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Post by leoncorella on Nov 15, 2009 21:07:32 GMT -7
#Sunday Nov 15th 2009#
--Prologue-- [The scene opens up with Leon, wearing the usual assortment of expensive finery, standing before a camera against a backlit DCWL Banner.] Corella- With my recent performance in the ring being somewhat... lackluster... I feel that maybe I should do a little something about that. I have decided to forgo my usual, steadfast, one company philosophy and take a page from Maurice "The Native" Thompson's book. I am branching out a bit in an effort to smooth out my rougher edges. [...Leon lifts a hand to the camera, as if addressing a crowd...] ...What's that you ask? "Leon, you have money, why don't you just hire expensive trainers?" [...He lets that hand drop with a smirk...] ...Because a trainer can only teach you so much. The best education is the kind you learn first hand, from a real competitor who has just as much to lose in the ring as you do. So it is with this that I now give you my "debute" in a small company called Hell's Kitchen Xtreme Wrestling, based out of Vancouver, Canada. Watch and enjoy the show... ----------------------------------------------------------
#Saturday Nov 14th 2009 - HKXW - November Rain# [The scene then fades out to a small, Warehouse enterior that is only lit with two lights. One over the "Stage" which was merely a set of double doors lined with black curtains and two large speaker and subwoofer towers, and the other over a small wrestling ring. One could barely make out people sitting in folding chairs surrounding the ring, seperated by crude make-shift barricades. Standing in the ring was a man in a simple T-shirt that read HKW in a streaks of blood, blue jeans, and tennis shoes, a microphone in hand that marked him as the R/A. At one corner was none other than Leon Corella, decked out in full ring gear. Across from him was a blond spike-haired, muscular man that only gave up an inch in height to him and was wearing simple black trunks, boots, and wrist bands.] RA: In the left corner, hailing from Providence, Rhode Island, USA... *ANTI-AMERICAN JEER* [...Corella smirked as the crowd boo'ed at his American roots...] LLLLLEEEEOOOOONNNNN CCCOOOORRRREEEELLLLAAA!!! [...The RA then points to the opposite corner...] and his opponent! Hailing from the Providence of Quebec... *PRO-CANADA POP* VVVAAANNNNCEEE NNNNAAAPPPIIIIEEERRRR!!!! [...A rather portly referee in the standard issue black and white striped shirt and black slacks slips into the ring, motioning for the bell. The RA promptly exits...] [The match itself started with a show of disrespect, as Napier spit directly into Leon's face the moment the two closed the distance. It would prove to be a disasterous mistake as Leon took it as a personal slight, brutalizing the man from pillar to post for the first five minutes of the match with vicious punches, kicks, chops, and elbow shots.] [Eventually Napier did manage to battle back with a few well timed arm drags, the match quickly turning into a technical display shortly thereafter as the two men went into a brilliant chain wrestling routine. The two would duck, weave, escape, and break holds in a constant cycle, until Corella unleashed a devastating German Suplex throw that stunned Napier.] [Out of reflex, Napier rolled out of the ring on impact, and Corella followed after him. Out of sight of the referee, Napier leveled the playing field with a surprise lowblow that nearly dropped Leon right there. The Quebec native then promptly introduced Leon many times to the various objects around the ring. Napier slammed him into the barricade, bashed his face on the ring steps, and attempted to go for the big coup de' grace. That would prove to be his undoing...] [...Napier slung Leon onto the announcer's table, and climbed atop it with him. Picking him up, Napier ducked Corella down, and straddled his head, signalling that he was about to go for his big finish. Just as he ducked down, Corella sprung to life, wrapping his arms around the smaller man's legs, rising completely to a full stand, and then falling back, slamming through the table with Napier underneath him taking the brunt of the damage!] [...Rising from the wreckage, Corella picked Napier up and quickly flung him back into the ring. Getting back in, he posed for the crowd, arms stretched and muscles flexed as he let out a proud roar. He then gathered Napier up by his head, and flung him straight for the ropes!] [...On the rebound, Corella caught Napier, whipped around, and planted him with a stunning Lion Slam spine buster! On impact, Corella then grabbed both of his legs, hooked them under his arms, stepped over the small of his back, and lifted Napier up into an elevated Boston Crab he called "The Walls of Perfection". Over and over, he yelled 'TAP! TAP!' and after only seconds of painful body contortion, Napier tapped like his life depended on it!] [Corella promptly released Napier as the Referee came around and lifted the man's hand in the air. The RA quickly slid into the ring to make the announcement.] RA- HERE IS YOUR WINNER... LLLLEEEEOOOONNNNN CCCOOOOORRRREEELLLAAAA!!! [...The crowd was mixed in it's reaction, and Leon merely let loose a smug grin as he ate it up on a silver spoon. The scene fades to black on that note...] ----------------------------------------------------- |
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Post by leoncorella on Nov 22, 2009 8:22:29 GMT -7
#Friday Nov 20th 2009 - SGWF - House Call# [We open with both competitors already in the ring, a South Georgia Wrestling Federation banner running along the side of it in red, white, and black colors. The arena was quite a bit larger this go around, being inside the Savannah Civic Center in downtown Savannah. A crowd of well over 400 of Georgia's finest residents overlook the proceedings. An R/A stands alongside a referee with a cue card, ready to announce the two competitors.] R/A- In this corner... [...He points to his left, directly at Leon Corella, decked out in a variation of his usual attire, a gold pair of tights with black strips on either thighs sporting more regal design work on them and his name in Old English gold stencil...] ...Hailing from Providence, Rhode Island. He stands at six feet, five inches and weighs two hundred and fourty five pounds! LLLLLLEEEEOOOOONNNNN CCCCOOOORRRREEELLLAAA!!! [The crowd gives a small cheer. The R/A then makes a sweeping arc with his hand, pointing at the man standing in the opposing corner. This was a rather large, stone-faced, powerfully built engine of destruction, sporting red tights, boots, knee pads, and padded grappling gloves, all baring the classic mark of the Sickle and Hammer. Black haired, He sported a buzzcut and a full chin beard. The Crowd boo'ed the man uproariously.] ...And his opponent, hailing from the frozen wastelands of Siberia. He stands at six feet, eight inches tall and weighs in at three hundred and twenty six pounds.... "The Russian Revolver" RRRRIIICHTTTEERRR LLLLLEEEEOOONNNIIIIDDDD!!! [The big man flexes for the booing crowd, and smiles, showing of a missing tooth as if a badge of pride. The R/A rolls from the ring and the Referee, a rather tough looking bald man, motioned for the