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| P.Y vs Julio Guerrera; Non Title | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 9 2008, 10:14 PM (135 Views) | |
| Bman | Mar 9 2008, 10:14 PM Post #1 |
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PWA's God and Gestapo
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Deadline: 7EST, Friday March 14 The crowd falls into a hushed silence - that is, right up until the moment Unsane’s “East Broadway” commences, with dominating authority. The sole sound of a low tuned, down tempo riff has never hit anybody with as much rage, as much hatred as this before, but each night it rings out loudly through the PA system, it proves to be a song associated with nothing but pure evil. A sole spotlight drops down upon the top of the ramp, now revealing not one but two figures; one possesses a menacing stare that glares into the darkened abyss before him whilst the other simply smirks. Welcome the new Co-World Champion P.Y, the definition of the word 'monster', along with his trusty sidekick Rex Haraway. He stands there, deadly still, arms falling by his waist as the crowd start to become more and more impatient with the volume of their boos, increasing by the second. RING ANNOUNCER: Making his way to the ring – From the United Kingdom, he weighs in at 315lbs, standing at 6 feet 11 and a half inches tall. He is the English Monster, the British Behemoth and PWA World Champion – P.Y! Never before has a Ring Announcer been met with such a loathsome response. In darkness, he quickly flees the ring before the Englishman arrives, slowly being guided to the ring under the bright spotlight from above. Where fans once craved to extend their arm over the barrier and throw their hands at him, now it’s a completely different story. Everybody stays back. They’d rather keep well away from this man, at all possible costs. Instead they decide to observe whilst exhaling all of the air from their lungs in a collective boo, throwing all their hatred at the man now at ringside. The English Monster grabs a firm hold of the tope rope, able to hoist himself up onto the canvas by his sheer size and further enter the battlefield by stepping over the three tightly strung cables. Slowly but surely, he steps into the centre of the ring. The lights eventually fade in, as the British Behemoth resorts to a few moments of warming up his limbs in the seconds he has to spare. --- The arena is then, not surprisingly, swamped in darkness as the production team scrambles to get this entrance off without a hitch. Next, sparkling blue light emits from the scaffolding which hangs above the ring as the lyrics to M.O.P.'s second most famous song, ”Cold As Ice”, begin playing. The words are spoken by a women, her voice high and barely audible. ”Coooold asss iiiiicee.. you know that you are! Coooold asss iiiiicee.. you're as cold as ice to me! Coooold asss iiiiicee!” The fog machine is next, the thin veil it provides perhaps a symbolic representation of the vapor which ice usually emits. The fog commences from the sides of the entrance, though it quickly spreads until it swarms the entirety of the entrance stage. At this point, the much more masculine voice of one of M.O.P.'s booms from the speakers, meticulously interweaving itself with the voice of the mysterious women. ”(Yeah! Hahahaha! Ooooooh, shit!) You're as cold as ice.. (Yeah!) You're willing to sacrifice! (Word the fuck UP!) You're as cold as ice.. (You're ICE!) You're willing to sacrifice! You're as cold as ice.. you're willing to sacrifice! You're as cold as ice.. you're willing to sacrifice! I'd like to welcome motherfuckers to the back of the mind of Bill See I'm for real When deliverin these M.O.P. tactics, I'll bury you bastards I custom make caskets The B.G. (told ya nigga!) the Y.G. (soldier nigga!) Even the O.G. (cobra nigga!) told ya nigga! I may come, with my gun in my hand to make sure you motherfuckers understand ” At this point, the figure for who this grand entrance is for finally makes his presence known. He's a shadow amongst the fog at first, his six foot frame pushing the curtains apart and stepping out into the fog. The fans can see his silhouette as he thrashes his head back and forth, and he pounds his fists onto his chest in one last-ditch effort to pump himself up. ”Pardon me! How the fuck you gon' start with me? I'm a heavyweight in this game, you just spar with me You get laced down, from your face down, drop your shit Niggaz