aren't outside and playing. The wind kicks loose dirt and leaves around when it picks up. Looking up you can see a gray and cloudy sky. PCW Hall of Famer Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith sits on a bench along a paved walkway. The bench is a old metal and wooden bench. The metal frame is an off white with spots of brownish red rust stains showing through. The board holding the one by two boards onto the metal frame are all rusted at the top. The wood itself is worn looking. Many of the boards are warped from the years of use, and some have small cracks. No paint and color is on them besides the dull gray color from years of weathering that they've gone through. The bench cracks when Crazy Boy is seen moving into a relative comfortable position. The grass around the bench seems to be worn from the various types of people walking and sitting on it. His arms are crossed over his chest and he leans back on the back of the bench until he seems to look like he's asleep. Looking into his eyes, it is hard to tell what his current state of mind is or what sort of emotion he might be radiating.
CB: Trauma 208. Another time I have to face this thorn in my freaking side. Going up against a man having nothing to prove anymore and to show that you don't get anything without a little loss of blood and a whole lot of sweat. Another time I have to face that stupid, egotistical pirate known as High Tide. When will this war end? I am sick and tired of seeing his stupid, smug face across the ring from me. Trauma 208, I am freaking DONE.
Tyrone sneers and opens his eyes slowly. He almost feels like he can face High Tide in his sleep. Singles matches, tag matches, you name it, he has faced him. Hell, he has beaten him for one of his two North American title reigns. He thought he was finished with him last time, but he keeps coming back like a damn cockroach. And the sad thing is, he lost to him last Trauma, and things are slowly coming around full circle, but the thing is, any great wrestler would find some way to bounce back off of any major defeat, and he has.
CB: After Trauma, after I freaking HUMILIATE you, I never want to see you in the ring with me again. This war ends here. I don't care if you are by yourself, or your new friend, I'm ending it. With our without Hiroshi, I'm going to end this endless war between me and you. For almost THREE YEARS, we have tangled in the middle of the squared circle. Enough is enough. At Trauma, I'm going to wipe that stupid, smug smile right off your g*ddamned face.
With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Crazy Boy adjusts to let the numbness go away before he sinks back down into the seat. High Tide, albeit talented, has had a lot of things handed to him over his PCW career. He has been North American Champion, King of the Underground, and various other things that felt like it was just handed to him. Tyrone represents those of the back breakers, and he would proudly work his ass off to get to where he needs to be. He's worked hard to get where he is in the company, and by God, he will not let anybody get in his way after he's worked hard to get the spots he's been given.
CB: High Tide, it's not like I dislike you at all really. It just feels like the same thing sometimes. You are talented, I will give you that much. Every time we are in the ring, you bring out the best in me, and I'm sure I do the same to you. We have nothing left to prove to each other. This is now just a game of bragging rights. We have beaten each other so many times, neither one of us gets a leg up on each other. But the thing is, I have been in this funk I can't seem to get out of. I have to win this match. I MUST win this match to not only prove to everyone that I am still a force to reckon with, but to myself to prove that I am not past my prime and I can still hang with the best of the best.
Crazy Boy adjusts himself on the bench again, watching a young couple talk amongst themselves walk past him. He sighs and shakes his head slowly.
CB: You see, High Tide, the thing with me is I lost focus of what I wanted to do and haven't been winning my matches when they count. I wasn't winning them to win titles or make an impact. I was winning them to beat respect into people that wanted to show me such disrespect. I lost that focus and when I did, people started to doubt my abilities to win some of the biggest matches in my career. I would consider this match one of them. Not only would it be something to help me regain what I once had to do to become a serious competitor, but it would get me back on the path to perhaps get a title shot and my name in the spotlight.
The camera shifts slightly to look at a figure of a man slowly walking up behind The Crazy One. Carlos just stands there behind his brother and partner of a years past. Carlos places a hand on his shoulder and then pats it lightly as he then slowly makes his way around to sit next to Crazy Boy. Tyrone, on the other hand, hasn't move since his brother came up to him. A grin comes across his face, but nothing else has really changed. The air outside seems to change as a small droplet of rain falls upon the white gray colored paved walking path.
Carlos: Don't forget your career here a couple years back. Two time North American Champion and at the time, one of the best tag teams PCW has seen in a long time with Crazy Muscles. You were, and still are, a dominant force to be reckoned with. There were times when you beat certain people that they would respect you for it, and other times when you didn't beat them, but you had their respect nonetheless. Because they knew your heart and determination at becoming a great of our business.
CB: It's sad that how High Tide will be the first man that I get a hold of to get back to my old self. I'll pull out none of the stops to just crush him. At Trauma, I'll show everybody that High Tide doesn't belong in the ring or even in the PCW anymore. I've harped on the fact that he isn't ready for this and that he isn't ready to face the new me. I have my past to look back on to realize that I'm great when I'm as focused as I can be. The only thing you could get out of this is that I have what it takes to get what I want and truly feel that if I win this, I will start to PCW on notice once again.
Carlos: I concur on that aspect. Now let's get out of here before it starts to rain like hell.
Crazy Boy nods before he gets up. He looks around as the white gray pavement starts to get more grayish as the water droplets starts to build up. He and Carlos walk towards the parking lot and the bottom falls out. Could this be a sign of what is to come? The bottom of Crazy Boy's pent up frustration with his own performance and his willing to let it completely go to get back what he once had? Only time will tell.
CB: High Tide, there will be no more running for each of us, and I am sure as hell not hiding from you. After all is said and done, nobody will be able to stop me from getting my arm raised in victory. Not you, not Waryck, NOBODY.
The car doors are open, and quickly close. Then they pull out and take a drive down the beach, toward the beach house as the promo fades to black.
Static and fade.
End.