bell.] [...Immediately the big Russian bolts for Leon with a surprising amount of speed for such a large man, his arm outstretched. Leon barely ducks and side steps, the big man barely stopping himself from running into the turnpost. He turns quickly, right into an oncoming punch from Corella that snaps his head to one side, but seemingly has no effect as he slowly looks back at Leon with a vicious and evil smile. Leon quickly peppers him with quick jabs, only to have his fist caught, and brutally wrenched into a wrist lock. The Big man then slaps his palm to Leon's chest, lifts him up, and pancakes him onto the canvas with brutal effect!] [..Tucking and rolling on impact, Leon quickly manages to get to his feet but the Russian was relentless! Richter was already on him yet again with a clubbing overhand blow that drops Corella to the canvas! The crowd boos and hurls insults at Richter as he props his foot on the downed Corella's neck, and simply shifts his weight upon it. Leon's legs pump and kick as he claws at that boot!] [...The big man then lifts his foot up, and stomps down on the back of Leon's head. Leon rolls to one side, grabbing the back of his head as pain shot down his spine. Clearly the big man was dominating early on, and didn't stop there as he marches over and picks Corella up by the back of his neck. Lifting him to his feet, the big man slung Corella over his shoulders, belly side up, and looked as if he were ready to finish the match. He twists his hips, and slings Corella into a powerbomb position. In a surprise move at the best possible moment, Leon hooks his legs around the big man's head and reverses it into a somewhat sloppy Hurricanrana, drilling Richter headfirst to the canvas with a surprising amount of force!] [...On impact, Leon rolls out of the ring, his face a grimace and his hand held to the back of his neck. Richter was a bit slow to rise, using the ropes to stand, but the venom in his eyes told the tale of a man that was not happy at all....] [...Richter rolls out of the ring, coming at Leon as the Providence, Rhode Island native leans against the barricade, seemingly for support. Just as the big man closes in, Leon turns around with surprising speed and nails him with a stunning punch to the diaphram that seemed to wind the Russian mauler! Leon then gets a running start, scooping the big man up and ramming his back straight into the ringsteps with a resounding *KERBONG!*] [...Leon steps back, letting the man fall to a seat, holding the small of his back. Grabbing the ring apron for support, he then proceeds to stomp and kick at the big man's chest and face in an effort to do as much damage as he can with this small window of opportunity! Richter surprises him by catching his foot, and kicking his standing leg out from under him, sending Leon for a crash landing on his knee. Corella grits his teeth and rolls to a staggered stand, holding onto that knee. Clearly this wasn't going to be an easy match for him just judging by the first five minutes alone...] [...Richter is back on his feet in short order, and already behind Corella before he can react. The Russian grabs him by the back of his head and his arm, and goes for an irish whip. Corella turns with the throw, hooks Richter's wrist, and pulls him into a drop toe hold which has Richter land forehead first into the oldschool steel ring barricades with a sharp *PINKT!* sounding out. Part of the crowd Oooo's with the man's pain in sympathy, the rest shout such fun things as "KILL THAT COMMIE BASTARD!"] [...Thankfully, there seemed to be no count out rule in this promotion. Richter held his forehead and barely held back tears of pain as stars and spots filled his vision. Gathering him up, Leon quickly slung the big man into the ring and quickly followed in behind him, hooking his leg for a quick pinfall attempt!] ONE.... TWO.... THR-KICKOUT! [Richter Leonid wasn't out of the fight yet, practically launching the 245 pound Leon Corella off of him with surprising ease. The Big man sat up and rolled to a staggered stand, quite possibly experiencing the effects of a mild concussion. That didn't matter to Corella, however, as he rose to his feet, slipped on a rear waistlock, and proceeded to hammer Richter with a steep angled German Suplex. He didn't release on impact, however, as he rolled back to his feet. He hit Richter with a second... a third... a fourth... and finally ended it with an over the top release that had Richter land squarely on his shoulders a few feet away from Corella.] [...He rises to his feet with his arms outstretched and flexed, his back bent at a slight angle with his chest out as if to signal dominance. His voice roars out over the crowd as if imitating a Lion. He turns, finding Richter stumbling towards him. Leon moves in, scoops him up, and plants him with that brutal, signature spine buster he calls, The Lion Slam! On impact, he goes for the pin, hooking the man's leg.] ONE!!! TWO!!!! TTTHHHRRRREEE-NOPE [Richter kicks out once more, this time only getting his shoulder up. Leon sits up on his knees, and motions to the ref with two fingers. The Ref replies with the hand gesture for shoulders up. He gathers Richter up, only to be surprised and pulled down into a rollup Schoolboy attempt! Leon thrashes wildly as Richter holds him down!] ONE!!! TWO!!!! KICKOUT!!! [Leon manages to power out of the schoolboy and the two back roll to their feet. Apparently it was back to square one as they stood only a few feet apart, circling each other with the workers walk...] [...Leon Feints forward in a false grapple attempt, but the younger Richter falls for it, grabbing at nothing but open air. Leon takes the man's arm, twists it into an arm wrench, and then brings him down to the ground for an inverted armbar! He holds onto him for several seconds, Richter in the worst possible position to try and gain leverage from. He slaps at Leon's back, but without a good angle, they serve as mere annoyances for the man. Leon wrenches back painfully on that arm and it's with a pure rush of adrenaline, that Richter roars and powers himself out of the hold, and in a surprise move, Rolls Leon over into another pinfall attempt!] ONE!!! TWO-KICKOUT!!! [...It wasn't a solid pinfall, Leon allowing a second count only out of surprise more than anything else. He kicks out of the hold and rolls to his feet only to catch a solid running kick straight to his chest from Richter that sends him right back down! The Russian Revolver wastes no time, moving in on Corella and applying a high torque chin lock. Leon thrashes his legs out, clawing at Richter's arms in an effort to escape. Richter shakes his head and roars various obscenities in his native tongue, demanding that Leon tap now or get his neck snapped!] [...Richter leans down, obviously talking smack to Leon and in a surprise move, Leon throws a leg up and catches Richter square on the nose with the toe of his boot. He fires off another such kick, and another, until Richter is forced to let go, the big man staggering back into the turnpost...] [...Leon rolls to a stand, taking only a moment to tweak his neck left to right. He barely has time to duck as he turns right into an oncoming Red Train. As he side steps, he plants a solid gut shot that doubles Richter over, then drops, and hooks his legs with a low clothesline sweep! Wasting no time, Leon then straddles Richter's back, and locks on an elevated Boston Crab he calls, "The Walls of Perfection!"] [...For several seconds, Richter struggles in the hold, clawing at his hair and roaring in pain. He pounds the mat with his closed fist, but can't seem to find the leverage to break the hold. Finally, he snakes his hand out, and taps the canvas in defeat. Leon slings his opponent's legs down and throws his fists into the air as the R/A makes the announcement...] R/A- HERE IS YOUR WINNER... LLLLLEEEEOOOONNNN CCCCOOOORRREEELLLLLAAAA!!! [...He took in several deep breaths as he stood there, looking back at the crowd with intensity in his eyes, Muse's cover of "House of the Rising Sun" playing out loud and proud over the house PA...] #THERE IS.... A HOUSE.... IN NEW ORLEANS..... THEEEEYYYY CCAAAALLLL THA' RRRRIIIISSSIINNNGGG SSSSUUUNNNN!!!