Episode 1 Promo Card

[Deleted]

On August 20th I will have the chance to defeat not one, not two, but three competitors. I promise you that I will swiftly defeat all of them and send them packing home.

Strong style will rise.

The north will rise.

Erick Skaar will rise.

[Davey Jones]

Camera fades in on a ship, with a guy standing at the bow, in tradition pirate's cloths, eye patch over left eye, sword seathed on the right.

Davey: Welcome, mateys, to my ship, the Iron Maiden. See, i've been plunderin' and takin' for so long, that being out on the seas don't thrill me any more. Name's too feared now. Arrr, I just get what I want if I just show up... No challenge any more. 

Davey walks to the port side, where there's a door that he enters. In it, a picture of various 1970s - early 1990s wrestlers are hung.

Davey: Arrrr.... This be another one of my loves... It's what brought me to Freedom Pro Wrestling.... I want to be the best. Which makes me ask, who is this Jerry Bishop guy? Is he someone that wants to pretend to be noble?

Davey laughs, draws his sword. Turning, he whips it at the wall, where it sticks, but between the eyes of a picture... Picture of Bishop

Davey: So I get this putrid false nobleman? Fine... I'll take your dignity, like I take gold out here on the seas, and I'll gain my spot atop the throne where I belong!

[marileeg17]

All of the members of Freedom Pro Wrestling roster are standing at the top of the ramp following Jim Houston's introduction. Well, all but one. That's when Cult of Personality hits and the Chicago crowd gt to their feet, going absolutely batshit crazy for what they think is going to happen. However, as the music dies down, it's not CM Punk who walks through the curtain but rather Marcus Allen Jones. Marcus laughs as he takes in the disappointed faces of the audience, even going so far as to mock them by gesturing to it being "clobberin' time" as he struts down the entrance ramp, an obvious air of arrogance to him. Marcus rolls into the ring and grabs a mic, surveying each of the talent he'll soon be made to face.

Marcus Allen Jones (smirking broadly): Swerved ya'll didn't I?

The crowd begin to boo.

MAJ: Oh please. If Phil came back to wrestling it wouldn't be in some small promotion in this dump of a city that I have the displeasure of having to call home. You all know that. And yet, that glimmer of hope that maybe just maybe your hero was walking through that curtain. Oh man, I should have come out with a camera because I'll never forget the disappointment in your faces. You marked out hard. Or should I see, you Me'd out hard. Get it? Me'd out? Because my name is... Oh nevermind, you're not worth my humor and wit. Truth me told, you're not worth me being here. But, since I am and since I see this fine cast of characters, this eclectic bunch to say the least, standing on that ramp, allow me to do what I do best.

(turning to face the ramp) Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages. My name is Marcus Allen Jones but you can call me Mark for short. I see, you all run quite the spectrum of gimmicks. Certainly makes for an interesting promotion. (In a pirate accent) Will the clown (Bishop) beat the pirate who stole my last name (Jones) and then sail the mighty seas with him? Hopefully, because then both of them will go away. Will the MMA fighter (Johnston) have successful crossover appeal? Chicago would like to see it given Phil didn't.

Again, the crowd boos, louder than before.

