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 Posted: Tue Sep 12, 2017 2:07 pm
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START SPREADIN' THE NEWS
IM LEAVIN' TODAY
I WANT TO BE A PART OF IT...
NEW YORK
NEEWWW YORK
THESE VAGABOND SHOES
ARE LONGING TO STRAY
RIGHT THROUGH THE VERY HEART OF IT
NEW YORK
NEW YORK
I WANNA WAKE UP
IN A CIIIITYYY THAT DOESN'T SLEEP
AND FIND IM KING OF THE HILL
TOP OF THE HEAP
Suddenly, Frank Sinatra interrupted the goings on of the night's Octane action, causing a frenzy in the crowd which were shocked to hear the abrupt return of a man whom no one ever liked, ever. "New York, New York" was his signal to go as from the back appeared the Owner and CEO of Midnight Marauders International, Nicky Delabonte Jr.! The small crooner was clad in a solid white suit with a golden tie and his usual messy blonde hair, blood shot yellow eyes, and broken apart black teeth. He seemed super happy, more than ever before, like a man without problems or some s**t. Nicky shot out finger guns at each and every person in the front row, saying things like 'yeah!' and 'alright!' each time, with only the highest amount of confidence. Reaching the ring, the 24 year old geriatric ascended the steps like an angel to his cloud and slipped into the ring like the snake he was, leaping about in the ring like a retard before finally grabbing a microphone from the ringside assistant. He danced some more to his music while being serenaded with boos by the local crowd. As Frank Sinatra died down, Nicky brought the microphone up to his mouth.
"...I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! WOO! I'M BACK! I'M BACK! WOO! WOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
Nicky ripped away his suit jacket and threw it the ground, continuing to woo as he did so. He started running the ropes as fast as his alcohol and tobacco poisoned lungs would allow him to, all the way until he hit about two miles per hour. Finally he stopped and dropped a major elbow on his jacket, the fans booing his clear gimmick infringement. He stayed on the ground as Frank Sinatra began to play again, starting to do the worm to the swinging classic. Several women made their way out from backstage in classic Vegas style burlesque clothing and joined Nicky in the ring, standing around him to act as his background dancers. With the help of one of the dancers, Nicky got back up clutching his chest...but he quickly revealed that it was all a ruse! He was fine! Everyone BOUGHT IT! Even his immediate family, hilarious! As "New York, New York" hit it's climax, Jim Ross and Justin Roberts entered the ring, locking arms with Nicky and then with the women who'd joined them in the ring. They all began to viciously form a kickline, bringing their legs up at full speed and then slamming their feet back down with each kick. It was nothing short of amazing, but as the song closed, they all dispersed, leaving Nicky breathing hard in the ring alone with the microphone once more. He produced from his back pocket a flask and took a long chug before returning his previously scheduled return promo.
"Listen, alright, at Wrestlemania, during the Money in the Bank Ladder Match, I am sure most of you remember when I was pulled into the crowd by an unidentified large Russian man, and never seen again. Well, I'm happy to report that I was seen again, right now, and that I was able to work out my problems with the Russians and pay them back the money that was owed to them by the former owners of Midnight Marauders International,
thus allowing me to return to the states and my job as the CEO! What was the first thing I would do when I came back, you may ask? Well, the answer is...seventeen year old strippers and a line of coke in the back room of Club Marauder in Brooklyn! HEYYYYY NOW! I'LL BE ON THE HOWARD STERN SHOW NEXT WEEK! WE'RE TALKING SEX AND BLOW, ALCOHOL AND SEPTEMBER 11TH, MY d**k SIZE, AND MORE! CHECK IT OUT ON SIRIUS XM CHANNEL 100. Though the second thing I did after all that sex and cocaine, was sign a new group of individuals to Midnight Marauders International. Possibly the greatest group of human beings in the history of this planet, a conglomeration of some of the best names wrestling has to offer, and only the best that can make MMI, and themselves, a lot. of. cash. I'm going to tell you now, if you've got children under the age of six or have sight problems, you're probably going to want to avert your eyes from the following. We're not responsible for any damage that you may suffer. Apple, Under Armour, Marvel Comics, Nickelodeon, Five Hour Energy, Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ Sauce, Neil F. Sexton Law Firm, World Video Erotic Rentals, Popeye's, and Midnight Marauders International, invite you to enjoy...the greatest EXPERIENCE of all time!"