# [...The crowd cheered wildly as Leon ascended the nearby turnpost, throwing his arms up in poised fashion, soaking in their adoration at that moment...] #...AND IT'S BEEEENNNN THA' RUUUUIIINNN OF MANAAAYYY A POOOR BOOY... AND GOD... I KNOOOOWWW I'M ONE!!!# [...Fade to black...] |
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Post by leoncorella on Nov 29, 2009 12:39:49 GMT -7
#Sunday Nov 29th 2009 2:08 PM EST# [Leon Corella spent the next few days following DCWL's Black Hole Brew recovering from his match with Big Mike Foyer. It was a brutal and unforgiving experience for which Leon felt nothing but deserving of, as when they had last met, it was he who left Big Mike Foyer laying in a pool of his own blood.] [Despite that, and his physical condition, he accepted another appearence, this time a hardcore match, at HKW for roughly $2500 against Morgan Blackhand, a hardcore favorite in the promotion with solid submission skills and a nasty disposition for the sick and twisted side of violence.] [At first, the match seemed to go Leon's way, with him completely dominating the less experienced wrestler in the early goings until they both fell up and over the ropes with a flying clothesline from Blackhand.] [...Blackhand managed to turn the tide with a solid chair shot to the side of Leon's head that effectively stunned him. This was followed up promptly with a faceplant DDT on said chair which bloodied Corella's nose. What followed was a savage display of 2x4 shots to Leon's ribs, followed by Morgan singling out the body trunk with a long and drawn out, high angle Straight Jacket stretch.] [...Leon managed to fight his way out of the hold, but a tire iron to the stomach followed by a fire extinquisher to the forehead would completely rock the man off of whatever game he had left.] [...Blackhand would hit his finisher, a variation of the Kong buster he called "The Hospital Trip" and quickly got a 1..2..3.. on Corella. Some called it a surprise, but Leon felt otherwise. What had happened at Black Hole Brew had clearly affected him in an adverse way.] [...Later on that night, the camera opens to find Leon seated in a dark hotel room, staring out the window over the glittering city lights of Vancouver, still wearing street clothes and on the phone.] Corella- Yeah... I know honey... I probably shouldn't have accepted the match, considering how I'm feeling... [...He shook his head...] ...No I can't come home yet. I have to fly out for a match for Spirit of Wrestling. Yeah, of all the tools from wrestling's past I have to face, it'd have to be that waste of genetic material, The Street Samurai... [...There was something to the effect of a giggle over the phone speaker, followed by more unintelligeable words...] ...No, he makes all wrestlers look bad. The man's all flash and no substance. He takes the sport for granted and has no respect for anyone. [...He furrowed his brow a bit as more gibberish responded...] ...I... that isn't fair, you know I wasn't in my right mind back then... [...more gibberish, followed by Leon shaking his head...] ...I know, and I deserved every second of Big Mike's wrath. I wronged him, and I knew eventually I'd have to deal with it... ....Megan... I'm not going to quit because of BMF. I'll face this challenge and overcome it. I won't let things get like they were before... [...Extended gibberish this time...] ...What do you mean they already are? Oh you saw what I did to Doug Foster. Look, I couldn't let him get away with that. With DCWL letting stuff like what happened with Maurice run rampant, you sort of have to take the law into your own hands... [...He shook his head...] ...I knew I wasn't going to get any justice. The man isn't a contracted wrestler with DCWL, so there isn't much Kevin Alloy or Kyle Hayden could do about his attack, even if they chose to. I had to make a statement. [...A soft sigh followed the next line of gibberish...] ...Yes dear, I'll be careful. Tell Lionel and Linda I love them, and Daddy will be home for the holidays. I promise. [...He smiled suddenly...] ...I love you too. Goodbye.... [...Leon hangs up the phone and leans back in his chair with a long, extended exhale. The scene fades to black...] |
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Post by leoncorella on Dec 26, 2009 17:23:32 GMT -7
#Entry#
#Saturday-Dec 26th 2009# [The days following DCWL's Tripokalypse and the subsequent celebration night were uneasy for Leon Corella. While running the last leg of his tour of the year, he shared many phone conversations with his wife regarding Big Mike Foyer, the video he sent out, and the damage that has been done to Leon's once perfect home life.] [On the 21st, he made his scheduled appearance at Spirit of Wrestling's Sundown event, tag teaming with Shadow X, and The Street Samurai Spade against Doug Foster, The Faction, and Waltraud Mezger. The Match would be a rather explosive affair as the two teams practically tore into each other, but in the end, Leon's side prevailed through Foster disqualifying his team after using a chair on Spade's jaw. This act now has cemented Corella's utter lack of respect for Foster to a point that he won't even mention the man's name on air.] #--December 22nd 2009 4:30 PM--# [Once he got home, Leon was greeted only by his wife and 6 year old daughter. Shortly thereafter, he would have a talk with his son in private...] [...The scene opens in a bedroom decorated by wall posters depicting contemporary greats such as Gabriel Van Zahn, Spooky DooM, "Vile" Vince Viper, Marcus "The Dream" Davis, "Werewolf" Gregorson, an old IGA Poster, and even a Warren Epic "RIP" poster. Sitting on a bed looking out a window is a boy of roughly 15 years of age with jet black hair, and tanned skin sporting shorts and a black and green DCWL T-Shirt. In his hands is a Sony PSP with which he was playing a copy of Shootfire Pro Wrestling - 2010. There is a knock on his bedroom door, which causes him to avert his eyes, shutting off his game...] Boy- The Door's open... [...Leon Corella steps through that door, sporting one of his logo-wear T-Shirts, blue jeans, and sneakers, a look of concern on his face. The boy, obviously his son, looks away from him and out the window...] Leon- ...I didn't see you upfront, Lionel, so I assumed you were in here... [...Lionel doesn't respond, simply