The Secret of the Ooze Pre-Card Promos

[Jim Houston]

The following email has been sent to all FPW roster members.

Dear all,

Another fantastic show to cap off a great summer for FPW. Thank you to everyone involved. But now we must look forward. On Sunday 7th October, we will be hosting FPW and The Secret of the Ooze. The main event of this show as we already know will be Marcus Allen Jones defending his FPW Championship against Azazel, who earned that right by defeating Davey Jones once and for all at Cruise Control. We also know that our newly crowned Free-1 winner, Graham Baker, will defend his Hardcore Title against The King of Extreme, Tommy Storm. The stipulation for that match is as of yet unconfirmed. I would also like to find out the next contender for the FPW Championship. Two men stand out as worthy challengers as both defeated Marcus in the Free-1 and, as luck would have it, their Free-1 match was perhaps not a true reflection of Jerry Bishop's abilities after he was jumped by The Invaders. Therefore, our third match to be announced will be Jerry Bishop versus Clutch McCloud, with the winner facing the FPW Champion in November. I'd also like to see James Saturn have the chance to get some revenge on The Queendom, so will be asking him to find two partners to join him in six-person tag team action. There are two more available slots on the card, so I will be watching closely over the next week to determine the best matches to include.

Once again, I thank you for your efforts in the past months and wish you all the best of luck for our upcoming shows.

Many thanks,

Jim Houston.
FPW General Manager

[The_Aviator_GB]

Shortly after the Free-1 final, a sweaty and exhausted Graham Baker is helped to the back by John Grimm and Elizabeth Karlson. They help him to the table at the press conference, and one of them motions for a beer. Baker leans back in his chair, wiping the sweat off of his face with one hand and planting the Free-1 trophy on the table with the other. He unhooks his Hardcore strap from around his shoulder, and puts it down on the table next to the trophy, before he pulls the chair up. Grimm hands him a beer shortly thereafter, and Baker glances at the bottle, and cracks the cap off with his teeth before taking a long swig. He slams the bottle back down on the table, and gets to his feet, warily, before he begins speaking.

"When I started in this business, I didn't think I'd get this far. I didn't think companies with TV deals would be where I thrived, and I sure as shit didn't think I'd be a mainstay and winning any major titles or accomplishments. I busted my ass, sure, but when I won the Wired Title in CZW, I thought that was the top of the mountain for me, and I was satisfied. I thought i'd journeyman through the indies for a bit, do a couple dozen matches, get my ass handed to me, and maybe go back home to train or ride the wave of success. I knew the E'd never come calling-i'm not that type of talent, a little too many brush-ins with the hardcore for their liking, but when Freedom Pro called me in...well, it was a bit of a wakeup call.

I performed to the best of my ability at my tryout, I took on every comer they sent at me, and I was offered a contract. First, it was dependent on the Young Lion's Cup, which I was eliminated from following a loss to MDE at my first ever show, and I'd be embarrassed twice more with yet another loss to MDE and a loss to Nick Jameson before I managed to hit my stride and find my place here, submitting MDE in the center of the ring in an I quit match. From there, it's been...kind of a wild ride, actually. Fighting every opponent and battle set before me, I won the Hardcore title off of Jameson two falls to one, and tore my way through the Free-1, being the only competitor to sustain no losses throughout the whole fucking thing. No one saw this coming, no one saw me going to the finals...except myself. When I began to believe in myself, I started to win again. I started to bring out everything from my opponents and give them everything I had, and I kept finding more, and more, and fucking more to give them. 

Jerry Bishop, you gave me everything tonight. It was an honor to share the ring with you, but one of us had to walk out victorious, and though you had me close many times tonight, you could never fully put me away. I'm sorry we both couldn't be victorious...but that's just the nature of the sport. I'll take a rematch with you any day, old friend, and I wish you luck in your match against Clutch. I know you can get it done."

Baker stops, admiring the trophy for a minute and running his hand alongside it.

"Graham Baker. Winner of the inaugural Free-1 tournament. FPW Hardcore Champion. I'm going to address those two things, but in reverse order, starting with...Tommy Storm.

