| No News Is Bad News; Showdown #8 RP 1 | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 6 2007, 01:20 AM (135 Views) | |
| Mike Polowy | Dec 6 2007, 01:20 AM Post #1 |
|
2x Former sVo Champion
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
With no referee Polowy turns around and waves to the back for a referee to come down, before returning to his cover, and to the delight of the crowd someone wearing black and white stripes does run down the entrance ramp, but its not any old referee - its Johnny All Star! All Star slides into the ring behind the back of Mike Polowy and grabs hold of the steel chair! All Star holds the chair up and Polowy soon turns around to see All Star! Polowy tries to reason with All Star not to hit him with the chair as Johnny All Star towers over the sVo Champion. All Star stares back at Polowy, but before he can hit him Psyko Stevo grabs Polowy from behind! Stevo whips Polowy into the ropes, before nailing him with the Psyklone as he bounces back! The crowd pop for the move as Johnny All Star shakes the referee into life as Stevo makes the cover! 1.. 2.. 3!! This one is all over, and Psyko Stevo scores a famous victory over the sVo Champion! Psyko Stevo raises his hands in the air after the intense battle, as Johnny All Star backs up the entrance ramp with a huge smile on his face having cost Polowy the match as Showdown heads off of the air! Rewind. Play. All Star holds the chair up and Polowy soon turns around to see All Star! Polowy tries to reason with All Star not to hit him with the chair as Johnny All Star towers over the sVo Champion. All Star stares back at Polowy, but before he can hit him Psyko Stevo grabs Polowy from behind! Stevo whips Polowy into the ropes, before nailing him with the Psyklone as he bounces back! The crowd pop for the move as Johnny All Star shakes the referee into life as Stevo makes the cover! 1.. 2.. 3!! Rewind. Play. All Star stares back at Polowy, but before he can hit him Psyko Stevo grabs Polowy from behind! Stevo whips Polowy into the ropes, before nailing him with the Psyklone as he bounces back! The crowd pop for the move as Johnny All Star shakes the referee into life as Stevo makes the cover! 1.. 2.. 3!! Rewind. Play. The crowd pop for the move as Johnny All Star shakes the referee into life as Stevo makes the cover! 1.. 2.. 3!! Rewind. Play. Stevo makes the cover! Rewind. Play. Stevo makes the cover! Rewind. Play. Stevo makes the cover! Fast Forward. Play. The man holding the remote control scowls, rubbing his sore, tired eyes with his free hand. The last four hours of his life had been spent reviewing this tape, committing it to memory. He was looking for something... anything... to explain what had occurred just a day ago before his very eyes. He could still feel the impact of the steel chair as it made sickening contact with Psyko Stevo's skull. He could still see the far away look in his opponent's eyes as he drifted away into half unconsciousness. He could still taste the stale sweat in the corner's of his mouth as he brushed his tongue over them, licking his lips in anticipation as he dropped for the cover. And then, everything went haywire. Johnny All Star backs up the entrance ramp with a huge smile on his face. Pause. The face of Johnny All-Star remains frozen on the screen, his face twisted into a sordid grin. He closes his eyes, but the face on the screen remains burned into the back of his mind. He's been struggling to understand the motive of the man behind that smile... struggling to comprehend why he stepped into that ring and made the conscious decision to interfere with the outcome of a match that didn't concern him. That smile would live forever in the mind of the sVo World Champion, and for good reason. He would remember that smile when he returned the favor next week at Showdown. He turns off the television, dropping the remote in disgust. What was it that made the sVo roster take him so lightly? As the champion, he had continually proved himself to be the most talented and capable member of the Sanctioned Violence Organization. Yet for all the meaningless drivel spouted off by Dynasty Wrestling alumni Psyko Stevo last week, one point stands firm in the mind of Michael Polowy as he stares blankly at the black screen of the powered down television: No one was taking him seriously as a champion. Maybe it was time for that to change. Last week, he had stood by and said nothing as Psyko Stevo tore into him, laying waste to his reputation and making him look like a fool on television. He'd let him get away with it... and worse, because of All-Star's interference, he'd been shown up on nationally televised Showdown by the second rate aftermath of Dynasty Wrestling. Voice: How ya doin, kid? Fazoli's disctinctly Jersey accent pulls him away from his thoughts suddenly, snapping him out of it. He spins his head around, shooting a look at his father's former tag team partner. His dark Italian suit is offset by a powerful red tie, accentuating the man's thick, muscular figure. For a man in his late fifties, Michael Fazoli was still in wrestling shape. Polowy: Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine Faz. Fazoli nods his head, not believing it for a second. He had known Michael Polowy for many years, long before he was the sVo champion. He had held him in his arms in the hospital on the night he was born, and watched on with pride as he grew into a young man. In many ways, he knew Michael Polowy better than Michael Polowy knew himself, and right now he knew that his young protégée was lying to him. Fazoli: I didn't ask if you were okay, I asked how you