Nicky ducked off to the side with an arm extended out to the ramp, fans booing his stupid presentation but holding out reservations for what he could be introducing them to. |
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Posted: Tue Sep 12, 2017 2:23 pm
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Search lights on the stage illuminate, waving back and forth around the arena not unlike that of an award show red carpet event. No music plays, but the sounds of people gossiping and whispering unintelligibly. The whispering gets louder as the lights move faster, and faster, and faster. A guitar riff in the background is heard, and it grows in strength rapidly as well. The riff peaks, and everything goes silent, the lights go dark. The arena is pitch black, and the audience sits there for a long moment.
…
…
…
High beam LED headlights pierce the darkness, blinding the camera. The search lights come back on to light up the arena once again. On the stage is a Lamborghini Aventador Stretch Limousine, revving its engine as “Believer” by Imagine Dragons starts to play over the sound system. The limo slowly rolls down the ramp, loudly, obnoxiously, revving it’s 700 horsepower engine, and large, glittering, crackling pyros ignite off the ramp as the limo passes them. It parks with the bumper just ever so gently kissing the apron, and the sun roof opens up. A red carpet rolls from the opening, down the roof and hood of the limo, until it reaches the apron of the ring. A blinding beam of light shines from the sun roof, making it difficult to look at the entrance.
Rising from the sun roof with a hydraulic lift, is the man known the world over as Mike Landry, decked out in a top of the line custom pin stripe suit, with pin stripes made of rows and rows of diamonds. The camera man zooms in on the shimmering diamonds, and it can make out the small letters that make up the pin stripes spelling out “You Wish You Were Me”. He’s wearing custom sun glasses, the lenses of which are playing a loop of Landry’s greatest career highlights like a mini television screen. The fans look up as they notice something falling down from above, and they see they are rose petals falling into the ring. Landry walks down the red carpet over the car, and into the ring, stepping on the falling rose petals so never to actually touch the ground.
Behind him, another man rises up through the sun roof from the hydraulic lift, and it’s Jason Byers, dressed above the nines in a custom-tailored suit made of hundreds of hundred dollar bills sewn together, and custom shoes made of recycled gold coins. His wrist watch is a solid disk of gold with diamond studs to represent the numbers, the clasp of the watch is made of baby seal leather. Several female hands are reaching up through the sun roof, tugging at Byer’s pants, begging him to come back into the limousine. Byers follows down the red carpet, and into the ring behind Landry.
Finally, a third man emerges through the light shining from the sun roof, the notorious Kelly King. He’s dawning his most ostentatious attire yet, starting with a massive gold crown, jam packed with various precious gems. Flowing behind him is a decadent robe as long as the limousine, attached to a chain-mail shirt with gemstone fasteners. On each finger of each hand, a different, massive gemstone ring, along with the same fingerless gloves he’s worn his entire career. In his hand is Scepter, massively upgraded. A solid silver ore handle with inlaid diamonds leading up to a solid block as platinum that now makes up the hammer’s head, encrusted with rubies. King takes his time walking regally down the red carpet, before finally arriving in the ring.
The three men pose together in the ring with their manager, Nicky Delabonte Jr., spotlights shining on them, creating a painful glare for those looking directly at them. Pyros go off on each corner post for what seems like an uncomfortable amount of time, until it finally dies down and the lights go out, the music dies down, and the scene returns to normal, for the most part.
Landry presses a button on the side of his head, which is revealed to be a headset microphone. The crowd it a mix of boos from the ridiculous amounts of excess the trio is flaunting, to those who are chanting “Welcome Back!”. Landry sits there and waits for a moment to speak, hands folded in his lap with a stern look on his face, at least that’s what anyone can see behind those glasses, still showing career highlights on loop.
