FPW and The Temple of Doom Match Promos

[Pizza Ant]

TJ Cole walks into a dingy bar. He looks at a piece of paper in his hands.

TJC: I hope this is the right place..

He sees who’s he’s looking for. He walks up to the bar and sits on a stool. He taps the man next to him on the back.

?: What the hell do you want?

TJC: Hello Haych.. hello Dario. I’ve been wondering.. do you want to potentially get your hands on Adam Thompson after what he did to your boss?

Both: Hell yeah!

TJC: Well you’re in luck! Because I choose you to be my final 2 lumberjacks!

D: Alright. Where’s the cash?

TJC: What?

H: Our payment. We’re not working for you for free.

TJC: Well, I..

The Invaders get up and tower over TJ.

TJC: It’s right here!

TJ pulls out a wad of money.

TJC: Here you go boys! See you in NOLA!

The Invaders laugh as TJ runs out of the bar.

[Pizza Ant]

TJ Cole sits on his signature throne, wearing a fur coat and smoking a cigar. Mark Anderson and Paul Meyers stand beside him.

TJC: Adam Thompson. You have one week. One week until I take everything that’s yours. One week until the Friendmigos become the most powerful group in professional wrestling. 

TJ blows out some smoke.

TJC: So I gotta ask.. how does it feel? How does it feel to be the one to lose to TJ Cole? Your kingdom, everything you built here in FPW, it’s going to come crashing down. I take that it doesn’t feel too good. But don’t worry! This place.. it’s in good hands. The TRUE KING of FPW is going to give you a good place in the NEW FPW kingdom. You like King Arthur, right? You fancy yourself a Pendragon? You’re all about the sword in the stone and Excalibur and all that? Well here’s a legend for you. There once was a king. This king was old and overconfident. He believed he’d be ruler of the land of Freedom forever. Every challenger for the crown he got.. they all were struck down. The best fighters in the world couldn’t stand to him. And this king.. this king did stay king forever. And everyone lived happily ever after. 

TJ and the Hardcases laugh.

TJC: But that’s where the legend stops and we enter real life. You see, in real life, a young man and his best friends enter the picture. This young, virile, sexy man was DESTINED to become king. But the current king.. the overconfident undefeated old man.. he had a heart of gold. He lacked a certain.. killer instinct. So when he was approached by the court jester, a man who he thought was his friend, he became distracted enough to be stabbed in the back. The young man’s destiny had finally come. The crown of the land of Freedom was his. Now.. in case you can’t tell, you’re the guy who ends up dead by the end of the story. And I’m that sexy beast of a future king. And the crown? That’s the FPW World Championship. You see, Adam, I’m the true king of FPW. I have my round table. I have my throne. I just need my crown. So in one week, in New Orleans, Louisiana, at WrestleCon, I’m taking what’s already mine. Dread it. Run from it. Destiny still arrives.

TJ blows out more smoke.

TJC: And on that note, the Friendmigos are fine! You know why? Because the Friendmigos are mine! And soon? FPW will be mine. This is my kingdom now, so BOW DOWN.

[Jim Houston]

The video opens with MDE's face in the centre of the screen. It seems as though it's being shot on a webcam.

"Graham... I'm going to keep this very simple. You keep talking and talking and talking about your hardcore exploits and how many weapons you plan to use to defeat me. It seems like you lack a certain ability that most people find simple. The ability to listen. I could sit here and talk and talk and talk about what I'm going to do but it's becoming tiresome. In a week's time, you'll find out that what I've been saying all along is true. A good wrestler will always beat someone who's swinging a bat at them. So Graham... you have fun training with your barbed wire and your pins and your light tubes because that's the only time this week that they'll see any action. When we step into the ring, they'll be sat at the side, always slightly out of your reach. You'll be locked in hold after hold, reaching out in desperation for your precious toys but I won't let you lay a single finger of any of them. You'll scratch, you'll claw, you'll thrash. You'll try to dump me in a pile of sharp objects or whatever you have in mind but remember this... I'll always be three steps ahead. You start the match with a light tube in your hand and I take you down torque your wrist and throw it into row seven. You start by laying out all of your little drawing pins and I lock up your legs and kick each and every single one of them to the floor. You start by swinging something wrapped in barbed wire at me and I duck, throw you across the ring and then rip off the barbed wire, snap the object in two and deposit both well away from your grasp. I intend to prove categorically that a wrestler will always win over a hardcore brawler. Let me know when you've got something interesting to say. Otherwise, I'll see you in New Orleans."

