Post by necromorph on Dec 8, 2008 22:23:45 GMT -5
As the 12-2-08 edition of PWE TV Crimes returns from a commercial break before the main event, cameras are backstage, displaying a door entitled "COMMISSIONER'S OFFICE". One brief moment later, that door is no longer standing, as the Master of Disaster, Christopher Powell, storms into the shot, having kicked the door down mightily. He enters the office, and cameras follow him inside into quite an impressive room. Seated behind an antique desk is Mark Robinson, PWE Commissioner. Powell quickly advances, slamming his fists down onto the desk loudly, leaning over and snarling right into the face of Mark Robinson, scowling at him.
Powell: Hello....Commissioner.
A bit intimidated, Mark still plays it cool, pushing his glasses up his nose.
Robinson: Well hi Chris, how are you? Good to see ya.
Before he can say any more, the Suplex King seizes him by the collar, pulling him closer, nose to nose.
Powell: Your pleasantries matter not to me. If you waste my time with sentences like that again, you will have a short reign as commissioner.
Mark raises an eyebrow.
Robinson: Mr. Powell, I can already tell I'm not going to like you, so I'd like to make this as short as possible. Tell me what you want, and get out.
Christopher's face contorts with rage.
Powell: You fool! Do not speak to me like that again, or you will have broken bones that you didn't even know existed.....do you see these scars, Commissioner?
Bewildered, Mark's other eyebrow goes up now.
Robinson: Yes?
Powell: Good....I received them in Japan, the land of the rising sun....in so called "deathmatches", fights to the death...yet I survived those "deathmatches". I survived Death itself, Commissioner. Death can't stop me, and you certainly can't. Do not even try to.
Mark slowly nods, weirded out by the intense monster.
Robinson: I see....so what is it that you want?
Powell growls at him, pulling him even closer.
Powell: It's quite simple really...I already know many of these wrestlers, from previous battles and conflicts. If you're an effective, knowledgeable commissioner, then you'll know that I was victorious over Booker Washington tonight. But I want to face an old rival next week, say, Lance Castor, or Charles Forde. I have unfinished business with both of these men. I demand a match with either of them!
At this, a frown crosses the commissioner's face.
Robinson: I'm sorry Mr. Powell, I've already arranged next week's card, and I'm afraid that demand can't be met.
Powell's face twists into a snarl of rage.
Powell: You fool!
Robinson: Please, please, let me explain! They were already booked, long before you entered this office. However, you might be interested to know your opponent next week.
Mockingly, Powell replies.
Powell: Oh, really? Who might that be.....Commissioner?
Robinson: Well, I'd prefer not to give it away before he debuts, but let's just say that the man you are facing next week used to share a common enemy with you. I'm looking forward to the match quite a lot myself.
The Suplex King glares at the Commissioner, thinking. Finally, he releases and straightens up.
Powell: If you are trying to play mind games, "Commissioner", then they will not work. You still owe me my match....but you are safe for this week. We'll meet again.
Turning, Powell walks on the door, and exits the office, when all of a sudden....
TBC by Someone
Powell: Hello....Commissioner.
A bit intimidated, Mark still plays it cool, pushing his glasses up his nose.
Robinson: Well hi Chris, how are you? Good to see ya.
Before he can say any more, the Suplex King seizes him by the collar, pulling him closer, nose to nose.
Powell: Your pleasantries matter not to me. If you waste my time with sentences like that again, you will have a short reign as commissioner.
Mark raises an eyebrow.
Robinson: Mr. Powell, I can already tell I'm not going to like you, so I'd like to make this as short as possible. Tell me what you want, and get out.
Christopher's face contorts with rage.
Powell: You fool! Do not speak to me like that again, or you will have broken bones that you didn't even know existed.....do you see these scars, Commissioner?
Bewildered, Mark's other eyebrow goes up now.
Robinson: Yes?
Powell: Good....I received them in Japan, the land of the rising sun....in so called "deathmatches", fights to the death...yet I survived those "deathmatches". I survived Death itself, Commissioner. Death can't stop me, and you certainly can't. Do not even try to.
Mark slowly nods, weirded out by the intense monster.
Robinson: I see....so what is it that you want?
Powell growls at him, pulling him even closer.
Powell: It's quite simple really...I already know many of these wrestlers, from previous battles and conflicts. If you're an effective, knowledgeable commissioner, then you'll know that I was victorious over Booker Washington tonight. But I want to face an old rival next week, say, Lance Castor, or Charles Forde. I have unfinished business with both of these men. I demand a match with either of them!
At this, a frown crosses the commissioner's face.
Robinson: I'm sorry Mr. Powell, I've already arranged next week's card, and I'm afraid that demand can't be met.
Powell's face twists into a snarl of rage.
Powell: You fool!
Robinson: Please, please, let me explain! They were already booked, long before you entered this office. However, you might be interested to know your opponent next week.
Mockingly, Powell replies.
Powell: Oh, really? Who might that be.....Commissioner?
Robinson: Well, I'd prefer not to give it away before he debuts, but let's just say that the man you are facing next week used to share a common enemy with you. I'm looking forward to the match quite a lot myself.
The Suplex King glares at the Commissioner, thinking. Finally, he releases and straightens up.
Powell: If you are trying to play mind games, "Commissioner", then they will not work. You still owe me my match....but you are safe for this week. We'll meet again.
Turning, Powell walks on the door, and exits the office, when all of a sudden....
TBC by Someone