Tommy Storm, you're facing me for the Hardcore Title on October 7th, twenty-nine days from today. The stipulation is as of yet 'undecided', but I've lain my request out in an old-fashioned Japanese deathmatch. No canvas. No turnbuckle pads. Barbed wire ropes. Cinderblocks on the ring. You want to take this belt off me, you're going to have to kill me, and I invite you to try. I expect a response soon, so please, make this match worth my while. I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do.

And...Marcus Allen Jones. The current Freedom Pro Wrestling World Champion. Before I hoped you'd lose that title at any given opportunity, but now? Now I hope you make it to the End of the Year show in whatever way you possibly can, because now that i'm facing you, I know I have the tools to put you down for good like the sick fucking dog you are. You're a plague on this company, a cancer, and like all cancers...you need to be excised. I've got the scalpel in my hand, and i'm going to pick you apart, snap both your arms like twigs, and we'll see how well you can compete after that. Everyone in my way's fallen so far...you're next, motherfucker.

I'll see you at the End of the Year. 

To my fans who've supported me so far, and all the fans of FPW, now you see my rise. Don't miss the finale."

Baker takes another swig of beer as he sits down and kicks his feet up as the recorders hit him with questions almost immediately...

[marileeg17]

FPW Exclusive - Immediately Following the Main Event of Cruise Control

Cameras follow Marcus Allen Jones as he makes his way toward Jim Houston's office, a look of smug arrogance mixed with frustration plastered on his face. Pushing past a few techs who are taking down the ring following the end of the show, Marcus shoves his way forward and bursts into Jim's office without knocking. The door opening startles Jim initially but as he realizes who it is, he's more annoyed than anything else.

JH: "I'll call you back later..."

Putting down the phone, Jim takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the encounter. He looks at Marcus, who grins ear to ear.

MAJ: "AND STILL!"

Jim rolls his eyes as Marcus puffs up his chest, holding the title inches away from the boss' face. Jim just shakes his head.

JH: What do you want Marcus?

Marcus shakes his head.

MAJ: No, that's not right. I think you mean, "What do you want CHAMP?" Because despite your attempts to ensure otherwise, that title is STILL mine.

Jim takes another deep breath, trying to calm himself.

JH: What do you want...Marcus...

Marcus laughs dryly as he steps even closer to Jim's desk, the title basically touching the man's shoulder as it dangles in the air. Before Jim can touch the belt however, Marcus pulls it back and smiles.

MAJ: I want you to congratulate your champ on the first of many successful titles defenses, against people these fans fall on their knees for. I took out their hero, next I take out their anti-hero. And then, finally, their lunatic. So congratulate me Jim, because tonight I put this company on the map and I did it, without a damn bit of the brass standing behind me. Congratulate me Jim. Congratulate me.

Again, Jim just rolls his eyes. He throws his hands in the air, relenting.

JH: Congratulations...Now, if that's all you came here for, I have some work I need to get done.

Marcus shakes his head and laughs. 

MAJ: Oh, that's not all I came here for, not even close.

Jim sighs heavily.

JH: You said it yourself. You're still champion. What more could you possibly want? If it's to gloat, you can do that on your own time.

MAJ: Gloat, me? Nah, I have more class than that. What I want Jim, what I want is to be treated with some damn respect around here. I want to be treated like the champion I am and not like some after thought playing second fiddle to your self-orchestrated excuse for a #1 contender's match.

With that, Marcus slams the title on Jim's desk, the side plates bearing his name shining brightly under the light. 