We open up to a park, but there isn't many people out there, and children aren't outside and playing. The wind kicks loose dirt and leaves around when it picks up. Looking up you can see a gray and cloudy sky. PCW Hall of Famer Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith sits on a bench along a paved walkway. The bench is a old metal and wooden bench. The metal frame is an off white with spots of brownish red rust stains showing through. The board holding the one by two boards onto the metal frame are all rusted at the top. The wood itself is worn looking. Many of the boards are warped from the years of use, and some have small cracks. No paint and color is on them besides the dull gray color from years of weathering that they've gone through. The bench cracks when Crazy Boy is seen moving into a relative comfortable position. The grass around the bench seems to be worn from the various types of people walking and sitting on it. His arms are crossed over his chest and he leans back on the back of the bench until he seems to look like he's asleep. Looking into his eyes, it is hard to tell what his current state of mind is or what sort of emotion he might be radiating.
CB: Trauma 208. Another time I have to face this thorn in my freaking side. Going up against a man having nothing to prove anymore and to show that you don't get anything without a little loss of blood and a whole lot of sweat. Another time I have to face that stupid, egotistical pirate known as High Tide. When will this war end? I am sick and tired of seeing his stupid, smug face across the ring from me. Trauma 208, I am freaking DONE.
Tyrone sneers and opens his eyes slowly. He almost feels like he can face High Tide in his sleep. Singles matches, tag matches, you name it, he has faced him. Hell, he has beaten him for one of his two North American title reigns. He thought he was finished with him last time, but he keeps coming back like a damn cockroach. And the sad thing is, he lost to him last Trauma, and things are slowly coming around full circle, but the thing is, any great wrestler would find some way to bounce back off of any major defeat, and he has.
CB: After Trauma, after I freaking HUMILIATE you, I never want to see you in the ring with me again. This war ends here. I don't care if you are by yourself, or your new friend, I'm ending it. With our without Hiroshi, I'm going to end this endless war between me and you. For almost THREE YEARS, we have tangled in the middle of the squared circle. Enough is enough. At Trauma, I'm going to wipe that stupid, smug smile right off your g*ddamned face.
With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Crazy Boy adjusts to let the numbness go away before he sinks back down into the seat. High Tide, albeit talented, has had a lot of things handed to him over his PCW career. He has been North American Champion, King of the Underground, and various other things that felt like it was just handed to him. Tyrone represents those of the back breakers, and he would proudly work his ass off to get to where he needs to be. He's worked hard to get where he is in the company, and by God, he will not let anybody get in his way after he's worked hard to get the spots he's been given.
CB: High Tide, it's not like I dislike you at all really. It just feels like the same thing sometimes. You are talented, I will give you that much. Every time we are in the ring, you bring out the best in me, and I'm sure I do the same to you. We have nothing left to prove to each other. This is now just a game of bragging rights. We have beaten each other so many times, neither one of us gets a leg up on each other. But the thing is, I have been in this funk I can't seem to get out of. I have to win this match. I MUST win this match to not only prove to everyone that I am still a force to reckon with, but to myself to prove that I am not past my prime and I can still hang with the best of the best.
Crazy Boy adjusts himself on the bench again, watching a young couple talk amongst themselves walk past him. He sighs and shakes his head slowly.
CB: You see, High Tide, the thing with me is I lost focus of what I wanted to do and haven't been winning my matches when they count. I wasn't winning them to win titles or make an impact. I was winning them to beat respect into people that wanted to show me such disrespect. I lost that focus and when I did, people started to doubt my abilities to win some of the biggest matches in my career. I would consider this match one of them. Not only would it be something to help me regain what I once had to do to become a serious competitor, but it would get me back on the path to perhaps get a title shot and my name in the spotlight.
The camera shifts slightly to look at a figure of a man slowly walking up behind The Crazy One. Carlos just stands there behind his brother and partner of a years past. Carlos places a hand on his shoulder and then pats it lightly as he then slowly makes his way around to sit next to Crazy Boy. Tyrone, on the other hand, hasn't move since his brother came up to him. A grin comes across his face, but nothing else has really changed. The air outside seems to change as a small droplet of rain falls upon the white gray colored paved walking path.
Carlos: Don't forget your career here a couple years back. Two time North American Champion and at the time, one of the best tag teams PCW has seen in a long time with Crazy Muscles. You were, and still are, a dominant force to be reckoned with. There were times when you beat certain people that they would respect you for it, and other times when you didn't beat them, but you had their respect nonetheless. Because they knew your heart and determination at becoming a great of our business.
CB: It's sad that how High Tide will be the first man that I get a hold of to get back to my old self. I'll pull out none of the stops to just crush him. At Trauma, I'll show everybody that High Tide doesn't belong in the ring or even in the PCW anymore. I've harped on the fact that he isn't ready for this and that he isn't ready to face the new me. I have my past to look back on to realize that I'm great when I'm as focused as I can be. The only thing you could get out of this is that I have what it takes to get what I want and truly feel that if I win this, I will start to PCW on notice once again.
Carlos: I concur on that aspect. Now let's get out of here before it starts to rain like hell.
Crazy Boy nods before he gets up. He looks around as the white gray pavement starts to get more grayish as the water droplets starts to build up. He and Carlos walk towards the parking lot and the bottom falls out. Could this be a sign of what is to come? The bottom of Crazy Boy's pent up frustration with his own performance and his willing to let it completely go to get back what he once had? Only time will tell.
CB: High Tide, there will be no more running for each of us, and I am sure as hell not hiding from you. After all is said and done, nobody will be able to stop me from getting my arm raised in victory. Not you, not Waryck, NOBODY.
The car doors are open, and quickly close. Then they pull out and take a drive down the beach, toward the beach house as the promo fades to black.
Static and fade.
End.