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Tea Time - Alexander Owens; PRW's #1 Talk Show
Topic Started: Nov 3 2017, 02:41 PM (119 Views)
Paladin
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Paladins never forget.
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As PRW returns from commercial break, the camera reveals that the ring had been given a makeover. A rug had been placed over the ring, and on it sat a coffee table adorned with scones and a steaming pot of tea. Crew members were still milling about, making preparations for “Tea Time” when Paladin’s music hit. Instantly, they all started to boo as the man in the white motorcycle appeared on the ramp.



Paladin slowly rolled down to the ring, waving to the people as he went. The insults from the crowd could still be heard even over the sound of the motorcycle revving. Once Paladin got close to the ring, he pulled his motorcycle into the corner and parked it. The White Knight of PRW then pulled up the visor of his helmet, revealing his arrogant smirk to the PRW universe. With a chuckle, Paladin removed his helmet and made his way into the ring. He wasn’t just enjoying the crowd’s response: he was revelling in it. Even though all of them hated his guts, there was something comforting knowing that all eyes were on him.

Paladin made his way to the opposite end of the coffee table, placing his biker jacket on top of the chair revealing a new t-shirt underneath. The shirt had “Off With His Head!” printed on it in big red letters with a cartoon version of Paladin elbowing a man who looked eerily like Mordrad in the head, sending it spiraling into the air. Upon seeing it, the crowd began to chant Mordrad’s name. It had been a while since PRW’s resident monster had gotten such a positive response. When Mordrad attacked someone they liked, they would boo. But for Paladin? They wanted the monster to rip the Brit apart.

“Greetings one and all and welcome to the most sophisticated, the most respectable, the most gentlemanly show on PRW television.” Paladin paused, letting the noise from the crowd wash over him. “Welcome to Tea Time with Paladin.”

“Now, before I go on, there is something I wanted to address.” Paladin sat down in his chair and lazily placed his feet up on the table. “And those were the comments from Bane earlier in the day. Let me be clear: I dislike the man and everything he represents. His title, with all of its hardcore matches, represents everything wrong with PRW and you lot in the stands. But, for once in his stupid life, Bane was right. He said that, like him or not, you people are stuck with him. And frankly, he has a point!” The crowd fell silent.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m as upset about this as all of you. I don’t want to be stuck with him either. But it’s time to face the facts. I can say what I want to about the guy, but at least he shows up. Where is our champion? Where is the Ace or PRW?” The mention of Ace got a big response from the crowd. His absence has made their opinion of him grow fonder. “While he was busy taking a little time off, the rest of us have been left to carry this brand. And let me tell you one thing: I have wrestled around the world, but nothing compares to the grind of working in this company. I work my ass of each and every day to put on a show for all of you. So, let me make one thing absolutely clear…”

Paladin stood up. “You don’t have to like me, but dammit, you will respect me! Because like it or not, I’m the one you’re with.” The crowd booed more loudly now than they had the rest of the segment. Paladin stared right at the camera, making his message clear for both the audience in the arena and those watching at home.

“Now...that is enough about me. Tea Time wasn’t designed for me to have a chance to gloat in front of a captive audience. It was designed to give me a chance to interview one of PRW’s stars. I promised all of you tea, biscuits, and polite conversation. And I aim to please!” Paladin picked up a scone. “Unfortunately, those monkeys in the back could not find me biscuits on short notice, so I had to find a replacement.”

Paladin pointed to the titantron where the name Alexander Owens appeared to a big pop from the crowd. Paladin, meanwhile, took a bite of his scone and settled back in his chair.
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MrBiscut
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flash=150,110]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRvCvsRp5ho[/flash]


Walking out from the back, dressed in jeans and long sleeve flannel shirt, Alexander Owens has a cock sure smile on his face. His demeanor is not as stern as it has been of late but he is still a little withholding on the energy. He gives some stout high fives and few fist bumps but the electricity is subdued as are the cheers. In fact there are is a small yet noticeable smattering of boos. Owens’s actions as of late has endeared him even more to the more hardcore fans but he was starting to lose some of the casual fans; especially in female and child sectors.

Ducking and rolling into the ring, Owens gets a mic and stands across from Mr.Rider. Looking him up and down, Owens smirks a bit then throws up the double hook em horns; getting a rolling echo of cheers and fanfare. Turning around, Alex can see that Paladin seems a little peeved by all the ruckus. Owens’s smile just grows a little. As Palladian picks up his mic to say something, Owens cuts him off.

Owens: Not to be rude old bean my fellow but I’d just like to say a piece or two before we begin. It’s great to be back in the UK. You guys just give a different level of tact to the atmosphere. I am truly lucky to be in a profession that afford me the chance to travel.

A cheap sell to the crowd but always effective ones, as Owens get a bubbling blast of cheers and encouragement.

