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Post by Cid Black on Mar 27, 2010 11:35:47 GMT -5
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Post by eastsidedestroya on Mar 27, 2010 12:05:47 GMT -5
The camera fades into view East Side Destroya and his crew walking into the arena. Cid Black walks up to him.
Cid Black: Look, East Side Destroya. I've seen you in the street and thought that you would be a great addition to Sin City Wrestling. I mean just looking at you I can tell that you can be a great addition, which is why I booked you into one of the two triple threat qualifying matches for the vacant Sinner Championship.
East Side Destroya interrupts Cid Black.
East Side Destroya: C'mon man, don't give me that shit on the first day. You saw my body and that is the only PROOF that you have. Beating a big ass mother fucker don't prove shit in the street. But here, maybe it does. But look, man. Why don't you do me a favor and look in that camera and say that i am already the best here.
E.S. Destroya shoves Cid Black toward the camera. Cid Black then takes two steps toward E.S. Destroya very angrily.
Cid Black: Look here you little fucker, you do what I say, it's not the other way around.
E.S. Destroya: Pshh, whatever. I just know that I'm going to be in that ring tonight and beat the fuck whoever is in there and get a step closer to claiming a damn title in my first two or three weeks here. I'll cya later and i give you mad respect for stepping up like that to me, big man.
E.S. Destroya puts out his hand. Cid then goes to shake it, but East Side Destroya just skins him. E.S. Destroya and his crew then walk away from the camera angle and Cid black gives a confused look as the screen fades to a commercial.
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Post by aaron on Mar 27, 2010 14:04:29 GMT -5
Aaron Angel opened the scene talking to Tony Maxximum.
I don’t know what we’re going to do now. The extreme era is completely torn asunder, and it hasn’t even began. I don’t know if you’ve realized it, but we lost. We got too cocky, and ended up showing bad teamwork. There’s no middle ground between losing and the Extreme Era, man. We’ve got to show the piss-ant fans exactly how pathetic they are to have not rooted for us in the first place. We’ve got to show the world that some times a black cat can cross your path. That’s why tonight I’m gonna go out ther ein my match, and you’re gonna go out there in your match, and we’re going to show these guys exactly how electrifying our teamwork is. We have it made. I haven’t checked up on your opponents just yet, but if memory serves my big bad opposition is some gang-banger who thinks he can eat us all alive, and another corn-fed SOB who thinks he can eat… anything alive. They should both stick to beef. One getting plowed by Mr. Beefy in prison and the other getting a huge Mr. Beefy instead of entering the ring with me.
Can you believe that this first guy actually named himself “Destoya”?!? Congratulations, sir. You can’t spell, you can’t stay out of jail, you have a misnomer for a name, and you’re as stupid as Dreary by challenging the boss’ authority. You should shack up with your little posse some time and show each other your real gang-banging ways. As opposed to what I’m expecting of you, which is a mere pat on the ass in the shower room, followed by you tripping over your sagging jeans and eating the concrete when you fall, breaking your neck and resulting in a severe concussion. From there you go into the ring, and actually do BETTER than if you were fully okay in the head to begin with. Because no matter what you try to say to convince us, you’re mental anyway, you think you’re part of the East Side, when you’re actually just their advertisement in-ring, and no amount of fried chicken and watermelon training will save your ghetto-ass when the immaculate one comes to play and rip you a new one just like that Mr. Beefy I spoke of.
Then there’s that Justin-The -Wrong -Match Borderland. Nothing can compare to the amount of cows he’s slaughtered back home, or the amount of dip he’s thoroughly chewed up and spit out in the ring of fire that is tabacco, so he must have figured that with all this going on and on, he’s go a perfect chance to defeat something else. Aaron Angel. WRONG!
You see, I’m no ordinary superstar, Maxx, and we both know it. This Justin Guy is going to die at MY hands. And when we show them exactly what we’re made of and get another shot at the gold, we’ll win it all one-two-three. There’s nobody like us in this fed. There never will be anyone like us in this fed, and this Justin and the East Side Desdemona, will soon learn just what I am talking about. And I don’t have to sing country-songs to give the people what they want to see, or put my hands on the boss. These guys together just act like that Dreary guy. Well guess what? No one’s running. No one’s hiding. And you’ll see, Tony, that these guys are going to be eaten’ alive in our match.
Back to the real issue. What are we going to do about the assholes that have beaten us down from pure luck? Got any suggestions?
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