thought M.O.P. stand for "mop" and shit Don't don't DON'T, get it twisted I told you that we top of the line designed realistic For instance, MASH OUT POSSE will come through and clear yo' ass out dump and air yo' ass out, CHUMP, we cold!” Julio Guerrera finally steps out of the fog. The blue streaks of light dance their way from the audience towards him, glistening off of his oiled body. With a smirk, he obnoxiously makes his way down the entrance ramp and towards the squared circle for this upcoming battle as the mysterious woman's voice once again takes over the song. ”You're as cold as ice.. (That's right!) You're willing to sacrifice! (Sho 'nuff!) You're as cold as ice.. (yeah!) You're willing to sacrifice! (COME ON!) You're as cold as ice.. you're willing to sacrifice! You're as cold as ice.. you're willing to sacrifice! A predicate gun buster, I passed all classes One of the fastest at blastin flashes (BURNT) You seen my work, you know my steez It's a slim chance that I'ma hesitate to squeeze, please Money never made me (no) money never played me (NO NO) .. and Money bet' not make (?) or I break his ass Subtract his ass when I step through his hood Fuck droppin you, I'm into stoppin you for good Stop him if you could (You're as cold as ice..) And you'll be, stiff as a log in a suit lookin nice Youse a sinner nigga (You're as cold as ice..) But you ain't cold enough to freeze hot slugs when they run up in ya You ain't in my class nigga, I'm the last nigga You gon' fuck around and get blast, sucka ass nigga The soul survivor, survivor sole Nigga you roll, and I roll, let's stroll I told you that I'm cold! ” The self-proclaimed Best From the West now finds himself inches away from the ring apron. His gaze constantly shifts from the surrounding audience, to the referee, to the ring itself until, finally, he takes a single leap, and ascends what must be four feet with the grace of a feline. He hands grip the top nylon in order to support himself after his feet land on the outskirt of the ring, and he takes a step into the squared battlefield. ”You're as cold as ice.. (yeah!) you're willing to sacrifice! You're as cold as ice.. (yeah!) you're willing to sacrifice! You're as cold as ice.. you're willing to sacrifice! You're as cold as ice.. you're willing to sacrifice!” The lights return to normal as Julio Guerrera mobs towards his appointed corner, his hands feverishly working on ensuring his wrist tape has been properly applied. ”Yo I terrorize guys (EXERCISE) street formulas At hip-hop shows, cause pandemonium Shit, I ain't concerned until it's my turn I snatch a mic jump on the stage and show my ass like Howard Stern But not in that form (hell nah) I perform lyrical heatwaves, that'll keep your brain warm But when it's on, you fuck around and get ripped up or get placed in a bodybag, with that ass zipped up Toe tag 'em!” The music cuts out before Billy Danze can continue from Lil' Fame and finish the song. |
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| P.Y | Mar 10 2008, 12:13 PM Post #2 |
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Hall of Famer
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In their separate corners stand two rather unique figures, but as different as they both may be, there is at least one thing that both P.Y and Julio share – and no, it’s not just the fact they have shared the tag “stable-mate” a number of times in the past. No, what makes them similar is their influence upon the company that surrounds them. In the 6 years that the Pojo Wrestling Alliance has been in business, these two men have been significant figures since the very beginning; there is no denying that both have been involved in some of the memorable storylines, matches and moments that have helped to place the business where it is today. So what about now? Could the two of them further define the company as one of the greatest around by turning this singles match into an all-time classic. Maybe. Only time will tell – and the man who keeps such decided it’s time to kick off this contest as he strikes the bell. DING-DING-DING! Oh and another thing the two appears to have in common – the will to fight. You can never be quite sure just how an opponent of the English Monster will act upon entering the ring, upon feeling the presence of such an intimidating. Julio, however, has been there many a time before. In fact it comes as second nature to simply not be intimidated, a mindset he sticks to firmly as he raises both of