Post by Camisado on Sept 19, 2007 21:16:53 GMT -5
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Date: Monday, August the Twenty-Fourth, 2007
Time: 10:14 PM
Location: Monday Night Rampage
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Disgusted, Camisado is seen sitting backwards atop a black, padded steel chair, in a small, nearly empty room just outside the Monday Night Rampage arena. And although it was happening live just twenty yards from where he sat, he chose to watch the action on a small, less than fifteen-inch television screen, which was only mere inches from his torn face.
He continued to watch as "The" Ross Walker bad-mouthed the entire FWF, though his main target was the Rampage roster. He claimed that Rampage had lost great prestige since his retirement just over a month ago, especially in the Heavyweight World Title scene, as Oswald Brodd and The Devil were currently battling for the belt, though Brodd was now out of the picture since Ross had recently attacked him and put Oswald out of commission for a bit of time. Ross never stopped ripping on the Rampage roster, claiming that there was nobody there that proved to be a challenge for him, and that he was the only person that deserved that belt.
His ignorance worked against him at times, and this time was a prime example as Ross was unaware of Rampage's newest addition to the roster. Camisado was ready to shove Ross' words straight back down his throat. Ross called out a challenger, anyone who thought they could ever deserve to take that belt away from him. Camisado slowly stood up, though he was beat to the punch by what he thought was a joke.
In mere seconds, Ross pinned the supposed "Hardcore Monster", badday, and grinned evilly from ear-to-ear, as if that quick pinfall meant something. As this ended, Camisado seemingly knew what was to come next, as he threw the chair backwards, between his legs, and quickly left the room, now sprinting the short distance of twenty yards between the room and the entrance to the stage of the arena. As he ran, Ross' voice echoed throughout the entire building:
.↓|"The" Ross Walker|↓|:.
There are no credible challengers to my title! Not here, not on Live-Wire, not anywhere! Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, could ever compare to me! Furthermore, nobody in FWF has the guts to challenge me!
As Ross muttered his last word, Camisado burst through the entrance almost instantly, and "Wake Up" began to play as the crowd, now mostly on their feet, cheering, screaming, and clapping, got their first look at Camisado in a Rampage arena since the roster split over a year ago. He slapped a few hands of his caring and loyal fans as he kept his focus upon the dirty man in the ring, "The" Ross Walker. He soon slid into the ring and grinned at the enormously angered Walker, wasting no time to get to the point.
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
Excuse me? What's this I hear about guts? If I'm not mistaken, it was my guts that enabled me to win the Jealousy tournament this year. It was my guts that got me that belt that you're holding. It was my guts...
.↓|"The" Ross Walker|↓|:.
that were spread across the ring last time the two of us faced off. Get the hell out of my ring.
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
I'll get out of the ring. But before I do..
Camisado wastes no time, quickly raising his arm, his hand flat, and slaps Ross straight across the face. With Ross displaying a disgusted look whilst rubbing the spot in which he was slapped, "Numb" is heard, though the scene fades.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Date: Sunday, September the Sixteenth, 2007
Time: 11:02 PM
Location: Sunday Night Showdown!: Edition 4, UCW Arena
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
"The" Ross Walker is seen in front of a door marked "The Meds". His mouth is seen moving, along with several hand gestures, though nothing is heard. He tilts his head back as if he were laughing, and pushes the door open, only to see James Bohne, the newest member or Ross' team at the Collision Pay-Per-View, stomping away at Bert Ritalin, a man whom Ross believed was a assumed to be a member of Camisado's team.
James throws Ritalin against the lockers and quickly flees the scene, Ross already gone missing. Just as James leaves, Prozac frantically enters the room to see his partner curled up in a beaten ball on the floor, as if he were nothing more than an old, flesh-bag of bones and blood, though much of that had begun to seap out of the wounds that he had suffered during the course of the beating. Scared for his partner, Prozac makes headway towards Ritalin as the scenes fades to black.
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
It's too bad for Ritalin, I'm truly sorry about what happened to the guy, though since Ross and James are my opponents at Collision, I am not sure I can have much sympathy for him. I'm only sorry that he was mistaken as a member of my team. At the moment, my team is purely myself, nobody more. I've had a hell of a time trying to get members, but this whole "Rampage or Former FWF Wrestler-Only" thing is really busting my balls. Ross was right when he made the statement that the Rampage roster was weak; In the talent pool of the FWF, Rampage is most definitely the shallow end. Is it any wonder why I've stood behind Live-Wire being the dominant show I made it to be?
But here I am now, stuck with these Rampage nutcases, and least of all, Ross Walker. I used to have respect for the man, but I've lost any respect I ever had after what was said last Monday night. I could have sworn our relationship was respectable, but it's been proven that his words after Jealousy and around were just for show, this feeling is not mutual, and never again will it be.