shrugging his shoulders. Leon steps into the room, pulling a chair from by the door and settling down by the bed...] ...Look, Son, I have wanted to tell you the truth about what happened with Mike a long time ago, but I felt that I needed to do something of significance... something to show you that I'm not what I was... [...The boy whipped his head over his shoulder and sported a withering stare worthy of his father's own legendary scowl, catching Leon off guard a bit...] Lionel- ...Big Mike was my friend, Dad. He worked on cars with me all the time, and when he lived here, he helped me with my computer too. You lied to me and told me he moved back to Texas because his uncle was sick! [...Leon's jaw set a bit and he took in a deep breath...] Leon- ...I told you that, because the truth would have made you sick, Son, and it looks like I was right. It was me who was sick. I was sick in the head, and I needed professional help... [...Lionel scoffed a bit and looked away. Leon's gaze narrowed and his brow furrowed...] ...Don't you look away from me when I talk to you! [...The boy rose from the bed, and started to head for the door, but Leon stops him with a grasp of his wrist. Lionel looked over his shoulder at his father, tears in his eyes...] Lionel- ...I used to have so much respect for you, Dad. I used to think you were the greatest wrestler who ever lived! I wanted so much to be you and make you proud... [...Lionel's lip trembled as he looked upon his shocked father...] Leon- ...Son... Please I... Lionel- ...No, Dad. I don't want to be a wrestler anymore. If it means taking a big hammer and smashing my friends, then no, I don't ever want to be a wrestler as long as I live! [...Lionel stormed out of the room, leaving Leon speechless and in absolute shock, his hand held out where he once held his son in place...] [...Later that evening was not much better, as Leon confronted his grandfather...] #--December 22nd 2009 7:12 PM--#
(Later that same Day) [...A similar looking room in the same house is what we open to this time, only we find it much more barren and empty, a suitcase open and filled with folded clothing. Here we find the 84 year old Lucien Corella in a simple polo shirt, brown blazer jacket, and khaki slacks, folding a shirt and neatly packing it into his suitcase, followed by it's closing. There is a knock on the door. Lucien's head lifts...] Lucien- ...Who is it... [...On the other side of the door, we hear Leon's voice...] Leon- ...Leon... [...Lucien immediately goes back to what he's doing...] Lucien- F**k off.... [...The door creeks open and Leon steps through, taking in a deep breath...] Leon- ...Now Grandfather, I know you're not going to be pleased.... Wait... Why are you packing? [...A look of puzzlement spreads across Leon's face as he looks upon the suitcase, then back to his Grandfather, who remains facing away from him...] Lucien- I've booked a flight that leaves 4:30 AM tomorrow for Vienna. Your wife will be taking me there. I'm going to go stay with my Nephew, Octavius. At least he has two good, healthy sons who will keep the Corella name and tradition alive and strong... [...Still puzzled, Leon steps up to Lucien...] Leon- ...Why? [...It was then that Lucien turned to face his grand son, his eyes wide with consternation...] Lucien- You dare ask me why? I saw that video. I saw what you did to that boy. No Corella would EVER be that disgraceful... EVER... Even your Father had limits to how low he would sink! [...Leon's head lowered and his eyes closed as he let out an exacerbated sigh...] Leon- Grandpa, I got help. I bettered myself, and I have done nothing but elevate myself, our honor, and the family name ever since! [...His head lifts, looking back into his grandfather's eyes...] ...Why should it matter now? It is in the past! I'm doing everything in my power to never be that way again! [...Lucien suddenly let out a low chuckle through a crooked grin...] Lucien- ...Boy, you still don't get it. Things like that stay with you for the rest of your life. You stained our family name, and have brought ever lasting shame to the name, Corella. It doesn't matter how many championships you win, or how much better you act... [...The grin fades, giving way to a hard, intimidating stare. The old man points a finger at Leon...] ...We are our most true at our darkest hour, and you showed me the real you. You showed me that you are not worthy of the great name you were born with. I have been in talks with others in the family and I am not the only one alone in this... [...Leon arches his brow, his head tilting ever so slightly...] ...The moment you lost yourself in KAWF. From the very first time you took that damnable hammer to someone, whether they deserved it or not, cemented your fate... [...His puzzlement continued as he finally managed to break his Grand father's diatribe...] Leon- ...What are you saying...? [...Lucien's expression becomes rather cold and solemn...] Lucien- You are a Corella only in name, and from this point forward are no longer my Grand son... [...Leon's eyes widened in shock, and he stumbled back, nearly falling off his feet...] Leon- But... but Grandfather I... [...Lucien pointed his finger once more at Leon, tears were in the old man's angry eyes...] Lucien- ...There is no discussion. It has been decided, Leon. You have been removed from the family tree and are to no longer refer to any of us as your blood. You are tainted, cursed, and I blame both myself and my son for how you have turned out.... [...With that, Lucien snapped his suitcase shut, and stormed out of the room, leaving Leon to lean against a wall and then slide down it until he was sitting on the floor, staring off into space in pure disbelief...] [...The Christmas holiday that followed was equally shot to hell, and he found himself in a deep depression that, even with his wife's support, he couldn't dig himself out of.] |
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Post by leoncorella on Dec 28, 2009 18:22:11 GMT -7
#--Entry--#
#--Dec 28th 2009--# [Following the discovery of his personal affairs being broadcast over the internet, Leon Corella had personally and rather destructively, removed all hidden DCWL Cameras from his home, and then proceeded to harass the production van outside of his fence until they left. What follows is footage of that moment...] [...The scene opens with two men sitting inside a white, windowless panel van. One is a rather skinny, pale young man wearing a hoody and jeans in the front seat. The other is a rather portly older man with a shaved head and a shaggy unkempt beard in a black jacket, an Affliction brand T-shirt, faded jeans, and loafers tending to several monitors, each of which had a view of Leon's home. One by one, they go fuzzy.] Fat Tech- Hey, Johnny... [...The man in the front seat sits up with a grumble, having apparently been napping...] Johnny- What do you want, Roger? Another twinky you fat f**k? [...Roger shook his head...] Roger- No, something's happening to the feed, it's cutting out room to room. We've even lost the garage... [...He flips a few knobs, and Johnny settles back down...] Johnny- ...I told you not to use that cheap Malaysian shit, didn't I? [...Suddenly the van rocks violently from a vicious blow