his arms, waving both hands in the globally accepted gesture to “just bring it”. Perhaps he studied the tape of the World Champion’s match last week, who knows – yet as much as he hopes to catch out the beast with his own tactics, the figure standing before he also remains glued to the canvas. He merely brings both of his arms up to his chest, both hands clenched in somewhat of a defensive stance whilst he stares into the fiery eyes of his foe. It looks easy enough to do, but deep inside, P.Y fights every urge to keep grounded. Trying to resort to his own mind games, he further tries to intimidate the Best from the West by pulling back his lips, revealing a rather scary looking set of dentures that grind against one another – but it’s no use. Julio doesn’t budge; instead, he decides to rub salt into the proverbial wound. From motioning for his adversary to make the first move, the Messiah changes his tactics and decides to move his hands elsewhere as he slowly begins to point towards his chin. Tapping the stubble upon the surface, his actions appear too disrespectful to the Englishman as suddenly, he breaks the silence. His uncontrollable sprint commences. Whilst one man on the inside smiles at the feat he has achieved, another on the outside grimaces. That man of course is Rex: a man who appears to understand too well about the truth behind Julio’s charade. Of course, P.Y himself is soon to understand such a fact too – but he does so with much harsher and painful consequences. Bounding forwards towards his target, the self-proclaimed saviour simply closes his eyes; he doesn’t want to see how the outcome of this next sequence turns out, but as for the Nebraska crowd … well, they couldn’t be keener. They all watch attentively as Julio dodges the 300 plus pound bullet flying at him, scissoring both of his legs around one of the tree-trunk like limbs keeping P.Y aloft – momentarily, anyway. The sudden anchor, leaving one foot miles behind the other, soon causes him to tumble. His face drives into the canvas with an outstanding thud; as loud as it may be, the response the audience appears to be louder. It appears that it matters not who delivered the Drop Toe Hold to the World Champion – as long as he is grounded, they’re happy. Julio doesn’t seem to take comfort in the crowd’s response. In truth, it appears he hasn’t even noticed it. The Messiah seems more indulged in his rather clever and thought-out tactic of keeping the big man grounded, soon realising he needs to act once the monster at his feet soon stirs. The options are endless, but wanting to meet power with power, he decided to head for the ropes. Again, a wise decision on paper – but with Rex lurking on the outside, it proves to be a bad one. Watching the foe of his associate turn to the ring’s side soon spurs Haraway into action. He obviously doesn’t want the World Champion to be humiliated any further, hence the decision to take matters into his own hands – and literally, too. Once Julio’s body weight is absorbed by the three cables surrounding the battlefield, the self-proclaimed saviour shackles both hands tightly around his exposed ankles. It almost proves to be a role reversal from moments ago, Guerrera also tripping over thanks to the force holding him back, but he regains his balance. One better, he even shakes free the weight keeping him nailed to the ground. Rex appears agitated – but looking at the English Monster, now back to his feet, soon returns the smile to his face. His head may appear sunken as Julio recommences his dash across the ring’s plane, but it soon snaps back. Along with his leg … and Julio’s head, too. He runs headfirst into the Big Boot that P.Y transforms out of thin air, unable to steer away from the danger thanks to his uncontrollable speed. Thankfully, his head remains attached – just. JOHNNY: “My god! I’m surprised that Julio wasn’t decapitated with that boot right to his face … although by looking at how he’s cradling his neck, maybe that is just the case!”DONNY: “Once again P.Y is showing he is not a force to be messed with. He may already have the strength and size advantage over many of the people he faces, but as he proved last week with Alex Giltinane, he does not take to disrespect lightly.” (OOC: Good luck.) |
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| P.Y | Mar 18 2008, 04:02 PM Post #3 |
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Hall of Famer
