LW: 6.7.07 v. Shawn Fuller- Jealousy Rd. 1

[Camisado]

Key
Sililoquy
Speaking
Action
~Lyrics~
Camisado
Knuckles


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Date: Monday, June the Fourth, 2007
Time: 8:54 PM
Location: Knuckles' Wrestling Room
Occasion: Camisado's Daily Workout/Death Routine

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.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
Somebody once wrote: "Hell is the impossibility of reason". That's what this place feels like. Hell.

Individual beads of sweat formed themselves on each and every single pore on his body. By now, the t-shirt had become nothing more than a rag to wipe the sweat that had begun to drip profusely from his brow. As he struggled with each breath, he stared down at the puddle of sweat that had formed directly below him on the Polyethylene foam wrestling mat. His breathing became staggered, and he was lucky to get a breath of the dirty air pushed into his lungs after every push-up he successfully completed. The booming voice echoed throughout the small, nine-by-nine foot wrestling room, in which consisted of nothing more than the mat that covered the entire floor and the two men. Camisado looked up at the man and attempted to yell back, though his voice had a mere affect compared to the much larger man's.

.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
How.. hot, Knucks?

.¢|Knuckles|¢|:.
Hundred-Seven degrees, Cami-Boy!

.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
I told you it felt like Hell in here.

As soon as Knuckles' rough voice left his lips, Camisado's now frail arms collapsed beneath all the weight of his body. It was obviously time to move on to something else, push-ups were out of the question. Knuckles frowned as he yelled once more.

.¢|Knuckles|¢|:.
Pick your ass up and run ten laps across the room!

Camisado groaned pathetically and slowly picked himself up off the ground, and began to run back-and-forth across the training room, seemingly at a snail's pace.

.¢|Knuckles|¢|:.
RUN!

Once again, his booming voice bellowed throughout the room, causing Camisado to stumble a bit in his jog, though he mustered all the strength he could find inside his body to pick up the pace to a speed acceptable to his trainer's likings.

.¢|Knuckles|¢|:.
You're gonna be tired during Jealousy! You're gonna get tired during these matches! You're gonna get tired in the championship! You're gonna have four matches in that one night! You're gonna be tired as hell, Cam! You're gonna have to search deep down for all that you've got! I know you've got it, I see it now! Now RUN! This is where champions are made, this room right here! If you can kick your ass into gear in this room, you can do it anywhere. It's hotter than hell in here, it's gonna be around eighty degrees, eighty-five degrees tops in St. Louis that Saturday night! So kick you ass into gear now, you know it's gonna pay off! WORK!

The scene began to fade as Camisado is seen running nine feet, down-and-back, continuously, Knuckles yelling the entire time he runs, though Cam never again lost the pace he had set for himself, and if anything, he got faster as it went on. In all, he ran non-stop for upwards of an hour until Knuckles stopped him.

.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
Day by day I struggle to maintain not only my strength, but also my sanity. It's all a blur. I have no energy to shower, no energy to go out, not even the energy to push the buttons on the remote. The second I get home, I'm flopping on my couch, and I'm out cold. I wake up around noon-time the next day, and back to Knuckles' room I head, back for another nine hours of training. I'm beginning to feel sick, I think dehydration's setting in, but in all honesty, I don't care, I can't be bothered to get up off this couch and get a glass of water, the sink is just too damn far and frankly, I'm not sure it's really worth it.

Camisado plainly lies on the couch and slowly closes his eyes, as if it would take too much energy to close them quickly. The scene flips to a black screen as Camisado's voice is heard.

.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
You know, I don't get to say this all that often, but my life has amazingly been going well lately. I mean, I'm coming back to FWF, and not only that, I've got a match this week on Live-Wire. It was just last Wednesday that I talked to Live-Wire's DOA, Mark Briggs about coming back to show everyone that taking a break was indeed the right decision for me. I mean, months ago, after I lost the title to the Devil, of all people, I was feeling like I was nothing but dust in the wind, that miniscule. But now I'm once again feeling great, and Briggs saw that, so he did something that amazed me: he convinced Commissioner Mike Farrell to put me in this year's Jealoust tournament, and here I am. Next Thursday night on Live-Wire is my opening round match, against Shawn Fuller. It's something I look forward to. He's a good guy, but he's not half the wrestler I am, and we both know that. All he can hope for is that I bear a bit of ring rust, that's his only hope in this match. Plain and simple.