MAJ: Imagine my surprise when I get notice that I'm going on second to last. And not just second to last but second to that joke of a Free-1 Final, a final your little tactics made sure to keep me from. But I took that in stride. I decided that winning the #1 contendership for my own title, that made no sense. So I accepted my loss with grace even if it was a match where the victor was predetermined by you anyway. I let that one go, but then tonight, there I was, preparing to battle everyone's favorite fraud of a golden boy, in his title rematch, and I was going on second to last. And then the match happened and I did everything I said I would. I exposed Thompson for everything he is, proving once and for all who the true king is. The bell rang, I had my victory moment, but then I get a referee whisper in my ear that I had to head to the back so they could clear the ring for the main event. The main event...I AM the main event. My title IS the main event. But my victory was cut short as I made my way to the back. That's when this show ended. So as far as I'm concerned, I have no #1 contender because for that match to take place after my main event, it invalidates it. I'm sure the ratings went way down after I left the screen anyway. Because nothing after my arm was raised mattered. Honestly Houston, are you that dumb or just that inept at doing your job that you felt a #1 contender's match deserved to go on last as opposed to the match for the title itself? I'll repeat in case you didn't hear me the first time. I AM the main event. I AM the guy who moves the needle. I AM the one who fills the seats. I AM the attraction people come to see. Like it or not Jim, but I'm the champ and it's about time you start treating me like it...or else.

A few seconds pass before Jim steps in front of his desk, closing the gap between himself and Marcus. To Marcus' surprise, he stands confidently, as a man of power in that position would.

JH: Or what Marcus? If I don't start respecting you, you'll do what?

MAJ: You don't want to know...

Jim smiles, having called Marcus' bluff.

JH: Oh, believe me, I do, I really do.

Marcus and Jim exchange a stern glance before Marcus backs up. He hesitates a few seconds, his back to Jim, before turning around, a smile still on his face. However, its a noticeably less confident one than what he displayed when he first walked in the room.

MAJ: It's not important. The point is, you got what you wanted. But pretty soon, I'm going to get what I want too.

Jim just shakes his head before pushing forward a bit.

JH: You honestly think this is what I wanted? No Marcus, this is the furthest thing from what I wanted. I wanted someone who would put this company on the map, someone who would be the standard bearer, someone who would be the measuring stick. Not someone who shows no regard for the belt, the company or the locker room. But when you won the title, I held my tongue. I raised your arm and watched week in and week out as you made a mockery of everything this company was meant to stand for. Yes, you're the champion, but I won't bow to you or your demands. The second I do, is the second I resign my position because that means I will have failed Freedom Pro Wrestling and I refuse for that to happen.

Marcus fake claps before posturing and adjusting the belt, which is now on his shoulder.

MAJ: Are you done? You wanna get off your soap box now and snap back to reality? Because here's a dose for you. No matter if I wrestle the opener or the closing match, I am always and will always be the main event. You can disrespect me, this belt and by extent your precious little company all you want. But the reality is, I'm the champ, not you, not Thompson, not Azazel and not either of those curtain jerkers you gave the main event to tonight. And nothing or no one will change that fact. Bishop only won the A Block because you made damn sure it wasn't going to be me. And Baker, it doesn't matter what he did in the Free-1. Just like I did with his bitch Elizabeth Karlsson, I'm gonna put Baker down like the pussy he is. And before that, I'm gonna give Azazel the worst loss of his career. And then, Bishop or Clutch McCoward. And when none of those three men can walk let alone wrestle again, their blood and their ended careers, will be on your hands.

Again, a small silence exists between the two, but this time, it is Jim who breaks it.

JH: Keep making your idle threats. You won't hold that belt forever. One day, that hubris will catch up to you. One day, the Invaders will leave your side and you'll be vulnerable. One day, you'll slip up and be outsmarted. And that, that will be the day this company will move forward into the future with pride.

MAJ: Take your best shot Houston. But just remember something, if you're gonna swing at the king, you sure as hell better not miss.

Marcus stands tall but Jim doesn't back down either. Both men stand their ground.

JH: And I hope YOU remember something. This is MY company. You can think you're taking over, but think again. I won't let you taint what the rest of the guys and girls here have worked so hard to build.

Marcus and Jim stare each other down for a few moments before Marcus break the gaze and nods his head, a less than reassuring smirk on his face.

MAJ: You might be a worthy adversary yet.

Marcus laughs coldly as he leaves, slamming the door behind him. Only when Marcus is gone does Jim break his gaze. He takes a long, deep breath before settling back into his work, his eyes glazed over and still fixated on the door, as if waiting for Marcus to return, which he doesn't.