that leaves a massive dent in the side of the vehicle. A familiar voice roars from outside...] Man Outside- GET THE F**K OFF MY PROPERTY YOU PAPARAZZI WANNA' BE SONS OF BITCHES!!! [..Roger and Johnny both jump with a startle. Suddenly the passenger side window is busted out with the head of a standard issue Sledgehammer...] Johnny- HOLY SHIT BALLS!! HE'S GOT A HAMMER!!!! [...He turns the key, but the vehicle stalls in the cold, icey weather. Several slams are heard outside as more dents are formed on the side of the wall...] Roger- GET US THE HELL OUTTA' HERE JOHNNY! Johnny- I'M TRYING DAMNIT!!! [...Suddenly a bundle of wires is flung through the window, attatched to micro thin cameras...] Man Outside- AND TAKE YOUR GODDAMNED CAMERA'S WITH YOU!!! NOBODY SHOULD HAVE SEEN ANY OF THAT!!! [...Johnny keeps trying to crank the van. Suddenly one of the back door windows bursts out, sending glass flying at Roger, who immediately throws his arms up in a defensive posture...] Roger- PLEASE MR. CORELLA!!! WE WERE ONLY DOING OUR JOB!!! DON'T HURT US!!! [...This time a violent impact is heard on Roger's side of the van, one of his monitor's exploding in a shower of sparks...] Corella- THE HELL YOU WERE!!!! That was PRIVATE!!! [...Finally Johnny got the van started as the wind shield caved in from a sideways blow from Leon's hammer. Johnny punched the peddle and peeled rubber as they floored it down the road. Suddenly the view shifts to outside the van, from one outside camera, Leon flinging the hammer at the back of the Van with enough force that the backdoor latch popped open. The hammer hits the ground with a loud clank, as Leon watches them leave. He sports only a pair of slacks, bare feet, and a tank top. Looking around, he spots that camera, and walks straight for it!] [...Upon arrival, he grabs the camera, yanking it up and pulling it directly to his face...] Corella- I'm not paying one goddamned cent for this, Mr. Hayden. You can count on that. No longer will your cameras be allowed into my home again... [...Suddenly the scene goes wild as we hear the sound of the camera being slammed repeatedly into the ground until finally, the feed cut.] |
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Post by leoncorella on Dec 29, 2009 17:02:36 GMT -7
#--Entry--#
#--Dec 29th 2009--# [With regards to his actions yesterday, Leon Corella arranged a quick webcast only press conference in an effort to release a statement on the matter.] [We open upon the DCWL Grand Champion, sporting a dark maroon dress shirt, black leather jacket, charcoal slacks, his favorite platinum Rolex, and, of course, the DCWL Grand Championship itself upon his right shoulder. His eyes sport the dark rings of a man who hasn't slept, his hair blond hair hastily combed back, and his face sporting a thick five O'clock shadow. Clearly he was a man under a great deal of stress. Grabbing the microphone, he proceeded to address the gathered men and women of the press...] Corella- Good evening to you all, I'm glad you could make this very impromptu gathering. Before we begin, I wish to make a statement... [...Clearing his throat, Leon gathers a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and gives it a quick glance over. He then averts his eyes back to the camera. A few cameras are heard clicking and flashes are seen as photos are quickly taken...] ...Yesterday, I let my temper get the better of me when I had learned that my private misfortune has been made into a very public affair. To the men in the Equipment van that was parked outside of my home, Roger Benson and Johnny Boro, I give you my sincere apologies... [...He took a moment to look around at the gathered press before continuing...] ...You were not responsible for the broadcasting of my private life, and it was by my own volition that the cameras were allowed in my home in the first place. I signed an agreement with the DCWL, but under the impression that the utmost discretion would be observed... [...Leon lets out a soft sigh...] ...As I am not a fan of Television programming in general, I did not realize the sensationalism that follows Reality TV and even though this is a webcast based program, it is not exempt from the rules of Televised programming. I have made amendments to my agreement with the DCWL in closed sessions to avoid further incidents such as this one... [...He looks back down at the paper, then back to the camera...] ...From now on, there will be no more cameras in my home. If they want to know what I'm up to, they'll send a full camera crew down with advanced warning. What had occurred at my home before the Christmas holiday was meant to be kept between myself and my family in private. ...It is no excuse for my actions, and in retrospect I realize they reflect badly on myself and the brand that I represent as a member of the DCWL locker room. I also offer my apologies to the DCWL for any embarrassment or shame I have brought upon the company. [...He straightens a bit, looking to the reporters now...] ...I will now take your questions. You there... [...Leon points off to his left...] From the United Sports Press... [...A high pitched male voice sounds...] USP- Yes, Mr. Corella. How will this effect your upcoming match at DCWL's "The Year We Make Contact"? [...Leon clears his throat...] Leon- Despite the gravity of what has happened in the last few days, I am focused and will be quite ready in time for the six man tag involving myself, Mad Cow, and The American Freebear against The New Main Street Killa's. [...He points to his right now...] Yes ma'am... You from Women Like Wrestling Too magazine? [...A surprisingly cheery sounding woman responds off camera...] WLWTM- Mr. Corella, what about Cornerstone Revolution? Any ideas on who you will be defending your championship against at the event? [...He looks off for a moment, stroking his chin with his thumb...] Corella- Honestly, I'll just leave the possibilities open for debate... [...Another hand raises, and Leon points to it. A man's voice sounds..] Reporter- Joe Koss from Anarchy Monthly... What are you planning to do in retaliation for what Big Mike Foyer has done in disrupting your home life and peace of mind? [...Leon's head lowers and he grips the podium with both hands. After taking in a long, drawn breath, his head raises as he shoots a steady, intense gaze at the camera...] Corella- ...Watch DCWL's "The Year We Make Contact" to find out. No more questions. Thank you for your time, everyone... [...With that, Leon steps back from the podium as the reporters begin to buzz with questions. Leon steps off camera and to the back. Fade to black...] |
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Post by leoncorella on Jan 6, 2010 18:54:55 GMT -7
#--Entry--#