~Don't think too hard about it,
You never knew I'd get this far,
Would get this far without you.
Relax, stand back and watch it happen.
I'll wave my goodbyes into the night and say~

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Date: Tuesday, June the Fifth, 2007
Time: 11:47 AM
Location: Hallway, Just Outside Knuckles' Wrestling Room
Occasion: Camisado's Daily Workout/Death Routine

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Camisado plainly stands in front of the door to Knuckles' wrestling room. The glazed-over look on his face indicates that he had a rough night of sleep last night. His hair is messy in the back, which probably means he has yet to take a shower, and he probably smells still from yesterday's workout, but that's no problem considering he's about to work his ass off once again, despite the aching of every last muscle in his body, even the muscles he never even knew he had. His right hand had formed a limp fist, and he weakly smacked the door a few times, to nearly no avail. For over a good minute or so, he impatiently waited, eventually letting himself into the room, finding it to be empty. Knuckles was nowhere to be found. Camisado laughs ironically as he allows his body to limply fall, laughing the entire venture to the mat.

.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
Oh, come on! Ahaha!

.¢|Camisado|¢|:.
I've even lost track of the damn days! It's Tuesday! Knucks left this morning!

Camisado, still giggling to himself, grudgingly picks himself up off the ground and stomps off, out of the room, slamming the door behind him, though not really purposely. He begins to trudge the short distance down the narrow, laminate-floored hallway to his own locker room. He fumbled with the key to his door, and that could have happened either because he's too damn tired to see the keys straight or simply because he was still in awe about the fact that his door was locked for once. Regardless, he took his fair share of time messing with the key ring before something on the floor caught his eye as he was looking down at the silver-spackled flooring. Much to his dismay, he leaned down to pick up the off-white colored envelope from the floor, fiercely ripping it open to get his rough hands it's confines. Still standing in the middle of the hallway, he begins to read the letter to himself aloud:

Dear Ryan,
Sorry I had to leave you on your own right now, but you're back up on your own, you can handle it. You're ready for this match; I can tell. You've trained harder in the past four weeks than I've seen you train any time in the past seven years, I've got to say man, I'm impressed. I'm sure you'll do fine Thursday night. You just gotta remember that, as good as you are, Fuller's still been wrestling for the past two months, and you haven't. Ring rust is inevitable in this situation. But it's the amazingly good wrestlers like yourself that can overcome that.

This is Jealousy, man. I know I don't have to remind you of that, but you're gonna hear it regardless. I can't stress it enough, Cam. I've never won a Jealousy, but I've spent the past seven years training you, and I know I've made you into a better wrestler than I could ever dream of. I've made you a better wrestler than both your brother and my son. Josh and Chase don't have shit on you, you know that. I don't even have shit on you. You could take me, even despite the size difference. You know who else doesn't have shit on you? Shawn Fuller. This guy doesn't know what he's doing. And you know why? It's because he doesn't work his ass off quite like you do. You know your stuff better than anyone around. Hell, you know his material better than he does. I have no doubt in my mind that you, out of every single wrestler in FWF, have the most stamina. Kid, you can go on for miles in a match. I know it. Your opponents know it. And after you push your limits, you'll know it. I also have no doubt that you're the quickest guy in the company, quickest there ever was in this place. No doubt. And right now, you're also the guy with the best technique. You're the best damn wrestler out there, Ryan! You didn't win any state titles for Male for nothing! You were the best amateur wrestler in a breeding ground for wrestling, and now you're the best technical wrestler in all of pro wrestling! I believe it, do you?

And Ryan, despite you being quick and technical, YOU ARE STILL THE MOST ENTERTAINING! People come just to see you wrestle, you know that? They really do. I'm proud that I made you into the man you are today. Thanks for making me the greatest trainer in the world, even if it is only in my own eyes.

If I don't see you Thursday night, you'll be hearing from me, so stay close to the phone, even though I know you never let that thing out of your sight. I'll be there at Jealousy, no matter what.