I'm sorry for poor Ritalin that he had managed to be dragged into this, but I can't sympathize for a man that wrestles for a living but cannot defend himself from the likes of James Bohne.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Date: Monday, September the Seventeenth, 2007
Time: 9:11 PM
Location: Coyote's Local Bar
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
A scene comes into view of the now crowded, dirty, noise-filled Coyote's Bar. "You Give Love a Bad Name", originally by Bon Jovi, could be heard over the numerous voices, clanking of glasses and poolballs, and the occasional drunken bastard falling from his stool hitting the floor with a sudden thud. After a few moments of confusion, the view is settled upon two extremely recognizable men, at least by anyone with an ounce of professional wrestling knowledge. The two men are set on stools next to eachother in front of the bar, patiently waiting for the bartender to make his way down the wooden, stained bartable to fix their alcoholic desires. Eventually, the bartender arrived at their section of the long bartable.
.+|Bartender|+|:.
So, what can I get you boys tonight?
The man looked towards Prozac first, before looking towards Camisado.
.-|Prozac|-|:.
A blue moon will do.
Although looking as if he were asking against his own will, he forced himself to look towards Camisado.
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
Just straight Goose.
The bartender begrudgingly fills both orders and quickly walks away from the two men.
.-|Prozac|-|:.
Straight vodka?
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
It's been that kinda week.
.-|Prozac|-|:.
You're telling me. Bert's out for god knows how long! I gotta find a way to get back at Ross and James!
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
Yeah well I've spent the whole damn week trying to find people to join my team for Collision, but I hardly know anybody here on Rampage, so it just makes it that much harder. I've even got more pressure on me to put a successful team together, after last year's fiasco of a Collision Match. I can't lose two consecutive Collision Matches, you know?
.-|Prozac|-|:.
Yeah, yeah. I catch ya.
As if like magic, Camisado thought of the perfect solution to begin solving his current problem
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
Fuck man! I don't know why I never thought of this before! Rob, do you wanna join the team? It's the perfect way for you to get back at Ross and James, and it would give me the first member to my team.
.-|Prozac|-|:.
Why the hell didn't either of us think of that, bud? Of course I'd do it!
The two men shake hands very quickly, both smiling and slightly laughing at their stupidity.
Date: Monday, August the Twenty-Fourth, 2007
Time: 10:14 PM
Location: Monday Night Rampage
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Disgusted, Camisado is seen sitting backwards atop a black, padded steel chair, in a small, nearly empty room just outside the Monday Night Rampage arena. And although it was happening live just twenty yards from where he sat, he chose to watch the action on a small, less than fifteen-inch television screen, which was only mere inches from his torn face.
He continued to watch as "The" Ross Walker bad-mouthed the entire FWF, though his main target was the Rampage roster. He claimed that Rampage had lost great prestige since his retirement just over a month ago, especially in the Heavyweight World Title scene, as Oswald Brodd and The Devil were currently battling for the belt, though Brodd was now out of the picture since Ross had recently attacked him and put Oswald out of commission for a bit of time. Ross never stopped ripping on the Rampage roster, claiming that there was nobody there that proved to be a challenge for him, and that he was the only person that deserved that belt.
His ignorance worked against him at times, and this time was a prime example as Ross was unaware of Rampage's newest addition to the roster. Camisado was ready to shove Ross' words straight back down his throat. Ross called out a challenger, anyone who thought they could ever deserve to take that belt away from him. Camisado slowly stood up, though he was beat to the punch by what he thought was a joke.
In mere seconds, Ross pinned the supposed "Hardcore Monster", badday, and grinned evilly from ear-to-ear, as if that quick pinfall meant something. As this ended, Camisado seemingly knew what was to come next, as he threw the chair backwards, between his legs, and quickly left the room, now sprinting the short distance of twenty yards between the room and the entrance to the stage of the arena. As he ran, Ross' voice echoed throughout the entire building:
.↓|"The" Ross Walker|↓|:.
There are no credible challengers to my title! Not here, not on Live-Wire, not anywhere! Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, could ever compare to me! Furthermore, nobody in FWF has the guts to challenge me!
As Ross muttered his last word, Camisado burst through the entrance almost instantly, and "Wake Up" began to play as the crowd, now mostly on their feet, cheering, screaming, and clapping, got their first look at Camisado in a Rampage arena since the roster split over a year ago. He slapped a few hands of his caring and loyal fans as he kept his focus upon the dirty man in the ring, "The" Ross Walker. He soon slid into the ring and grinned at the enormously angered Walker, wasting no time to get to the point.