#--January 6th 2010--# --One Year Older... January 1st 2010-- [The birthday party wasn't much of a celebration, even if it was the mark of a new year. Leon spent much of sitting alone in his home gym working out like a machine while his wife and kids vacationed in Switzerland. That wasn't his idea either. Mrs. Corella felt that with all the tension, they needed time apart and Leon felt he needed to step his game up now that he was a champion.] --January 3rd 2010... MMA Training, the Hardway-- [Leon made an appearence at the Cow Palace in San Fransisco, CA for Brutal Path Fighting, making his very first MMA Debute in preperaion for his match at NJWF's Kingdom in the Sky, and his subsequent appearence at DCWL's "The Year We Make Contact." He sported black and gold shorts, hand tape, and little else in the form of protection. His match was against a former BPF Heavyweight champion, Toby "The Fixer" Morris, a bald, tattooed, and powerfully built African American known for his rapid fire combination assaults, powerful fists, and incredibly cocky attitude. The match was a simple one on one, best two out of three five minute rounds inside a standard issue octagon...] [...The first round of the match had the two feeling each other out. Leon showcased a height and reach advantage over the 6' 3", black trunk wearing brawler, but Toby would catch him with a surprise elbow that sent the DCWL Champion staggering back and ducking for cover. The time would run down with Leon barely surviving a brutal ground and pound from the superior MMA Striker. Round 1 goes to The Fixer...] [...Already sporting a small cut on his forehead and one swollen eye, Leon would go into Round Two with a very quick and sudden Lionslam, quickly following up into a full mount. For close to a minute the two struggled on the mat as Leon tried to apply his modified Keylock. Eventually Morris fought out of it and the two were back on their feet. The two closed in and out of nowhere, Leon lays Morris flat out on his back with a solid Uppercut blow. Just as he is about to follow up the five minute timer runs out and the two are sent to their corners. Round two clearly goes to Leon Corella...] [...And along came round three and both fighters go all out. Morris nails several impressive, brutal shots to Leon's face, knocking him down, but Leon would backroll and get to his feet, showing amazing resilience despite his hamburger-esq face. The match was ended with a strike, but it was not the steel-esq fist off Toby Morris that would do it. In an amazing display born out of desperation and a great sense of timing, Leon jumps straight up, and rams his knee right into the ducked head of The Fixer, dropping the man to a seat where he would stare ahead, dazed as blood began pouring freely from his freshly broken nose...] [The Referee stopped the fight at four minutes and fifty three seconds. By TKO, Leon Corella's hand was lifted into the air, and both he and The Fixer would share a respectful handshake upon the conclusion of the announcement.] [...All this, Leon did in preperation for the stormy road that lies ahead...] |
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Post by leoncorella on Feb 5, 2010 18:07:08 GMT -7
#--Entry--#
#--Friday, February 4th, 2010--#
#--Dr. John Paul Forrest Private Medical Practice--# [The scene opens with Leon Corella, decked out in street clothes and seated in a doctor's examination room. He looks battered, exhausted, and only a day had passed since his ill fated match against The American Freebear. A door to the left of the camera opened up and in stepped an elderly Doctor whose name tag on the breast pocket of his lab coat read- "Dr. Forrest M.D."] Forrest- Well Mr. Corella, we put a rush on the blood work like you asked. Tell me again what happened? Corella- I don't know what happened, I just know that during my match last night, my vision blurred, my muscles started going weak, and I could swear I started to feel almost drunk... [...Forrest nodded his head and opened the manila folder in his hand...] Forrest- Have you been experimenting with any Muscle Relaxants? Flexeril, Zanaflex... maybe Robaxin? [...Corella's eyebrow arched...] Corella- No, I only use something like that when I'm on extended medical leave. Why, did you find anything in my blood? [...The doctor nodded his head and let out a soft sigh...] Forrest- Apparently, either you took, or were given a high dosage of prescription grade Robaxin, and Zanaflex. You are luck you have a good deal more body mass than the average man, Mr. Corella... [Leon's eyes went wide with shock and utter dismay...] Corella- That son of a bitch.... Big Mike, he must have done this! [...Dr. Forrest merely stood back and closed the manila folder, his hands crossed before him...] Forrest- There were no lasting effects, your system has already purged most of the drugs and the most you should feel is maybe a slight heaviness in your extremities for the next few days until the rest of the muscle relaxant has left your system. Be grateful, a less physically developed individual would have wound up in a convulsing, vomiting fit. [...Leon now quaked with rage, his eye twitching and his lip trembling...] Corella- That bastard made a fool and mockery out of me... He's cost me EVERYTHING.... [...The doctor held his hands up motioning for Leon to calm...] Forrest- Leon, I've been your doctor now for the last decade and a quarter, and you need to seriously consider calming down. High blood pressure and heart conditions run in your family... [...Corella snarled...] Corella- I will kill that son of a bitch.... KILL HIM!!! [...He then stormed out of the doctor's office, the scene fading to black...] ---------------------------------------------
#--February 5th, 2010--#
#--The Corella House, Providence, Rhode Island-USA--# [...The scene reopens, a day later, with Leon seated upon an ornate, high backed, black oakwood red cushioned throne by a firepace that bathed both him and the chair in a golden orange glow. With one leg propped on his knee, we find him shirtless, wearing only a pair of black slacks, leather belt, socks, and Italian loafers to match. In his hand is a glass of 20 year old scotch on ice, which he sipped leisurely upon. He sets the glass down upon the small end table beside him...] Corella- ...I have nothing left to lose. My wife filed papers for divorce, because she thinks I'm going to become a monster again and can't bare to go through it a second time, my family has disowned me, and my son hates me... [...He seemed surprisingly calm, a chilled, icy tone carried over in his voice, yet those eyes burned with the intensity of a thousand suns baring down on a dried, cracked desert wasteland...] ...and now I've lost the only prize I've ever had to covet, to a man that is undeserving of my championship. Big Mike, you've won. Congratu-f**king-lations... [...Leon held that glass up in a mock toast, and then took a deep swig off the scotch...] ...Give yourself a goddamned cookie... [...He took in another deep breath, and set the glass down...] ...but that victory comes with a price, Micheal... ...A price that can only be paid in blood... [...Leon leaned forward towards the camera...] ... Your blood... [...Slowly, he rose from the camera, ominous shadows dancing upon his features due to the flickering flames in the fireplace to his right...] ...You've done the one thing you should never have done, Big Mike... [...His face twisted into a sinister, wolf-like smile, his posture menacing and full of imposed threats...] ...You think you're a monster? I'll show you what a monster really is... [...Leon moved in, step by step, until he was face to face with the camera. His expression became more and more unnerving as dementia was clearly taking him over, those eyes wild and dangerous, that grin taking on a razor-sharp quality...] ...Mike, the man I used to be, was weak and powerless. The Man who came to DCWL was strong, and vibrant. The man I am now, has absolutely no bounds, no limits, and no mercy... [...Suddenly he snaps into frenzied anger, grabbing the camera up...] ...YOU WANTED THIS MIKE?! YOU WANTED TO SEE ME FALL?!!!! Well I've fallen, and now I'm going to take you straight to fucking hell WITH ME!!!! [...The camera goes flying, and with a sharp jerk, it lands in the fire. We see the flames lick around the lens for a few seconds as Leon stands back, gritting his teeth with frustrated anger as tears roll down his face, his hands running through his hair. The scene quickly blurs out, and blackens as the camera burns out...] |