Good Luck,
Knuckles

[/color]

Camisado, after spending a good amount of time reading this letter, took a deep breath, seeming convinced by what his mentor, trainer, and most of all, the closest thing he's ever had to a father, had said. He truly believed that this match was his. All he had to do was focus and shed the ring rust. He averted his eyesight from the letter and finally opened the door to his room, quickly closing it behind him. He threw his plain white rag of a shirt off, into the corner of the room as he ran into the bathroom. Running into the bathroom had been the fastest thing he had done thusfar today. It was a sluggish morning for him, despite the fact that it was already past noon. Leaving the door behind him open, he flipped up two switches, one turning the double lights on in the bathroom, and the other turning the fan on. A low-pitched humming sound then filled the room. Camisado then reached his right hand inside the bathtub area, turning the knob to trigger the water. Though knowing what he was going to get, he decided to "test" the water. It turned out to be nearly ice-cold. He decided to burn a couple minutes by shaving, a chore which he hadn't performed in quite some time. That was probably a smart decision, as he should at least look presentable his first match back. Nobody needs to know he's a total bumb aside from his practicing.

The whole shaving cream fad had never caught on with him; He had always preferred a quick rinse of his face, followed by a lathering of hand soap. It just worked better in his opinion, he didn't need an incredibly close shave, all that matters was that it was gone. Camisado pulls his green-and-black disposable razor off the counter top near the sink and cuts the patchy beard that had begun to infest itself on his face. As Camisado finishes, he wastes no time at all dropping his black-and-white striped shorts and hopping behind the curtains, into the steaming shower, just as the scene fades to black.

~Don't think too hard about it,
You never knew I'd get this far,
Would get this far even with you.
Relax, stand back and watch it happen.
I'll wave my goodbyes into the night and say~

[/center]

[Camisado]

"Overrated" by Three Days Grace hits the P.A. System. Orange spotlights aimlessly search the arena, soon maStrachon their way to the wall opposite the entrance. They go up the wall and form letters, spelling out "Something That Produces Results". After the main guitar riff at the beginning ends, Camisado jumps out from behind the entrance as seventeen orange pyros shoot off from behind him. During the first verse, Camisado jogs down the entrance ramp, though only moving an inch or so with each step, moving along with the beat. As he walks down, more orange pyros on each side of the ramp shoot off, simultaneous with his steps. He then circles the ring, more pyros still following him.

Charles: The following match is scheduled for one fall. This is the first round of the Jealousy Tournament Introducing first, from Dayton, Ohio..weighing in at 184 pounds.... Camisado!

As the main chorus comes on, he makes his way around to the front of the ring, closest to the ramp. He slides into the ring and begins running back and forth, bouncing off the ropes. During the rest of the song, he pulls himself up to two opposite turnbuckles and grins out towards the crowd, mouthing various lines to the crowd's approval on his way back to the ring floor.Camisado slides into the ring and faces the crowd in front of him. He then does his taunt to receive some very loud boos. Camisado then faces the entranceway and waits for his opponent. Then Remedy by Seether begins to play and he quickly begins to walk down the entranceway, as Charles introduces him.

Charles: And his opponent.. from Durham, North Carolina...weighing in at 264 pounds... “The Show Stopper” Shawn Fuller!

Shawn slides into the ring, but before he can do anything, Camisado kicks him in the back of his neck.

.::Match::.

Camisado gets on his knees and starts beating Fuller's back with his arms. Camisado then gets on his knee and while doing so grabs Fuller's neck. He stands Fuller up and whips him to the ropes. Fuller bounces off the ropes and runs back to Camisado. Camisado then takes him down with a clothesline. Camisado slaps the back of Fuller's head. Camisado is wearing a huge smile on his face as Fuller holds the back of his head. Camisado backs up and waits for Fuller to get up. Once Fuller is up, Camisado charges toward him, looStrachon to clothesline him out of the ring, but Fuller reverses and drop toe hold's Camisado, causing Camisado’s throat to hit the top rope.

Myles: Oh my! That one HAD to hurt!

Camisado stumbles back and falls on his back and holds his throat. Fuller quickly runs over to the corner and climbs up to the top turnbuckle. He jumps and hits Camisado with a top rope Leg Drop. Camisado rolls around the ring holding his throat. Fuller stops him in the middle of the ring and covers him.

1...
2- Camisado gets his shoulder up.