[noname1525]

*The camera follows Dasha Banks as she walks down the hall, headed towards the sounds of laughter headed from a particular locker room. She slowly opens the door and reveals all three members of the Queendom talking and laughing.*

Dasha: "Excuse me ladies. If you don't mind me asking, what exactly do you find so funny?"

The Queendom share a look, smiles still plastered on all their faces.

Thea: "If you must know, we're laughing at Jim Houston. *snickers* When Artemis was signed to FPW, Myra and I knew that if she needed us, we'd be there to assist her in any way we could. But we expected more of  a challenge, we thought we'd have to sneak our way in, that we'd be unwelcome here. But apparently Jim has a better eye for talent than we thought."

Myra: "All it took was one appearance, one invasion, and Jim rolled out the welcome mat. We didn't have to kick down the door like we thought we would, instead, it was opened for us and we were invited in."

Thea: "And now, anything we do here in FPW is Jim Houston's fault, because we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."

Laughter breaks out among the three women again.

Dasha: "While I'm here, could I get your thoughts on the upcoming six-person tag match between you, James Saturn and whichever allies he can find?"

The laughter dies down, although Artemis still has a smirk on her face as she answers.

Artemis: "Do you think we're worried about facing little James Saturn again? Please. We destroyed him at Cruise Control, and it doesn't matter who aids him at The Secret of the Ooze, it will be the same result."

Dasha: "You aren't worried at all about the fact that you have no idea who James' partners would be, and have no way to form a strategy because of that?"

Thea: "Are you kidding me? We've seen the depth of the FPW roster, and outside of two certain wrestlers, Artemis is clearly the best competitor in this entire company. And those other two that might be better than her already have a match on the card, so they can't help him. To put it simply: we win."

The Queendom share a laugh again, before Artemis tells Dasha to get out, slamming the door in her face when she leaves the locker room.

[kingclutch]

*Locker room area (camera is unseen to Clutch)*

Clutch is sitting down, looking downward, as if he is exasperated. Danica Jane comes in from offscreen.

DJ: Is everything okay, Steve?

CM: (laughs) I almost forget that's my name at times. I never really cared much for people calling me Steve, but I always liked when you did. (Danica briefly smiles)

DJ: What's bothering you? Is it the match with Jerry?

CM: No, I won't have a problem with Bishop.

DJ: So what is it?

CM: Since coming back, I've been...inconsistent. Between falling to Azazel and The Invaders....Do I really have what it takes anymore?

DJ: Steve...I know you have what it takes. You are going to beat Bishop, and whether it's Marcus (she says while cringing) or Azazel you will be the FPW Champion. Russ, Richard, and I all have your back. And even if no one else was there for you *she kisses his cheek* I always will be.

[kingclutch]

Backstage. Dasha Banks is with Sir Richard Crowley and Russ Bolt.

DB: Russ, you're coming off a loss to The Invaders along with your friend Clutch McCloud. Definitely not how you want a debut to go, but what was going through your mind?

RB: Adversity is nothing new to me. I've played through injury and pain, and I have come up short a few times...but I rebuild. I analyze what I did wrong and correct it for the future. And Clutch and I will be a force to be reckoned with in FPW. The Invaders better watch out, because the next time we step in that ring with them, the story will be different and the Invaders will be put down. Right here, right now, we're putting the FPW Tag Team Division on notice.

DB: Mr. Crowley, do you have anything to add?

RC: Certainly I do, Miss Banks. The Invaders got lucky, but the next time my clients face them, their luck will run out. The Cloud will _____ and the Bolt will strike...the storm will rage, and the earth will tremble before Clutch McCloud and Russ Bolt. Bar the doors and board your windows but the fury with which these men will come at you with will leave you wanting.

DB: Mr. Crowley, do you have anything to say about Clutch's match against Jerry Bishop?

RC: Ah, yes the man to whom EVERYTHING is a joke.....my client, Clutch McCloud, will have no difficulty dispatching the clown. Then in November, regardless of whether it is Mr. Jones or Azazel that is the champion, Clutch will put them down too. My clients both Mr. McCloud and Mr. Bolt will...be...unstoppable!