MAJ: I thought Prince William was the rightful king of England but maybe this poser will prove to be a usurper. Adam's rebellion anybody? I mean, the guy does call himself a penisdragon, oh I'm sorry, pendragon. Maybe the two kings, the other being this Steve fellow, will clash for the right to be King of Smarks. Has a nice ring to it. Shame that there are no kings, especially those who consider themselves to be like Tim Freakin' Tebow. Hey you, big scary dude (turns to Sabre), I've heard stories about your Inner Circle. Cool stable name, shame it's more like an Inner Circle Jerk if you ask me. Is your motto, "Vince McMahon likes big sweaty men" because it should be. And you, (turns to Zeke), I could have sworn I've seen your gimmick before. I can't quite place it but I'm sure it will come to me...outta nowhere. And you, guy with the fur coat (turns to Skaar), what the hell is Norwegian Strong Style? Oh wait I know. It's cross country skiing right? I mean, that's all Norway is good for isn't it? Let Uncle Marcus give you some advice, if Japanese strong style ain't getting over in the states, your version sure is hell is gonna miss the mark. Then there's Dean Ambrose meets Lucha Underground guy (turns to Dessius). I mean, at least there is some originality there. I bet you're gonna use that necklace in a No DQ match, am I right? I'm probably right. Marky Mark is always right. Justice Legal, oh boy now there's a name. Gotta watch out for the swift arm of the law with this one. And back to gimmicks not getting over, you've got Dr. Frankenstein (turns to the Mad Scientist) over here. I don't even really know where to begin so I'll begin at the end, the end of your career that is. Good luck creating your super beast. Bet that's a great storyline during sweeps months. Boring tag team I'll only face in a 6-man, (the Hardcases), second boring tag team (Anarchy) I'll only face in a 6-man, women (Athena and Freja), and on to my favorites, the good and evil twins. 

(Turns to face Azazel and Azrael) So, let me get this straight, because I can't be the only one confused by you two. So your gimmick is a fallen angel (Azazel) and yours is the devil's favorite demon (Azreal)? Oh wait, that's not right. But, I could really care less. I'm facing one of you in my debut match and whoever that might be, I'm going to win. Why do you ask and how do I know that? It's not some divine prophecy I'll tell you that much. I'm going to win, because the marks, they always win. So whether its the guy who thinks he's Shawn Michaels, ziplining to the ring. Which, every time really? Talk about overkill. Save that for the PPVs will ya. Or if its the devil himself. Or if its any one of you on that ramp. The basket case, the princess, the athlete, the criminal, the brain... Sooner or later, you'll all find out why Marcus Allen Jones is, get this Chicago crowd, the REAL Best in the World. Now, monkeys in the truck, play me out will ya?

Cult of Personality hits again and Marcus sings along mockingly as he walks back up the ramp and to the back, dozens of pairs of eyes following him and most looking really annoyed. 

[Deleted]

Static is seen on the screen. Then we hear groans and screams and Kendo Stick shots. The static finally goes away and we see a Boiler Room with plenty of Kendo Sticks. Then a man gets thrown right in front of the camera and Edward Dessius appears right behind him and says

Edward Dessius: I'M HERE...I'M FUCKING HERE...AND NOBODY IS GONNA COME OUT ALIVE...EVEN IF THEY'RE ALSO A PERSON WHO BELIEVES THAT ALL FORMS OF PAIN SHOULD BE LEGAL, AND THAT IT IS JUSTICE IF YOU INFLICT IT ON ANOTHER MAN WHO ATTEMPTED TO DESTROY YOUR FUCKING LIFE. EVEN IF IT IS YOUR FUCKING PARENTS... 

Edward picks up the camera and throws it. The glass cracks but it's still recording Edward beating up the person. He notices it still recording then picks up a Kendo Stick and hits the camera as if the Kendo Stick is a baseball bat. The camera stops recording after it, and the segment ends.

[Deleted]

The scene opens to Justice Legal sitting on a beaten up wooden chair, leaning on a very frail, dog collar around his neck, the chain dangling to the floor.

Legal: Finally, the broken man we all known as Azazel, has finally spoken. For some reason, he accepted my challenge, which to me is very interesting considering I have eaten bigger things for breakfast than his small, frail, and broken body. It seems to me that even though the bravery of Azazel has led him to accept my challenge, that Freedom Pro Management may not want to see me destroy him so very quickly. Apparently I will have to beat the shit out of two more people before I get my hands on the puppet, Azazel.

Legal kicks one of the table legs, causing the frail table to fall to the ground, a loud noise as two more of the frail legs fall off.

Legal: Oh, what a great representation of the current situation, there are four of us, and four legs on this beautiful masterpiece of a table. Three of them have just fallen off, which directs me to believe that on August 20th in Chicago, I will be the only man with a leg to stand on. Azazel, hear me when I say, these two puppets that management have thrown in my way, will have zero effect on me before I come out and dismantle you later that night! We're coming upon the date, and I can smell the fear in you, be prepared little man, I'm coming to feast on your drawn blood.