[marileeg17]

The camera, which opens on an empty arena, pans up to the top of the building where one man wearing a wool hat fedora is sitting with his feet kicked up over a set of arena chairs. As the camera focuses on the man, he tips his hat slightly, revealing the unmistakable grin of Marcus Allen Jones.

MAJ: Welcome to New Orleans but more importantly, welcome to the place that will be my temple, my paradise.

Marcus stands up and takes the hat off, placing it on top of the Young Lions Cup which is sat beside him. He grins as he looks at the trophy, its shine reflecting an image of his face.

MAJ: This is my holy grail, my ark of the covenant, my crystal skull.

Marcus jumps over a set of seats and begins to walk down the stairs, making his way to where a ring crew is setting up for FPW and the Temple of Doom. Marcus pushes one of the guys aside and tells the other to scram before instructing the camera man to come in close.

MAJ: And do you see this ring? This is my ring whether anybody wants to believe it or not. And just because I’ve given myself a well-deserved night off, just because I’m allowing others to showcase whatever minimal talent they have in my absence, doesn’t change the impact I’ve already had on this card. I mean, consider the facts. TJ Cole only has a title match because of me. Because I put him there. As soon as Jim saw my comments saying I wanted TJ to have the match, what happened? Graham Baker and Clutch McCloud were removed from contention. And yet, I haven’t gotten a thank you yet. You know TJ, it’s quite rude not to thank someone when they’ve done you a service. I’ve made you relevant since newsflash, the Friendmigos may be yours, but no one has ever given a damn about those losers anyway.

Marcus rolls out of the ring and begins to circle it slowly.

MAJ: And Bobby. Poor, broken Bobby. He has a chance to air his demons in front of all of the fans. And why does Bobby have this chance? Because I’m permitting it. Personally, I’m hoping he develops a terrible British accent and starts chanting “DELETE” because that would be entertaining, better than anything else he’s done since he’s been here. Broken Bobby, has a nice ring to it.

Marcus pauses before lifting up the ring apron and pulling out a barbed wire baseball bat.

MAJ: Looks like Graham started hiding weapons already. That’s another match that I had a direct impact on making happen. So the more I think about it, this card should be called “MarcusMania.” But, I’m a generous man. I’m willing to share the billing with my belt collectors. So let's call this, instead of MarcusMania, let's call it, TakeOver: New Orleans.

Marcus smirks.

MAJ: And speaking of those belt collectors, TJ how dumb can you be? The Invaders as your lumberjacks? You must not know how the mercenary business works.

Marcus reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of dollar bills which happen to have his face on them and begins throwing them around the ring in an act of 'making it rain.'

MAJ: I’ll give you a little insight. There’s always someone out there who can pay more. And when men are hired guns, when they work for the green pieces of paper you provide them, what do you think happens when someone else pays them more than you and tells them to do the opposite of what you want? TJ, Haych and Dario, they have allegiances to one man and one man only. ME. I say jump, they not only say ‘how high’ but they ask how long they should jump as well. Because what I’ve given is worth more than a few dollars TJ and just know, I’ll be ringside for your match. And if I were you, I’d be really, really wary of the devil you know.

Marcus grins again and taps the ring three times before getting back inside and sitting cross-legged in the center.

MAJ: You can call this your kingdom and you can call yourself a king, but what good is a king if you are in someone else’s castle? Oh TJ, you don’t even know what you don’t know. And what you don’t know will be your undoing at TakeOver: New Orleans. As for the rest of you lucky enough that Marcus has allowed you to be on this card, just know that this is basically an open audition. Impress me and maybe just maybe, you’ll find yourself taking over the world of wrestling one day soon.

Marcus looks back up to the top of the arena where one of the ring attendants is standing, a large fan in front of him.

MAJ: My hat, Short Round!