DB: Closing thoughts Mr. Crowley, do you have any comment on the seeming relationship between Clutch and Danica Jane?

RC: (with a worried look on his face) No....no I have nothing to say about that (Crowley storms off)

DB: Mr. Bolt do you have any closing thoughts?

RB: Nuthin'. If you will excuse me, I need to go find Clutch before the gates of Hell open.

DB:

[marileeg17]

Somewhere at an FPW House Show...

As soon as the first note of "Cult of Personality" hits, the crowd instantly begins to serenade Marcus with boos before he even comes out through the back. As the curtain opens, Marcus stands tall, soaking in the adulation of all the fans. He smirks at the top of the ramp, championship belt around his waist, before doing his signature standing backflip. Marcus then takes the title off and holds it high in the air which causes the crowd to boo even more. Marcus encourages the boos, making the Hulk Hogan hand to the ear gesture. As he makes his way down the entrance, he sees a fan with a sign that says "#NotMyChampion." Marcus stops and laughs at the fan for a few seconds before taking the sign. He thinks about ripping it up but instead, pulls the Sharpie out from his boot and writes a different message that reads, "The REAL Main Event." Marcus looks back at the fan with a sneer before continuing toward the ring, holding his new sign up proudly.

As the song continues, Marcus makes his way inside the ring, posing on the turnbuckle before doing another backflip down to the mat and landing in a pose a la Will Ospreay. He smiles toward where a few fans have their cell phones out and gives two middle fingers. Marcus finally grabs a mic and stands in the center of the ring. He puts his head down and raises it as he says the words loudly, "AND STILLLLLLLLLLLL!"

The crowd, which never stopped booing, pick up in intensity again. It's not until a few moments later that the crowd finally gets quiet enough that Marcus can speak.

MAJ: Hi boys and girls.

The crowd resume their booing.

MAJ: Boo me all you want but the reality is, I'm not going anywhere. Do you people not follow the E? You've been booing Roman Reigns for years and he's still gracing your televisions every week. Booing me won't make me go away, in fact, it will only make me enjoy my time in front of you that much more. I know you hate me, but that fuels me. That is the fire that has me come out to these stupid shows and wrestle my ass off. Is it worth the pay day? Maybe for some of the indie darlings in the back, but I don't need your money. I don't need you to buy my merch, though clearly so many of you booing my name right now feel the need to. I see those MAJestic shirts. I see the "Bow Down to the King" shirts. I'm not gonna be signing any after the show or standing at a fold out table begging you to buy them, but they exist. On Pro Wrestling Tees. And last I checked they were even outselling the Bullet Club.

Almost as if on cue, the crowd begin a "too sweet, woop woop" chant, which causes Marcus to shake his head in amusement.

MAJ: Such pathetic marks...Now, I didn't come out here to sell t-shirts or talk about your bad taste in wrestlers. I came out here to make a statement of fact. Because see, there's a man around here who thinks he's better than me. Who thinks I'm a regrettable champion who is an embarrassment to the title. He thinks he's going to win the title. But let me be the first to tell those stupid kids in the front row wearing those Baker shirts, that your hero is a piece of shit. He's a garbage wrestler who worked for garbage promotions. Sure he can wrestle a death match but technically, he has nothing on me. And I know what you're thinking. "But Marcus, he won the Free-1." Yeah, but did you see who he beat? A clown, a literal clown. So excuse me for not respecting Graham Baker and his Renegades. Excuse me for not treating him like a credible threat to this, MY FPW Championship!

The crowd boo again.