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Post by leoncorella on Feb 22, 2010 7:38:44 GMT -7
#---Entry---#
#---Feb 22nd, 2010---# [The scene opens upon one Leon Corella, sitting in a folding metal chair residing within the basement of his home in the city of Providence, RI. He sports a black and white DCWL T-shirt, blue jeans, expensive running shoes, and that Platinum Rolex. We find him hunched forward a bit, whittling a piece of wood with a carving knife, his attention focused entirely on the work in his hands.] Corella- People say funny things. [He blew a bit of wood dust from the wood block, sending a fine cloud of tan out before him which quickly fades to nothing.] I catch alot of flak for not giving Maurice Thompson the nod in his match against me, and you know what I say? It's old news, he still looked good, draw your own conclusions if you don't believe me... [He took a moment to inspect the piece of wood before resuming that slow, steady whittling process.] ...Despite that, I'm catching alot of the same flak for what happened between myself and Freebear at the Klesvakanian Society. People are saying that I faked that whole visit with my personal physician, Dr. Forrester. [Carving off a rather large shard of wood from the block, Leon sent it flying off in a random direction.] Here's the thing, I give Freebear all the props in the world for even managing his win. I'm a big fan of achieving the impossibile and that was one hell of a feat, even though I was poisoned by Big Mike. I watch the footage and think to myself... "My god, how bad a beating Freebear would have gotten, had I not been sauced up on two different Muscle Relaxers?" [Leon smirked, blowing of another cloud of saw dust from the wood block.] Oh well, I guess things could be worse. It could have been Porno Anderson across the ring from me when the drugs kicked in. At least Freebear has some credentials on him. [The wood block was already beginning to take a rough shape at this point, almost like a small body with no features.] In a surprising move DCWL's fearless leader, Kyle Hayden, decided to give me time off at Lycra. I guess he thinks with the level of anger I have pumping through me right now, I'd probably either put someone in the hospital, or flat out beat them to death.
The man's right of course, I admit begrudgingly. You know what's funny about being a predictable creature of habit though? Even when you follow through with the course of action that people automatically assume you'll do... it's never exactly what they expect.
[He stopped for a moment, propping one elbow on his knee as he turned his head tot he camera.]
I do promise that I will be at The Devil Wear's Lycra, I do promise to do exactly what is expected of me as well, and I most certainly do promise that you still will be shocked by what you see...
[...His lip curled into a vicious half grin that spoke volumes of murderous intent.]
Destruction cometh; and they shall seek peace, and there shall be none...
[With that, he resumes his wood carving, the camera slowly fading to black.] |
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Post by leoncorella on Mar 1, 2010 11:38:20 GMT -7
#--Entry--#
#---March 1st, 2010---#
[On February 26th, he arrived at Hell's Kitchen Extreme Wrestling Federation out of Vancouver and had a rematch against Morgan Blackhand, who had defeated him in a hardcore match in their previous outing. Leon proved to be much more aggressive, violent, and ruthless than Blackhand. He lost the match again, but not by legal fall or knock out, but by disqualification, as Leon took a sledgehammer to the man's knee caps.]
[On the 27th he appeared at Brimstone Society Championship Wrestling during their monthly "Hell's Square" event in Midlothian, Illinois, facing off against an oldschool wrestling veteran with a matching voodoo-style gimmick, by the name of Big Poppa Grim Fandango. The man proved more gimmick than ability against the technical wizard that is Leon Corella, and was felled in less than five minutes by a Perfect Clutch submission. Leon nearly disqualified himself in that match as well, refusing to release the man from the hold once the contest was over, the referee giving a 4 out of 5 count.]
[All the while, he spent every waking moment conditioning, weight training, and otherwise preparing to put away the man he once called friend, Big Mike Foyer. Despite this, one thing did weigh on his conscience, the announcement that his opponent on Day one of Cornerstone Revolution 5, was Maurice Thompson...]
[...The Camera opened upon Leon drenched with sweat, seated on a weight bench wearing only a pair of sweat pants, and tape on his hands, wrists, and ankles. He dabbed himself lightly with a towel, taking in slow, controlled breaths as he gradually lowered his heart rate.]
Leon- I know why Kyle Hayden booked a match between myself and Maurice. He wants a big money match on the first day of CR5. I can respect that kind of reasoning, as that is the only kind of thinking that will save the DCWL in the long run.
[...He tosses the towel down on the bench and reaches off camera, gathering a water bottle from a cooler.]
However, it's no secret where my head is right now. Maurice is a good kid, but I don't think I'll stop at simply pinning him, or losing the match...
[Leon twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a swig.]
...Just two days after the "incident" at Lycra, I nearly beat a man to death at HKXW, all because he dared to laugh at me when the bell rang. Following that, I had to be pried off of the body of some Voodoo idiot before I broke his goddamn spine.
[His shoulders lower a bit, and Leon leans forward, staring down into his water bottle.]
I pride myself at always being in control of my body, my actions, and my will, and being able to stop when enough is enough. Even though Big Mike had it coming, I didn't stop until he ceased to move....
[Slowly those intense, ice blue eyes pan up to the camera.]
...I don't want to be responsible for ending a young man's career before it's had a chance to truly blossom. If Maurice Thompson's beginning is any indication of where he will wind up, then the DCWL is witnessing the birth of one of the world's greatest competitors.
[His jaw sets and his teeth clench.]
Hayden, I'm begging you... don't make me kill him. Win or lose, you know I won't be able to stop myself, not right now. Not until Big Mike Foyer is finished. Do the right thing. Insure this young man's future. Don't condemn it.