The man rolls his eyes but eventually turns on the fan, allowing the hat to blow towards the ring. It doesn’t quite make it though which frustrates Marcus who leaves the ring to grab his hat off the floor.

MAJ: We practiced that and you still screwed up idiot! Dammit Short Round, you had one job!

The man meets Marcus on the steps and hands him his cup.

Crewmember: My name’s Justin and I’m from Detroit…Asshole…

The man leaves as Marcus just shakes his head before putting his hat back on and then turning back to the camera man.

MAJ: Your name is irrelevant...Anyway, TJ, Adam, Clutch, Jeremiah, Graham, MDE, Jameson, Dessius, Davey Jones, Azazel, and the rest of you lot, bring your best and only your best for TakeOver: New Orleans. If you don’t, well I don’t want to spoil the ending, but let’s just say, this Temple of Doom might as well be your burial ground instead.

Marcus throws up a gesture which symbolizes TakeOver, before grabbing his trophy and leaving the arena, all the while humming the Indiana Jones theme song and seemingly pissing off each of the members of the ring crew which have gotten back to work.

[The_Aviator_GB]

Dasha Banks and the FPW film crew enter the FPW Performance Center as Graham Baker enters a physically-intensive training session against three other trainees. Graham shakes their hands, and tosses his jacket aside as the first man goes into a collar-and-elbow tieup with Baker while the other two opponents fight on their own off to the side. Graham quickly takes advantage, forcing the first man onto the ground and pulling him into a headlock. The man tries to fight out, but Baker relocates the hold, pushing the man down with his knee and shoving him face-first into the ground, before getting a wristlock established on him. Graham pulls him to his feet, and transitions into a snap German suplex, sending the man back across the ring. He quickly maintains control once again as the man recovers, entering back into a wristlock and forcing the man back down onto the ground. He locks in the Emergency Landing on the man, who taps out a mere moment later. Graham is about to turn his focus to the other two, but he notices Dasha and the film crew, and sighs. He grabs his jacket, and pulls it on, rolling out from under the ring ropes and approaching the camera crew.

DB: A moment of your time, Graham? We want to ask you about MDE's comments and your opinion on your upcoming match?

Graham nods, but keeps walking, forcing the camera to follow him.

Baker: MDE thinks he's clever. Thinks he's getting in my head by acting bored. He wants me to come into this match untrained, ready for a fight and thinking he's lazy. I'd be stupid if I thought he would really come in unarmed and ready to try and wrestle a full match in a deathmatch ring. I'm not buying it, so i'm preparing any way I can. He wants to act like he's exhausted with me, like he doesn't give half a fuck about hardcore wrestling...I know he does. He at least respects people like Jimmy Havoc and Clint Margera, who are kind-of the forefathers of that style in the UK. He wants to talk shit on them like he talks shit on me...well, it's his funeral. Not mine.

DB: So you think MDE is trying to toy with you again?

Baker: I think? No, I know. That's how he plays. He gets in your head, gets in your thoughts, and tries to fuck you up so you slip up in the ring. It worked on me twice...but now? Nah. I'm clear-headed, i'm more certain of myself than I have been in a long time, maybe ever. MDE's in for a rude awakening in Temple of Doom, regardless of if he comes to that ring in body armor armed to the teeth or if he comes in in a fucking singlet with no weaponry. He knows what I'm bringing, he might choose to respond in kind. If he doesn't, he relies on his holds. It's not going to be a walk in the park for either of us, but I have confidence in myself if nothing else. This is my turf.

DB: So what happens after this match between you and MDE?

Baker stops for a moment. He thinks, then keeps walking. 

Baker: I don't know. My mind's solely focused on shaking the monkey off my back. I still want Adam Thompson and a swing at the FPW Championship, but that might be booked for a while. People like Marcus Allen Jones want to claim that they're the #1 contender...you know, that sorta shit really clogs up the progression of the system. I don't know if he is the contender, but i'll let Houston and management sort that out, because they probably aren't ready for me to be in that scene yet. That's fine, of course-my record isn't exactly the best since i've arrived. Who knows-maybe after this match, assuming the outcome favors me, i'll go after the Hardcore title. Maybe. I can't think about that right now.