MAJ: Go on and boo me. Boo the fact that I'm champion and I'm going to be champion until I decide I don't want to be anymore. No one can take this from me. Look what happened to Adam Thompson for even trying. He'll probably never wrestle again. So let me be clear Graham, I don't so much as have a list of opponents I plan to take down, I have a number. A number of bodybags I need to supply because I AM the career ender around here, not you. So have your fun with the hardcore title, that's where you belong. You're not a main eventer. You're not in my league. And you can say all you want about who you've faced and who you've beaten but newsflash, none of those are me. None of those measure up to me. To borrow a line from a friend of mine, "I AM the greatest man that ever lived." And Baker, you're just a man. A man who has the impossible task of facing a king. I don't plan on losing this title. I plan on putting down Clutch and Azazel and Bishop and whoever else steps up thinking they have a chance. And it all leads me to you and the end of the year show. I've got a birthday coming up as you all know and Jim Houston has given me a present. He's given me the chance to beat you and show all these Freedom Fuckers just how much of a fraud you are. So this isn't me looking past my other opponents, it's me saying, one-by-one-by-one I'll beat them all. And then I get to you. And by that time, you'll be without your precious hardcore belt. You'll be fighting for relevancy. You won't make your name off of me though, but there are plenty of bingo halls and armories that I'm sure would take you in. After all, death match wrestling isn't an art, it's a sign of just how stupid you are. You put your body on the line and bleed because you've got nothing else to give these people in terms of actual skill. And soon enough, they'll all see what I see. I'll expose you for the sorry excuse for a wrestler that you are. I'll expose you as someone who should be carrying my bags, someone I'll no doubt be carrying in that ring.

The crowd alternate between booing Marcus and chanting for Baker.

MAJ: Oh, and one more thing. Baker, when its time, bring your friends and I'll bring mine...

Marcus is about to leave the ring but he stops when DNA hits and emerging at the top of the ramp with a huge smile on his face is the one and only Graham Baker!

To be continued...

[The_Aviator_GB]

As Baker steps down the ramp, he has his Hardcore belt strapped around his belt-line as usual, but his gear is slightly different, wearing jeans and boots with a tank-top and his jacket as opposed to his usual ring gear. He steps up to the ring ropes as Marcus is about to step through them, holding them open and stepping inside. He motions for a microphone as he slings his belt over his shoulder, and as one's handed to him, he looks Marcus up and down. He shrugs.


"Marcus Allen Jones. Surprisingly, this is the first time we're meeting in person considering all the shit i've said about you thus far, but I guess i'm not surprised considering that your ego's probably the biggest appendage on your body. I'm not going to dance around what you've said so far, mind you-I know that everyone here has an opinion on how I wrestle, where I used to wrestle, what I used to do for myself and why I'd do it. I know you, like many others, see it as 'garbage'. They see the matches I've had with Jameson, Johnson, Saturn, Dessius, and the one i'm going to have with Storm as 'not real wrestling'. You can say that all you like, that what I do is any less legit than what you do, but at the end of the day, we're both winning matches...and that's all that matters, right? 

I mean, i'm winning matches, at least. I didn't take a single loss through the Free-1. I haven't taken a single loss since I beat MDE back at the All-Star Tag Tournament. You...can't quite say the same, right? Jerry Bishop? Clutch McCloud? I've beaten one of those men and I guarantee you I could easily put away the other. You want to preach about how good you are, Marcus, about how you keep 'getting screwed' and whining like a baby when your Invader buddies can't be at ringside with you, because they're the only way you can contend with anyone with a modicum more of skill than you have. Hell, you even bring them out for matches that you might not need them for too, right? For matches that you can easily win, just in case they get a little heated or you get a little boo-boo but you don't want to drop that precious belt you have?

You're pathetic, Marcus. I've said it everywhere i've gone-on podcasts, in promos, on live television. You're no champion, the only reason you've retained that belt is through luck, interference, and bullshit. Had Davey Jones not killed Azazel at the end of the Free-1 Championship gauntlet, you'd be right on the bottom rung with everyone else. You've paid no dues in this business, you're a fucking kid. You got lucky when Jim Houston offered you a contract and a deal, and i'm sure he's regretted it because you're not worth the paper that contract's printed on. You hold that title like a toy, waving it around screaming 'look at me, look at me, i'm the champion!' but behaving like a fucking toddler. You throw a tantrum every time you come close to losing a match, hell, every time you need to compete. You want to be the man, but you don't want to do the fucking work, kid. 