were doin'. If you're gonna lie to my face, at least pay attention to the damn question, capiche? The corners of Polowy's mouth turn up into a half-grin. Despite himself, a chuckle escapes from deep within his chest, nearly surprising him. Polowy: Sorry, man. I really am okay, just a little distracted. Fazoli: I would be too, if I'd just fried my brain on six hours of the same fuckin' loss, kiddo. You're beatin' yerself up for no reason. Polowy grunts. He knows that his mentor is right. But, as usually happens when he realizes that he's wrong, he refuses to truly believe it, much less admit it out loud. Polowy: I had him, Faz. I had it in the bag, before that son of a bitch All-Star showed up. Fazoli shakes his head. He'd been wrestling long before his young client had ever been born, and he'd learned a long time ago that one loss is just that: one loss. Deep down, it hurt him to see his young friend taking this so hard. But at the same time, he knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do to change it. Fazoli: Well, you'll be happy to know that you'll have your chance this week. The boys upstairs figured you'd try and get some revenge this week one way or another, so they're gonna try and cash in on it. You've got All-Star this week in a tag match. Polowy: A tag match? No, no, no... it can't be a tag match. I wanted All-Star alone! Why in the hell did they book me in a tag match when I wanted him one on one? This is bullshit, I'm gonna call Moretti and give him a piece of my... Fazoli: Whoa, settle down, kid! Look, calling Moretti and yammering at him like you do every fuckin' week ain't gonna make a bit of difference. You're just gonna get yourself into deeper shit. I asked Moretti for the singles match, but he wouldn't give it to me. He says the 'board of directors' doesn't find it ethical to give away a perfectly good PPV match opportunity on Showdown. Polowy's eyes go wide for a moment, as he drops his jaw in total disbelief. Polowy: The board of... shit... are you kidding me? Well that's just great. I'll bet good ol' Jimmy went ahead and made Scuba Stevo his partner, too, huh? Just to rub some goddamned salt into the wound... he did, didn't he? Fazoli winces, wishing to every deity he can fathom that he didn't have to be the bearer of the news he was about to give. Polowy looks at him, staring in anticipation. Neither man has spoken since the question was asked, yet they both know the answer before Fazoli opens his mouth to deliver the bad news. Fazoli: ...well.... not quite... Polowy's face drops quite visibly, and his posture goes limp. His shoulders, slouched back, tell the sad tale of a man who's foreseen a most unfavorable fate. Polowy: He didn't. No way, Faz. He fucking didn't. There's no way. Moretti's an asshole, but there is no WAY he'd go this far just to screw me over. Fazoli: Look kid, I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do about this. This week at Showdown, it's you and Psyko Stevo against Johnny All-Star and Nick Etch. The champion takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to let everything sink in. For the last few months, Jimmy Moretti had done his best to make his champion's life hell, and in that venture he had succeeded. With the aid of a steel chair to the head, he had ended Michael Polowy's undefeated streak by feeding him to Spring Heeled Jack. With three days notice, he had double booked the champion on opposite ends of the country on the same night. He had locked him out of the arena, booked him against hordes of the most vicious opponents, and mocked every stumble in his step along the way. But now, here today, Jimmy Moretti had managed to outdo himself. No one, opponent or employer alike, had managed to tarnish the illustrious career of Michael Polowy more than Moretti, and now he'd done the unthinkable. He had put Michael Polowy in a situation he could not possibly make the best of. Polowy: ...Faz, what am I gonna do? Fazoli stares on at the champion. As his mentor, his manager, and his friend, he wishes more than anything that he could give him the answer to that question. Fazoli: I dunno, kid. I dunno. Polowy runs his hands through his hair, beginning to sweat. He thinks frantically, feeling his heartbeat beginning to quicken. It slams against his chest, nearly forcing him to the ground. He wracks his brain, feeling completely helpless for the first time in his career. Yet, no titles were on the line... no stipulations were in effect. In fact, there would be no obvious negative repercussions whatsoever if he didn't manage to sneak out a win this week. It was only a tag match. Yet somehow, it was so much more. Moretti knew that when he made the match. This match would be the beginning of the end. Polowy: I think... uh... I think I'm not feeling too well. I'm gonna try and get some sleep. Fazoli just nods, trying hard to force a smile that won't come. Without speaking it, both men understand the repercussions of a loss this week. The elder man turns to walk away, looking back once at the panicking champion. He's white as a ghost, and looks like he's going to be sick. Fazoli shakes his head, letting out a sigh as he puts his hands to the doorknob. As he steps through the doorway and out into the hallway, he barely even pauses his stride as the faint sounds of dry heaving can be heard coming from the room behind him. |
|
-The First Sanctioned Violence Organization World Champion -Winner of the Victory Cup | |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · sVo Showdown RP Archive · Next Topic » |








![]](http://imageshack.us/a/img688/1050/pipend.jpg)




6:55 PM Jul 11