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
Excuse me? What's this I hear about guts? If I'm not mistaken, it was my guts that enabled me to win the Jealousy tournament this year. It was my guts that got me that belt that you're holding. It was my guts...
.↓|"The" Ross Walker|↓|:.
that were spread across the ring last time the two of us faced off. Get the hell out of my ring.
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
I'll get out of the ring. But before I do..
Camisado wastes no time, quickly raising his arm, his hand flat, and slaps Ross straight across the face. With Ross displaying a disgusted look whilst rubbing the spot in which he was slapped, "Numb" is heard, though the scene fades.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Date: Sunday, September the Sixteenth, 2007
Time: 11:02 PM
Location: Sunday Night Showdown!: Edition 4, UCW Arena
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
"The" Ross Walker is seen in front of a door marked "The Meds". His mouth is seen moving, along with several hand gestures, though nothing is heard. He tilts his head back as if he were laughing, and pushes the door open, only to see James Bohne, the newest member or Ross' team at the Collision Pay-Per-View, stomping away at Bert Ritalin, a man whom Ross believed was a assumed to be a member of Camisado's team.
James throws Ritalin against the lockers and quickly flees the scene, Ross already gone missing. Just as James leaves, Prozac frantically enters the room to see his partner curled up in a beaten ball on the floor, as if he were nothing more than an old, flesh-bag of bones and blood, though much of that had begun to seap out of the wounds that he had suffered during the course of the beating. Scared for his partner, Prozac makes headway towards Ritalin as the scenes fades to black.
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
It's too bad for Ritalin, I'm truly sorry about what happened to the guy, though since Ross and James are my opponents at Collision, I am not sure I can have much sympathy for him. I'm only sorry that he was mistaken as a member of my team. At the moment, my team is purely myself, nobody more. I've had a hell of a time trying to get members, but this whole "Rampage or Former FWF Wrestler-Only" thing is really busting my balls. Ross was right when he made the statement that the Rampage roster was weak; In the talent pool of the FWF, Rampage is most definitely the shallow end. Is it any wonder why I've stood behind Live-Wire being the dominant show I made it to be?
But here I am now, stuck with these Rampage nutcases, and least of all, Ross Walker. I used to have respect for the man, but I've lost any respect I ever had after what was said last Monday night. I could have sworn our relationship was respectable, but it's been proven that his words after Jealousy and around were just for show, this feeling is not mutual, and never again will it be.
I'm sorry for poor Ritalin that he had managed to be dragged into this, but I can't sympathize for a man that wrestles for a living but cannot defend himself from the likes of James Bohne.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Date: Monday, September the Seventeenth, 2007
Time: 9:11 PM
Location: Coyote's Local Bar
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
A scene comes into view of the now crowded, dirty, noise-filled Coyote's Bar. "You Give Love a Bad Name", originally by Bon Jovi, could be heard over the numerous voices, clanking of glasses and poolballs, and the occasional drunken bastard falling from his stool hitting the floor with a sudden thud. After a few moments of confusion, the view is settled upon two extremely recognizable men, at least by anyone with an ounce of professional wrestling knowledge. The two men are set on stools next to eachother in front of the bar, patiently waiting for the bartender to make his way down the wooden, stained bartable to fix their alcoholic desires. Eventually, the bartender arrived at their section of the long bartable.
.+|Bartender|+|:.
So, what can I get you boys tonight?
The man looked towards Prozac first, before looking towards Camisado.
.-|Prozac|-|:.
A blue moon will do.
Although looking as if he were asking against his own will, he forced himself to look towards Camisado.
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
Just straight Goose.
The bartender begrudgingly fills both orders and quickly walks away from the two men.
.-|Prozac|-|:.
Straight vodka?
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
It's been that kinda week.
.-|Prozac|-|:.
You're telling me. Bert's out for god knows how long! I gotta find a way to get back at Ross and James!
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
Yeah well I've spent the whole damn week trying to find people to join my team for Collision, but I hardly know anybody here on Rampage, so it just makes it that much harder. I've even got more pressure on me to put a successful team together, after last year's fiasco of a Collision Match. I can't lose two consecutive Collision Matches, you know?
.-|Prozac|-|:.
Yeah, yeah. I catch ya.
As if like magic, Camisado thought of the perfect solution to begin solving his current problem
.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
Fuck man! I don't know why I never thought of this before! Rob, do you wanna join the team? It's the perfect way for you to get back at Ross and James, and it would give me the first member to my team.
.-|Prozac|-|:.
Why the hell didn't either of us think of that, bud? Of course I'd do it!
The two men shake hands very quickly, both smiling and slightly laughing at their stupidity.