You, Marcus, are not good enough to carry me, let alone carry this company, on your back. I'm a master technician. I've sparred with Sabre, Starr, Gresham, Brookes, MDE, the list goes on and on and fucking on. Outside of FPW, was there ever a match someone saw and said 'damn, that guy's really gonna make it'? Was there ever one IN FPW? I'll answer you-there wasn't. Whenever I step in the ring, people pay attention. Whenever I tease a feud, the internet lights up much like you'd like it to every time you speak. Whenever I raise a fist toward someone, the crowd cheers, and Marcus, I know you hate that. I know you hate that people love me, a garbage hardcore wrestler who got his start smashing light tubes and kendo sticks over his head, but the truth is, i'm glad, because I hate you. I hate your entitlement, the way you treat that belt, treat Houston, treat the fans. The way you treat this company and everyone in it, like we're all at your beck and cal and just waiting for you to give us our next order, 'yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir' bullshit. 

I hate that no one's been able to put you away. I hate that no one's been able to rip that title from your cold body after they beat the life out of it. I hate turning on my computer and seeing you on the FPW website, your big, ugly fucking smiling face in the top border right next to mine, but most importantly, I hate you. I hate what you stand for, and I hate how you act. I find myself hoping you somehow escape Azazel, and you somehow beat Clutch or Jerry or whoever, just so that I can face you down in the ring in December and put an ending to this sham of a title reign and bring the World Title back to where it belongs-the shoulder of someone who really can bear the burden and carry this fucking company. 

And while i'm doing it, Marcus, i'm going to enjoy every second of it. I'm going to tear you limb from limb in that fucking ring.

So I'll bring my friends, and you can bring yours. You can bring more than your Invader buddies, if you want, because i'll bring as many people as I can to watch me beat your sorry ass. Then, when I break both your arms, your legs, and kick you 'til you can't see straight, I'll help you lay in the arms of your best friends while they carry you down to obscurity, where you belong. 

You'll know what a real champion looks like then.

Baker makes a finger-gun gesture, kissing it and pointing it at Marcus's forehead, whispering 'bang' before he heads for the ropes, allowing Marcus time to make a rebuttal as he feigns leaving. 

[Deleted]

Azazel enters the FPW ring, dressed in a black suit, microphone in hand, pacing around.

Everyone is talking about Graham Baker versus Marcus Allen Jones.. everyone is treating that match like it's set in stone. Like it's destiny. 

Listen closely Marcus. Your destiny isn't to succeed in defending that championship at the finale. It's not even to make it to the finale. You see, your destiny goes hand in hand with mine. My path of destruction only leads to the FPW championship. I've destroyed everyone here, decimated dozens. For one year I have yet to be able to secure a one on one championship match..

Azazel turns to the audience and yells.

BUT I WILL NOT BE DENIED! WE WILL NOT BE IGNORED! THEY CAN'T HOLD US BACK ANY LONGER!

The crowd cheers and Azazel sits cross legged in the center of the ring.

Marcus.. October is the season of the witch. And come this witching season, darkness will consume FPW. Your hourglass will finally run out. It's your destiny.

The crowd chants "Azazel".

The people of FPW have spoken! They want a revolution! They want the power to go back to them! Your little TakeOver doesn't scare me, because this? This is the real takeover.

I've had two losses here. A near perfect record. And each loss came from the interference of Davey Jones. But he's gone now. The Night has consumed that demon and now I have only one left to conquer on my odyssey to the top. The end is coming, Marcus. And no one.. not even your TakeOver.. can save you from the Night. 

At Secret of the Ooze, you will fade to black. 

[marileeg17]

As the crowd continue to cheer "Fade to Black!" Marcus, leant against the ropes, fakes a yawn, before holding up his mic.

MAJ: Are you finished, are you BOTH finished? Good. Because the king always gets the last word so let me tell you both how it’s going to go.