Fuller picks Camisado up and Irish Whips him to the corner. Camisado holds the top ropes on both of his sides. Fuller charges toward him going for a corner spear, but Camisado uses the top ropes to lift himself up, and get out of harm's way. Fuller's shoulder crashed into the turnbuckle post. The camera zoomed in on Fuller's face, which was of course, showing that he was in pain. Camisado grabbed Fuller's tights and pulled him out of the turnbuckle. Camisado hooked his arm over Fuller's neck, and hit a Reverse DDT! Camisado pins.

1...
2... Fuller kicks out.

Camisado, now frustrated, stands Fuller up. Fuller stands in the middle of the ring as Camisado bounces off the ropes facing Fuller. Camisado runs toward Fuller looStrachon for a hooStrachon clothesline, but Fuller dodges. Camisado turns around and receives a standing dropkick from Fuller. Camisado is quick to get up, though. But Fuller stays on the offensive as he lands a few lefts and rights on Camisado face. Fuller then whips Camisado to the ropes. Camisado bounces off the ropes and runs back to Fuller who takes him down with a crossbody. Fuller quickly stands up and lets out a huge yell.

Strachon: Fuller's on a roll here, Myles! If he keeps it up, he may very well beat Camisado.

Myles: Don't count Camisado out just yet, Strachon.

Fuller waits for Camisado to get up. He's about to go on the offensive when he sees that Camisado is on his knees. But just then... "I aint like you” can be heard being yelled out through the P.A system. Fuller and everyone else in the arena focus their attention on the entranceway. The Devil’s theme music begins to play as the fans let out a few cheers.

Myles: It's The Devil! But what is he doing out here?!

Strachon: What kind of question is that, Myles? Notice the whole thing backstage with the Devil and Camisado saying whos better and stuff.

Fuller takes a microphone from a ringside staff member and walks over to the ropes facing The Devil.

Shawn Fuller: Hey! You two better get outta here! Or I'm gonna have to walk up this here ramp, and force ya to! Now go on! Git! Git! I said GIT, damn it!

The Devil did not budge. Shawn dropped the microphone and was about to exit the ring, when Camisado rolled him up for the pin!

1...
2...
3!

The bell rings signaling that the match is over, as Charles announces the winner.

Charles: Here is your winner, by pinfall... Camisado!

Fuller has a shocked expression on his face as Camisado crawls over to the ropes and uses them as leverage to pick himself up. Fuller looked at Camisado. Camisado then ran over to him and began the beat down on Fuller. By this time, The Devil was already in the ring. The Devil grabbed Camisado by the hair and pulled him off of Shawn Fuller. The Devil began to hit Camisado in the face with closed fists. Shawn Fuller walked over to Camisado and helped him up. And then knocked him down with a huge kick. It was the Sweet Chin Music.

Myles: This isn't right. By God, it isn't right! Shawn Fuller thought the Devil was against him but it all turns out that The Devil and Shawn Fuller were on the same page. But did the Devil cause him the match? Does Shawn Fuller even care about the match? He just wants to make Camisado pay.

The Devil began to bash Camisado’s head in with the fist that has steel chain wrapped around it. Camisado is busted open. They stop the beat down for a moment. Just then The Devil picks up the bloody and beaten Camisado, and calls for Shawn Fuller to set up for the SKO. He pulls him up and Shawn Fuller jumps up in the air and nails the SKO right on Camisado.

Strachon: What a beatdown, Myles!

Camisado isn't moving an inch. The Devil exits the ring and walks over to where Charles sits. He takes his chair and slides it into the ring. He then slides in himself and takes the chair. The Devil opens it up close to a corner in the ring. Shawn Fuller then walks over to the corner where the chair is at. He sits on top of the top turnbuckle. Shawn stands Camisado up, then lifts him up as if he was getting ready to hit a Piledriver. He carries Camisado over to The Devil. The Devil now has Camisado in a piledriver position. The Devil stands and jumps, hitting Fuller with a top rope Damned to Hell onto the chair!

Myles: BAH GAWD, Strachon! Camisado must have broken his neck! This is absolutely sickening.

EMTs and trainers run down to the ring and back The Devil and Shawn Fuller back away from Camisado. The two head up the ramp and into the backstage area with huge smiles on their faces, as the EMTs put a neckbrace on Camisado. They place him on a orange stretcher and slowly roll him up the ramp, as the scene fades