The scene closes as Legal stands up and walks away, the clinging of the dog collar chain heard as he walks away and out of frame. 

[Deleted]

The scene is set. A clergy of media gaggles in front of a table raised on a platform. Jeremiah Johnson sits in the middle of the table, microphones beckoning his voice, flashes of camera caressing his face. He lifts a hand from his gray trousers; over his gray coat and white shirt; his hand adjusts the red tie that's admonishing his neck. He speaks with stones, "Yes it's true everyone. You heard right. I'm making the jump to professional wrestling. I've given this a lot of thought," he adjusts himself in his seat, "and I've reached the apex of my Mixed Martial Arts career. It's time to focus my efforts in another competitive environment."

He smiles. He waits. The cameras caress. "I'll know open the floor to any questions you might have."

The reporters know which of them will be called on to ask questions. This is the body. He points to a blond woman with hair that hasn't changed in two decades, "Yes, Marla."

"Marla Madison, Sports Enthusiast Magazine. What are some of the trials that you've faced in preparing for your first match?"

He pretends to think by stroking his beard. The show, as they say. This is the blood. "Well I've doubled down on my training time. I've focused a lot more on my mat work than in my past cage fighting matches. Not to say that my striking isn't up to par; it's just that the extra training time has gone to a lot of wrestling holds," he points to another reporter.

The reporter stands up, a thin man with a slender chin and fading brown hair, "Dave Spritzer, for the Spritzer Report. You've got a triple threat match coming up while most of the other wrestlers have a singles match. Have you ever done something like that in the Mixed Martial Arts world?"

Johnson smiles, his reassuring confidence resonating through his eyes, "Before my professional career started, I had to fight every day of my life. Growing up in Lower East Village isn't easy. I've fought more than one guy on many occasions. There's a championship on the line this time, though. And you know that when there's a championship involved I never stop giving it my best," he sweats, his once relaxed hands ball into fists, his tone becomes slightly condescending, "maybe you're not familiar with my work, Spritzer, but I've been through the gauntlet. Before my professional record started I fought in bars and basements around the world. Most of these were tournaments where people didn't care if you died or lost. I've fought as many as 8 men in one night. But the World MMA Commission isn't going to recognize underground fights. My record would have a lot more wins on it if it did," he calms down, he winks at Spritzer, they've rehearsed this.

"I'll take one more question. You."

He points at a plump man in an ill fitting suit, a baseball cap and thin rimmed glasses, "Yes, thank you. QC Quebec, WrestleCap TV."

"WrestleCap?"

"Yes, WrestleCap, it's like a Night Cap of Wrestling."

Johnson waves him on, "Continue, please, Mr. Quebec."

"Well it seems to me that you've got your work cut out for you. Sabre is a bonafide indie pro and McCloud is God's Gift to Wrestling. What do you think about being, at least on paper, the wrestling underdog in the match?"

Johnson puppy turns his head while staring at the plump man, "Underdog?" The reporters giggle slightly, "I'm 22 and 2 and you callin' me the underdog?" His tough roots accent slips out, "Let me tell you something about Sabre. He's a force to be reckoned with for sure, but he hasn't been hit by these fists, he hasn't been wrapped up in one of my submissions. If Sabre tries anything sneaking I'll knock 'is ass out OR I'll tie him up and break his limbs, his choice," Johnson stares up and to the left, "and Clutch McCloud. I told him that nobody wants that gift and I'm going to return him to his sender, but he really wants to step in the ring with me, then I'll knock his ass out too. I'll tie him and Sabre up together and break their bones at the same time. They don't realize that whatever ring I'm in becomes my ring. I'm not stepping into their world; they're coming in to mine. I'm not some two-bit flash in the pan. I'm Jeremiah Johnson...Come Get Me!"

Johnson gets up out of his seat. He poses for the cameras for a few minutes after the microphones are cut off.