“No no no…please…allow me to welcome YOU back…to MONDAY NIGHT OCTANE!” Landry begins, which elicits a pop from the crowd, before he holds up his palm to signal the crowd to quiet down. “I can say that…because when we were gone, this show, ceased to exist in the collective consciousness of the truly enlightened professional wrestling aficionado. In fact, I might as well welcome you back…to professional wrestling as a whole. It has been a loooong time since we have stepped inside a professional wrestling ring. In fact, I’d like to point out, that this is the FIRST TIME EVER…that “Diamond” Mike Landry, “Made of Money” Jason Byers, and “The One True King,” Kelly King, have EVER…been in the same ring…at the same time. We should be charging every single one of you in attendance, and each of the BILLIONS watching at home, a premium fee just to see this segment of the show. Out of the KINDNESS OF OUR HEARTS, we are giving it away FOR FREE! FREE! Can you believe that? You are all WELCOME. You’re so welcome. This is our gift to you! Please, enjoy it. Go one, take it in…” Landry pauses and the three pose for a few more moments to allow the now overwhelmingly booing audience.
“It’s okay, we understand, you don’t want us to consider ALL of our financial opportunities which would come at your, very reasonable, expense. And although we’d be completely JUSTIFIED to air our televised segments on HBO or Pay Per View, as we have been offered prior to debuting, we have decided to keep our segments free, because we love you little people. We really do. It’s true! We love you. Shhhhh, we know you’re not worthy, it’s okay. Really, but please, calm down, we have EVEN MORE exciting news to announce. You see, we are giving you MORE than the gift of our presence. We are giving you something…BACK. You see, we have sat in our multi-billion dollar homes after very long, successful, lucrative careers both inside the ring and out, watching this product known as ‘professional wrestling’ that we love so much…go down the drain. We’ve seen it devolve as the men whose hand we left it in, allowed it to shrivel up into a shapeless, disgusting, putrid, unrecognizable shell of its former self. Professional wrestling, the sport that we loved, the sport that we bled for, the one we broke our bodies for, the sport in which we sacrificed our humanity to take hundreds of men’s lives in our hands…and swiftly, and decisively broke them in half…is dead.” Landry paused and removed his high-tech shades, looking straight into the camera.
“But we…The Experience, are here to rectify that situation. We are going to, with all biblical implications intended, take our beloved business, our child…and bring it back from the dead, and raise it up to higher glory than it had ever imagined before. I’m not talking about a “New Golden Age” of wrestling…I’m talking about the FIRST… “Diamond Age of Professional Wrestling”. A Diamond Age, lead there, and DOMINATED by, the Top Percentiles of Male Athletes you see in the ring before you. Mike Landry, the Twenty-Time World Champion. Kelly King, the Seventeen-Time World Champion. Jason Byers, the SEXIEST man alive and the most MERCILESS man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Us three together, backed by the financial and influential power of MIDNIGHT MARAUDERS INTERNATIONAL, are going to not only dominate this sport and bring it back to, and beyond its former glory, but we are going to do it…undefeated. We are untouchable. Unbreakable. Unstoppable. You can’t trick us, out speed us, over power us, or intimidate us. We are going to burn the record books, and re-write them to suit our vision. We are going to make EVERYTHING better, because only WE CAN. You can trust us…we are speaking…from Experience. Now...Start the Clock.”
[Interruptions are welcome]
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Posted: Tue Sep 12, 2017 10:34 pm
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Posted: Wed Sep 13, 2017 5:17 pm
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Landry wasn't angry, he was more...sobered by the antics going on before his eyes. He watched as a clearly mentally broken Freakshow thinking he was some combination of DDP and Simon Dean, parade himself down the ramp and into the ring. He wasn't exactly sure if Freak was just drunk or high on coke or mentally ill or some combination of the three, but he felt something he had never felt before. Landry felt sorry for his old rival Freakshow, the man that had caused him SO much grief.
The irony was not lost on Landry, Freak's choice of move: The Diamond Cutter. Mike grabbed hold of Freak and stopped the maneuver from finishing, rolling his eyes. 'Haha. Diamond Cutter, cuz I'm Diamond Mike Landry, I get it,' he thought to himself.
Landry didn't particularly want to hurt Freakshow, despite everything he'd done to him and his family, but he also felt the need to set an example. No one makes a fool of The Experience. No exceptions. Even for brain damaged old fools. Landry would try to turn Freak around and hoist him up onto his shoulders in a firemans carry, before trying to slam him all the way back down in a Powerbomb, Landry's classic Firebomb.
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Posted: Sat Sep 16, 2017 10:46 pm
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