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Julio’s neck rolls on rather unstable hinges. After such an impact to his head, you’d expect that to be the case as he lies motionless on the canvas – but the agony doesn’t end there. His body is quickly lifted to his feet amidst the screaming of P.Y’s protégé; Rex screams orders at the PWA World Champion, telling him exactly what to do as he if doesn’t himself know. Perhaps it’s just reassurance, who knows. Still, the Englishman hauls the Messiah’s body from the canvas and draws him close to his chest. A spin, a fall and a rotation of his opponent’s body later and it’s all over – one rather vile looking Denouement, almost placing Julio through the canvas, has P.Y’s opponent truly out for the count. He proves this by following up with a pin fall … … ONE … TWO … THREE! “East Broadway” by Unsane soon blares over the PA system, alerting those who are strangely unaware that this match is over. Rex snatches the World Title belt from the timekeeper, quickly sliding into the ring to hand the gold to its rightful owner. RING ANNOUNCER: “THE WINNER OF THIS BOUT AS A RESULT OF A PIN FALL – P.Y!” The Ring Announcer is about to head out of the ring – that is, until Rex decides to snatch the microphone from his grasp. He stops momentarily, somewhat anxiously at the reflecting gaze Haraway shoots back at him before he finally leaves, allowing the self-proclaimed saviour to speak. REX: “Just like at Pandemonium, here we see yet another revolutionary experiencing the same phenomenon of ‘defeat’. Typical.” Rex chuckles to himself as he tries to muster a reaction from the crowd. REX: “Try as you might to try and overthrow this man, the end result is always the same: failure. You see, as hard as the locker room may – or may not – be trying, no force is able to budge this Englishman from the top of the mountain. The gold remains around his waist. The name “P.Y” remains etched into the nameplate – so with that said, at the next PWA PPV Massacre, we’ve decided that the English Monster can only face a certain ‘body’: Nobody. That’s right - this year, the title will not be NOT be defended.” The crowd once again pick up in volume. No PWA World Title Match? Surely that would be a first. REX: “I mean what’s the point of putting a title on the line when the outcome is always the same? Until this company can provide this man with an actual “opponent” as opposed to a generic, disrespectful punching bag, we bid you fare-” Suddenly, to a rather surprised response, the sound of “Hypnotise” by The Notorious BIG signals the arrival of the PWA Commissioner, Piccie Smalls. He arrives on stage dressed smartly with a microphone in his hand, already raised to his mouth. PICCIE: “No-no-no. Not on my watch. You think you can just weasel out of defending the most prestigious belt this company has to offer? As if.” Everybody seemed uplifted by the fact that P.Y has to defend his belt – well, all except for P.Y. He seems to be pissed off, making himself heard as he rapidly grabs the microphone from Rex’s hand. P.Y: “So you’re telling me – the PWA Champion – that I have to defend my belt against another average Joe? Gimme a break. Until somebody back there shows me some respect that I deserve, then –” PICCIE: “No, you give the rest of the locker-room a break and show them some damn respect! I’m fed up with this tirade of yours, demanding all of this ‘respect’ that you apparently deserve. You deserve none – and I guarantee that you are going to get none from the man I have chosen to face you at Massacre.” Everybody suddenly edge forward in their seats with their ears pricked, desperate to hear the announcement of P.Y’s opponent. PICCIE: “That’s right; you’ve been booked in a World Title defence at Massacre in a few weeks time P.Y – but don’t worry. You’ve already defeated a couple of "revolutionaries" as of late, so you’ll be fine facing another … am I right?” P.Y: “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Tell me who it is!” The crowd seem as on edge as the English Monster at this point. They are desperate to know the man next in line for a World Title match, so with an anxious mindset, all they can do is wait. PICCIE: “You’ll find out soon enough.” “Hypnotise” by The Notorious BIG once again hits, leaving the crowd somewhat annoyed at the cliff-hanger they have been left with. Even more annoyed seems P.Y, throwing the microphone out of the ring in a fit of rage as Monday Night Insanity comes to an end. |
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9:52 AM Jul 11