DB: How confident are you in the fact that you'll beat MDE?

Baker stops, and turns toward the camera and Dasha.

Baker: How confident am I? I'm about as confident as I need to be. It'll be no easy fight, but I have to beat MDE. I have to show that I can do it, or this whole promotion's going to lose its faith in me. MDE's a tough son of a bitch, but i've faced him before. I came close. This time, I need to do the job-no slip ups, no mocking, no bullshit. MDE and I are going head to head, and if Houston has any brain in his fucking head, he should put us as the main event because we're going to steal the fucking show. I respect every other man on this card, but this match? This is special. This is going to be one of the most important contests in FPW's history. If I win, FPW's new ace appears from the fucking ashes and rises to take his place. Graham Baker, the Aviator, comes out and shows the world what he can fucking do.

DB:...and if you lose?

Baker pauses once more. He looks at the camera.

Baker: I won't. Losing's not an option. Failure's not. Against MDE, here, this is my proving ground. I intend to show Graham Baker at his best, and Graham Baker at his best...doesn't falter. No further questions, i've got training to do.

Baker pulls his coat on all the way and grabs his bag from the locker room that they've ended up near, walking out and leaving Dasha and her crew to watch him leave the performance center. 

[Pizza Ant]

Jim Houston is in the ring with a table and Adam Thompson and TJ Cole sitting across from each other. Thompson is wearing a classy suit and he has the FPW World Championship over his shoulder. Cole is wearing a suit as well, with sunglasses and various rings on (one of them being Jerry’s lucha ring). Jerry Bishop stands close to his side. A contract lies on the table.

JH: Thank you for joining us for this special contract signing livestream. This is in preparation for our main event this Sunday at FPW & The Temple of Doom in New Orleans. TJ Cole will be challenging Adam Thompson for the FPW World Championship in a lumberjack match! Now, gentlemen, let’s take this easy-

Cole takes the mic from Houston.

TJC: Adam, Adam, Adam.. I hope you realize that this is the last time you’ll be signing a contract as the FPW World Champion. Just.. let the moment soak in, y’know? Don’t want you leaving New Orleans with any regrets-

Thompson grabs his own mic and signs the contract.

AT: Alright, I signed the bloody contract. Will you shut up now?

Cole adjusts his collar.

TJC: Do you know who the hell you’re talking to?! I’m TJ fucking Cole! I’m the MASTER of the Friendmigos! I’m the king of FPW! You need to treat me with some damn respect-

Thompson hits Cole with his microphone and flips the table over. Jim Houston slides out of the ring. Thompson hits Cole with a dragon suplex before turning to the crowd, who egg him on. Thompson lifts Cole up for Excalibur but Cole manages to kick him in the balls. Thompson doubles over and Cole hits him with a snap DDT (like the Miz). Cole waits for Thompson to try and get back up and he hits him with the FPW World Championship. Cole grabs one of the chairs they were sitting on and puts it around Thompson’s leg. He turns to Jerry Bishop, who’s just been hiding in the corner.

TJC: Jerry, you know what you have to do! Friendmigos have each other’s backs! Super Che didn’t have your back but I do! Do you have mine?

Jerry nods very slowly.

TJC: Then do it! Be a Friendmigo!

Jerry contemplates what he has to do, sitting back in the corner with his head in his hands. Cole pulls him back up.

TJC: Do it!

Cole slaps Jerry. Jerry’s face fills with rage unlike anything anybody has ever seen from Jerry. He immediately begins stomping on Thompson’s leg, over and over again. Thompson screams in pain as Jerry’s rage only grows stronger. Jerry grabs Thompson and puts him in the Chelsea Smile crossface submission. He doesn’t let go at first, but when he does, he just sits in the ring, staring off into space. TJ Cole signs on the contract on Thompson’s chest before holding up the FPW World Championship and putting his hand out to Jerry. Jerry stares up to Cole, obviously reluctant to do what he wants him to do. After a few seconds of contemplation, he nods and closes his eyes, giving in and kissing the lucha ring. Cole grabs a mic again.

TJC: Now you all know the catchphrase so say it with me! The Friendmigos are mine... and FPW is mine!

Cole laughs maniacally as the livestream ends.