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Breaking And Entering; Showdown 7 RP #2
Topic Started: Nov 29 2007, 04:45 PM (107 Views)
Mike Polowy
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2x Former sVo Champion
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He's been pounding on the solid oak door for going on five minutes now, to no avail. A few people pass by, looking on at the sVo champion, wondering what in the hell he's doing, but beyond that he is undisturbed in his quest. Well, whatever that quest could possibly be at this point. After all, the door he is pounding on doesn't belong to Psycho Stevo. Or Jonathon Page. Not even Spring Heeled Jack. No, the door feeling the full weight of Mike Polowy's right fist is labeled, as usual, "Jimmy Moretti" and is has not opened since the pounding began.

The knocking gets more urgent, and Mike furrows his brow at the lack of attention this loud rapping is garnering. A small gleaming of sweat forms at the top of his brow, which he wipes away, before knocking one more time. When the door still does not open, he tries the only other thing he can think of. In fact, he probably should have tried it four minutes and thirty seconds ago. Sure enough, as he turns the door knob he finds the door is not only unlocked, but pops open quite easily. He looks around to make sure no one has noticed his stupidity. They did.

Stepping into the office, the first thing The Mike Effect notices is a total lack of Jimmy Moretti. The lights are off, the office is for once tidy, and it doesn't look as if he's been in here yet today.

Polowy: Well at least he wasn't just being rude.

He lets out a sigh and turns to leave. Instead, however, he goes further into the office and takes a seat behind Moretti's desk, putting his feet up. Mike folds his arms behind his head, looking around the office in admiration. A clock hands above the door he just entered, with the sVo logo in the center. It ticks off second by second as he scans the room for anything of interest. Filing cabinets and book shelves, files and misc. papers... nothing important. One thing, however, does catch his glance. A small, silver camcorder, placed almost purposefully facing the desk he's sitting at right now. Thinking, Polowy approaches the camera and checks for a tape. Luckily for him, there's already one inside. He rewinds to the beginning, not bothering to make sure the tape is unimportant. He clicks the record button and returns to Moretti's desk, sitting forward and folding his hands politely.

Polowy: To whom this may concern. If you're watching this, Jimmy Moretti is already dead.

He chuckles to himself, enjoying his own morbid sense of humor, but quickly gets back on track, clearing his throat.

Polowy: Sorry, you know I can't help making a bad joke, especially one in such poor taste. Anyway, this tape is just another impromptu piece of Michael Polowy propaganda. After I've sent it through for television syndication, some of you will fast forward through it, others of you will watch it over and over again. Some will laugh, some will roll their eyes, and yet others will truly see the point behind it. As with anything I do, it doesn't matter to me how you react to it, just so long as you remember what I said when it's all over.

This sVo I'm a part of right now... it's really not at all what the name implies. There is no REAL violence here, in these halls. At least not the kind of violence that requires "sanctioning." And more than anything, there is no certainly no "organization". Look at this, it's after noon already and there's no sign of the big boss. Surprised? Then you haven't seen too much behind the scenes around here.


He drums his fingers on the desk, pattering out a beat as he scans the room a little bit more, losing interest already in his new videocamera toy.

Polowy: Now, whatever I was going to talk to Mr. Moretti about may not have been all that important. You guys know me, I was probably just going to bitch and complain about how unfairly he treats me, get yelled at a little bit, and leave with my tail between my legs. And then, regardless of the outcome of my meeting with good ol' Jimmy, I'd have gone out to the ring and torn apart whatever no name idiot he'd booked me against for the week, and he'd come out looking like an asshole, as usual.

But this week... well, this week is different. It took me a solid three days to get up and moving after Redemption. I could hardly get out of bed, I was in so much pain. And what do I find out, when I'm finally up and ready to start my week? I find out that I'm facing off against none other that Dynasty Wrestling's Psyko Stevo at Showdown. Now, for all of you out there in TV land who remember Psyko Stevo, you probably remember some cockamamy idiocy about him beating me in my first DW match, right? And you're all sitting at home, practically foaming at the mouth, waiting to see this idiot trample me like some kind of... oh, what did he call himself? Oh yeah, a rhino.

Well, this ain't Dynasty Wrestling, and I can assure you that there will be no jungle animals at Showdown. That whole analogy was really cute, and all, but honestly, like every other Stevo promo I got lost halfway through it and ended up making myself a sandwich. I can sit here with a handheld video camera I found in my bosses office, and with no props, animals, ticker tape parades, or other stupid gimmicks, I can entertain millions of fans across the world. And yet my dear old Dynasty compadre over there needs a damned three ring circus just to make whatever useless babble he has to say seem interesting enough to warrant time on television. Sad, isn't it?


He chuckles to himself, shaking his head in mock sadness.

Polowy: Just like Spring Heeled Jack, this sad sack of a man needs to hide himself behind illusion to get noticed. And ladies and gentlemen, you all saw what I did to Spring Heeled Jack. The difference is, however, that Jack needed his illusions to intimidate me. He needed something to make him look like a credible threat to my championship. Stevo, on the other hand... he doesn't need help looking like a credible threat. He doesn't need help looking talented. The world over knows that Stevo can wrestle, we've all seen it... after all, he's been wrestling since the late fifties, hasn't he? Christ, the guy is like forty years older than me. So the intimidation factor is there, I must admit. No, the reason Pysko Stevo relies on illusion is because he's a fifty year old man strutting around with Namor's haircut and Black Adam's spandex. The reason he needs fifteen farm animals and the cast of Will and Grace every time he cuts a promo is because Stevo: God Of The Sea needs to appear like he's got more charisma than your common goldfish.

I mean seriously... elephants? Monkeys throwing fecal matter at eachother? Is that the way to make an impression on the champion? I've never seen Barnum face off for the world championship. I've never seen Bailey in the main event. And I've never seen Siegfried and Roy boasting the tag team titles. So what on earth was this man trying to accomplish by bringing the entire cast of 'The Jungle Book' into camera shot, just to make a point? And let's get one thing straight, Stevo. Sure, the lion may rely on instinct. He may be the king of the jungle, he may be the most vicious of the jungle cats. But you know what? You're never really gonna see him get that monkey. And you know why? Because the monkey is intelligent. The monkey is capable of strategy, and of using his mind to make intelligent decisions. So while I might be 'throwing poo' at you on the outside, on the inside, I'm planning my next move, and while you're making a mockery of professional wrestling, I've already decided how I'm going to beat you.

This Sunday, Mufasa, you're going to be the cowardly lion and I'm going to be the cunning Silverback. You do the math.


He flashes a smirk, as he reaches forward and powers down the camera. He takes the tape out of the ejection slot, pocketing it greedily.

Polowy: That oughta get the point across.

Whistling a tune, Mike walks back to the door and slips out, trying to remain unnoticed. The waiting room to Moretti's office is surprisingly empty, as apparently he was the only person in need of assistance from the boss on this particular occasion. Even still, he's careful to make little noise on his way back out into the main corridor.
-The First Sanctioned Violence Organization World Champion
-Winner of the Victory Cup
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