Azazel, you should know, I have more respect for you than most guys here. Your undefeated streak was legit. As are the losses you sustained. Including the one to me! What’s it you just said Baker? “At the end of the day, we’re winning matches and that’s all that matters?” That might be the most intelligent thing you’ve ever said in your brain damaged life. That is ALL that matters and anyone who thinks differently is a fool.
You can question my methods but I get the damn job done. That's why I'm up here and both of you are down there, desperate for your shot at the king.

The fans begin to boo Marcus, but he just ignores them and turns to his two opponents. He looks back and forth among the two men before settling his gaze on Azazel.

MAJ: Azazel, my next opponent, you say that this championship is your destiny. You say that it’s the season of the witch and the Night is coming. Ooh, spooky! But let me tell you something, this isn’t Halloween. You may put your attire on and think of it as a costume, but for me, this is who I am. I AM a professional wrestler and one of the finest you’ll ever come across in your entire career. But you already know that. After all, I was the one who beat you to end your precious streak. And I’m not too proud to admit I had some help. But I’m also not going to hide the fact that help aside, I outsmarted you. And when we face each other next, I’m going to out wrestle you too. See, you say no one can save me from the Night but I’m the Night King. You’re one hell of a wrestler but I’m better. And come the end of our match, my night will be the one worth celebrating.

Marcus paces the ring a bit before turning back around to Graham Baker.

MAJ: Oh Graham, you are quite the talker. Quite the trash talker which really shouldn’t surprise me given the kind of garbage wrestling you are known for. And if it was a battle of words you wanted, I could stand toe-to-toe with you any place, any time. But see, unlike you, I let my wrestling do my talking for me. That’s why I’m the champ and you’re not. You think I hate that this crowd loves you? I don’t hate that at all. I just wonder how they could be so idiotic but after all, they are a bunch of losers who live in their parents' basements. Cue the boos!

Again, the crowd boo, just as Marcus had expected.

MAJ: It is really too easy with you people.

Wrestling is about getting a reaction and I get exactly the one I want every time I come out here. I don’t need a “Let’s go Marcus/Marcus sucks” chant to motivate me. I don’t need fans clapping to give me a second wind. Unlike MDE, who damn well cost himself the Free-1, never for one second have I thought, “maybe just maybe, I need and want this crowd’s respect.” Because I don’t. You might. You might need them, thrive on them even, but I’m capable of being the best wrestler in the world without them, so I guess that’s just one more way I’m better than you.

Baker, you can say all you want about my questionable ethics, about my lack of integrity, about the way I go about my business. But at the end of the day, I win matches. At the end of the day, I won the match that counted the most and while I was doing that, where were you? Oh, that’s right, when I was becoming world champion, you were smashing light tubes and getting staples put in your head, and for what? For a stupid, midcard hardcore championship. Congratulations, really. You won the belt I never even cared to know existed. That’s where you belong. So how about you stay in your lane before you embarrass yourself trying to get into mine?

You’re no different than Thompson and the outcome of our match will be no different either. You seem to think you’ll be saving this company of me, like you’re the guy to bring this title back to prominence. Thompson thought the same thing and now look at him. You claim you have the shoulders to carry this company into the future? Funny, that’s exactly what Adam said, before I took those shoulders and dislocated them from their sockets.

Marcus pauses as he turns to look at both Azazel and Baker.

MAJ: Everyone here wants to make these claims and yet no one backs them up. I’m the champion, so instead of complaining how I’m not worthy of that title, how about you BOTH man up and do something about it!

Marcus takes a step back, holding his arms out, the championship back around his waist.

MAJ: Go on boys. Take your best shot! Just remember, as I said before and I'll say it again, if you swing at the king, you sure as hell best not miss!

To be continued…

[Deleted]

Marcus Allen Jones stands in the ring with his eyes closed, holding his title up. Graham Baker & Azazel look at him before each other. Marcus grins and yells “I don’t have all day”. Azazel quickly hits him with a roundhouse kick! Marcus slowly gets up, using the ropes to help himself but Azazel hits him with the Night! The crowd chants “Azazel” as Azazel picks up the FPW championship before looking at Baker and neatly setting it in the center of the ring. Azazel leaves the ring and his music hits. Marcus lies in the ring, out cold.