LC
Can thou not hearest? Let me turneth it up!
Joined: Mon Sep 29, 2003 3:37 am Posts: 12760 Location: Canadalina
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Havoc: Strikmore vs KID (with Mr. Acceptable)
<center> Strikmore vs KID (with Mr. Acceptable) At Friction KID formed an alliance with his brother, JE, and mentor, Mr. Acceptable, while Strikmore was beaten to a pulp by Drakus. It's unsure at this point if Strikmore is even cleared to wrestle this match! </center>
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Matt Strikmore
Too much time on my hands
Joined: Sat Jun 03, 2006 4:26 pm Posts: 1287
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Manny: How's it going, Matt?
Matt: Tired as hell. How about you, buddy?
Manny: Hauling cable, as exciting as it ever was. Haven't seen you around lately? Been sick?
Matt: Nah. Stern has me running from photo session to radio interview and back again. Given the option, probably rather be sick.
Manny: What's the matter? Don't like the bright lights and the free bottled water?
Matt: It's nice some days. Some days, I'd rather be hauling cable, you know?
Manny: I getcha, buddy. I think they're ready for you other there.
Matt: Thanks, Manny. Give Gloria my love.
Manny: Be careful what you say, she may come collecting.
*The two laugh as Matt walks toward the canvas chair in front of the camera. Matt's gotten to know most of the road crew for TCW. His Dad always instilled a respect for the blue collar class. He had a point, Matt decided. If things go badly, do you really think you'll be asking some thin guy in a suit to help you?*
*Matt crashes into the seat, the wooden frame creaking. He puts his hands out and steels his face for a second until he's sure the chair isn't going to fall apart beneath him. He puts his bag across his lap and pulls out his belts, tossing his Transcontinental over his right shoulder, and his Tag over his left. Tossing the bag aside, he looks around at the crew, who he finds are looking at him.*
Matt: What? Did Manny tell you I wore all the time?
Manny (from the back): No! Just in your hotel room!
Matt: Oh. Well, carry on then.
*They all share a laugh.*
Matt: Alright, alright. Go ahead and hit it, Tom.
*Matt lets all the joking go, and concentrates on his job. His job? How long has he been calling it that. Red light is on. Time to go.*
Matt: If you're watching this, then you already know who I am, but humor me. Some days, I need to hear it from myself to make it real. I'm Matt Strikmore. I'm the TCW Majestic Cup winner. I'm the current TCW Transcontinental Champion. I'm one half of the TCW Tag Team Champions. You killed my father, prepare to die.
Matt: Sorry about that last part. Couldn't resist.
Matt: If you caught Friction last week, you know I've got a bit of rough road ahead of me. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't intimidating. I'm a worrier. It's what I do. It pays lousy. At Endgame, I have two matches, one for each shoulder. DeSean and I take on the New City Saints, and then I get a drink of water before I finally get a one on one match with Drakus. Honestly, the whole thought of it makes me tired. I've got Louis Vuitton knocking on my door looking to sponsor the bags under my eyes. As much as I'd like to get all that off my chest, that'd disrespect the guy I'm here to talk about. The guy I face this week, KID.
Matt: KID, I really don't have much to say to you. I'm just being honest here. I've got a little bit of history with your brother, having met him in the Majestic Tourney. But you? You and I haven't crossed. Now, I really do hope this can be one of those "lets shake hands" kind of things. Civil and fun, and we all go home happy. Most people here choose to go the other route. That's their call. My win/loss record says they made the wrong one. I guess we'll find out what's going to happen when I put out my hand. Either shake it, and we make the crowd go nuts. Or smack it away, and I remind everyone that I'm not Matt Strikmore by accident. That there's a reason I have two titles on my shoulders, and that after Endgame, they'll be just as as shiny.
Matt: Take care, KID. I'm looking forward to it.
*The red light goes off, and Matt slouches a bit. He shrugs the belts off his shoulders and into his lap. They're heavier than they look.*
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