[Slowly, Leon rises from the bench and steps off camera. The scene quickly fades to black.] |
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Post by leoncorella on Mar 4, 2010 16:52:45 GMT -7
#--Entry--#
#---March 4th 2010---# [On March 2nd, Leon Corella made another appearance in an Indy arena, Diamond Back Wrestling, based out of a well furnished private warehouse located on the outskirts of Fortworth Texas.] [Leon was teamed up with a rookie talent by the name of "Pretty Boy" Vincent Marx, taking on the team of Crown Royal, formed by two individuals named Kevin Crown and Dustin Royal. Early on in this Tornado Tag Match, Corella and Marx were surprisingly dominant against the established tag team, but the match gradually turned sour after a running lariat from the 6' 8" Kevin Crown knocked the smaller Marx unconscious. From there, Crown Royal proved it's tag team chops by singling out Corella and despite a valiant fight, he was stunned by their tag finisher, the K-Duster and quickly rolled up by Royal for the pin.] [Afterward, he and the owner of DBW had a brief talk. DCWL Cameras were on the scene for this conversation...] [...We open to find Leon seated on a bench in a backstage locker room and still in full ring gear. He held a soothing pack of ice to the side of his head, and a pensive scowl on his face. Off camera a door is heard opening and Corella's gaze is averted as a significantly older man steps through the door.] [He stands at 6' 9" and sports a muscled frame covered in tattoo work from the neck down, a gray stubble beard, and a matching buzz cut with a receding hairline. We find him decked out in a black tank-top, black leather pants, motorcycle boots, fingerless gloves, and a black leather belt with a large silver belt buckle that read "Body Breaker." The man placed his hands on his hips as Leon rose to a stand, dropping the ice bag on the bench.] Corella- Thomas "The Body Breaker" Bane.... [Triple B smirked. When the man spoke, it was with a deep, rough voice of a man with a history of alcohol abuse and nicotine addiction.] Triple B- ...Hmph... "The Perfect One" Leon Corella... It's been a long time. Last time we spoke, it was shortly before you put my nephew on the shelf. [Leon's jaw set a bit and he took in a deep breath as he looked Triple B in the eye now.] Corella- I take it you want a little revenge too... [The Body Breaker shook his head, his expression unreadable.] Triple B- If I had wanted to do that, Leon, you'd have been right beside him in the hospital that night and in much worse shape. Let me explain something to you... ...I don't like you. In fact, I hate wrestlers like you. Whiny little bitches who let their emotions get the better of them and feel the need to share their pain with the world. [Leon's nostrils flared a bit, his brow furrowing in a flash of anger.] Triple B- I'd be careful about that temper in my presence, boy. The one and only time you and I ever tangled, I put your ass in a hospital. Leon- That was back in 1999, Bane, back when you were still in your prime... [Triple B suddenly broke out a rather dangerous grin at that point that left Leon a little unsettled...] Triple B- ...I'm so tempted to take that implied challenge, but I don't have the time and I'm not here to measure cock sizes. I'm here to tell you that what you did to my nephew at your DCWL show was well deserved. [The smile faded from Thomas Bane's face and Leon's brow was lifted with puzzlement, shock, and confusion all at once.] Leon- What? Triple B- You heard me. What happened with you two was over two years ago and at most, you deserved to get your ass kicked. He already did that upon his debut at your show. Anything after that is crossing the line, especially with him screwing with your family. [Triple B stepped in closer to Leon, a menacing scowl on his face.] Triple B- I don't approve of that shit, and I didn't teach him to use bitch tactics. If you don't kick the holy hell out of him at Cornerstone, not only will I do it myself, but.... [He pressed a finger into Leon's chest now, the two forehead to forehead as Bane practically towered over him now.] Triple B- ....I'll find you and make a greasy smear out of you. [Triple B stepped back from Leon now, his eyes steady, unblinking and unnerving to any who stared into them. As he exited the scene with the click of a door shutting, Leon glowered and spoke low through gritted teeth...] Leon- Don't worry old man, I'll beat him just so you won't have to embarrass yourself in public... [The scene fades to black from there.] |
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Post by leoncorella on Mar 13, 2010 17:30:58 GMT -7
#--Entry--#
#---March 13th, 2010---# [The scene opens upon Leon Corella, seated upon the top of a table, sporting a black and green DCWL ball cap, an orange tank top, light brown slacks, his favorite rolex, and expensive running shoes. Despite looking perhaps more ripped than ever, with bags under his eyes and a thick, bristly five o' clock shadow on his face. He looked directly into the camera with those intense blue eyes, a hint of regret within them.] Corella- ...Looks like I did go off the deep end again, despite all of the promises I made to you, the fans and most importantly... [His eyes lower, looking off below the camera.] ...My wife... [Moisture begins to build on the lower eye lids as his face twists into a frown.] ...Big Mike has cost me so much, and it's not because of his direct actions that he's won. It's because I let him win. I let him get to me, and now I have nothing because of it. [Those eyes avert to the left now, Leon propping his feet up on the bench in front of the table, his elbows resting upon his knees and his chin upon interlocked fingers.] Here I am making death threats against a guy who, despite being 17 years my junior, I respect probably more than anyone else in the DCWL, possibly even more than anyone I've met in my long and sh*tty career, and it's because my head is so f*cked right now I can't even think straight.
I want to be this great, legendary wrestler, but I'm such a weak f*ck that I let something like this happen to me, ME! I have all this experience at my fingertips, combined with skills that have been passed down and evolved from generation to generation for thousands of years, yet I lose out to a whiny bearded f*cktard and some doped up water.
[Leon looks back into the camera now, his brow furrowing and his jaw setting as determination quickly destroy the sorrow upon his features.]
No, I will not go out like some whimpering, pathetic little bitch! I swear, Big Mike will not be the better of me. He has triumphed again and again in this war, and it's only because I have allowed it. I allowed him to play me, and that ends at Cornerstone Revolution.
[He wipes the wet from his eyes and a bit of snot from his nose, sucking in a deep, quick breath.]
Maurice, I'm sorry for the things I said man. I didn't mean any of that bullshit, but I know that won't matter when we face off. All you need know is that I will be ready, and I will give you a great match, I promise. Hopefully our latest issues will be settled on Day 1 of CR 5 and we'll leave this behind us...
[Leon then leans in towards the camera.]
...And another thing Maurice, don't you dare let Freebear keep that belt. That is something I will be perfectly within my rights to hold against you.
[He points a finger directly into the lens, as if directly at Maurice, then lets it drop.]
I've disappointed so many people with my antics over the last couple months. I wish I could take alot of it back, but then if life had a reset button, I'd have gone back to the beginning of my career and did things right from day one.
[Leon hops off of that table.]
Now if you will all excuse me, I've got to go fix things with my family. I'll see each and every one of you in Toronto at the Skydome for Cornerstone Revolution 5.
[He then steps off camera, the scene slowly fading to black.] |
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Post by Jon A on Mar 14, 2010 19:56:24 GMT -7
HAYDEN: "Skydome?! Who's the idiot that booked us in the SKYDOME?! Oh man, like I'm not losing enough money in this craphole as it is..."
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