Owens: Secondly and before we begin I’d just like to say something to you Mr.Rider. One thanks for honoring me with inaugural seat at your tea table but I’d like to make something clear. I don’t do smear journalism; especially directed towards me. Just ask Daniel Flouride. So if you’re just gonna use this platform to try to run amuck on me; I’d warn against it; comprende?

That last bit had a bit of curled sneered; a light baring of fangs if you will.

TBC: Paladin
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Paladin
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Paladins never forget.
Paladin raises his eyebrows as the crowd cheered for Owens. He had known that the cowboy was popular. That much was a given. But it was hard to imagine a wrestler being much more stereo-typically American than Owens. The man wore a bloody cowboy hat! And yet, the man managed to get more cheers then one of the United Kingdom's very own exports. Paladin raised an eyebrow as the crowd popped for the mention of "UK" by Owens. So that was all it took to get a response eh'? Talk about cheap pops.

Then Owens turned to Paladin and made his concerns about this interview clear. "I don’t do smear journalism; especially directed towards me. Just ask Daniel Flouride. So if you’re just gonna use this platform to try to run amuck on me; I’d warn against it; comprende?"

"Owens, come on, give me a little credit here. Tea Time is above smear campaigns. Everything I say will be backed up fact and Chicago style citations." Paladin leaned back in his chair. "I promised this show would be gentlemanly, and I aim to keep it that way. So, once again Mr. Owens, welcome to Tea Time, and welcome to the UK!"

Paladin suddenly stood up, waving his arms to the crowd, trying to get the same pop Owens did mentioning where they were. Instead, most of the people gave him boos, the rest chose to remain silent. It only appeared for a second, but Owens could swear that he saw a hint of disappointment pass appear on Paladin's face as he slowly sat back down. The Brit grabbed another scone.

"I appreciate what you do Owens. Always have. It's obvious to me that this crowd has a great deal of affection for you. After all, both you and the majority of this crowd are losers!" The crowd instantly began to voice their dissatisfaction, and Paladin began to yell into his microphone. "Oh, shut the hell up, you know it's true! How many PRW champions have come from England? I was blessed to be able to have my own personal Brexit and say goodbye to this bloody place when I moved to the states. God save the Queen? He can't even save the United Kingdom."

Owens had begun to stand up, but Paladin held up his hands for peace. "Woah, hey, settle down there cowboy. I promised you facts, and you gotta admit, I have a point. Factually, statistically, you are a loser. How many times have you even lost to Bane so far? Frankly, I can't blame the guy for continuing to take your challenges. He knows he'll keep coming out on top."

"So, the question is Owens, what are you doing to convince us otherwise? To prove the naysayers wrong?" Paladin shrugged his shoulders. "You've lost to Bane before. Why will this time be any different?

(TBC Owens)
Edited by Paladin, Nov 6 2017, 08:51 PM.
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MrBiscut
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Raising an eyebrow as he smiles, Owens can’t help it. Things like this, these segments were wrestlers work with other wrestling in a “talk show” setting; they always end in chaos. Owens was just waiting for the boot to drop. Till then...he’d at least have a little fun with the cocksure and headstrong “rookie”.

Owens: You want the prepackaged or real answer? Cause either one not gonna say much. Yeah, Bane’s beat me before. Hell, he’s beat me three and a half ways to Sunday,Monday and Tuesday. But he’s never broke me. He’s never made me regret or balk at the challenge. Bane and I; we like sharks in feeding frenzy. We smell blood and got nuts. Sadly Bane always been the nuttier SOB in our encounters. But come Christmas Carnage; I’ll remind Bane why he’s got no one else to challenge him. I don’t fear Bane. I don’t fear the pain he represent. I only fear what I’m gonna do to him to get that title around my waist. I’m only afraid of the places I’ll go to ensure that at night’s end he get the L and I get the W. Simple as that.

Owens leans back in his chair; grabbing at cup of bengal spice tea and proper cucumber sandwich as he waits for the asuradly cocky and swarmy retort from the well versed in the brutal art Brit.

TBC: Paladin
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Paladin
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Paladins never forget.
Paladin leaned back in his chair, taking in Owen's remarks. Frankly, he was expecting for the cowboy to get more riled up, but as always he was so...restrained. Paladin began to wonder if he truly understood what it meant to be in an "I Quit" match. This kind of match was as much physical as it was mental, and if Owens had any doubt in his mind, any hesitation to do what needed to be done to make a man like Bane surrender...then he had already lost.

"You never really change, do you Owens?"
Paladin began. The crowd had fallen silent, eager to hear the Brit even as his voice dropped. "You know, I thought it was very interesting hearing you speak about this match earlier in the show. You mentioned that you and Bane respected each other, even implied that you were friends. And now, with all the chips on the table, you say that you are afraid of what you will do to him."

"You and I both know that isn't a problem Bane will have." Paladin leaned forward, looking Owens in the eye. "I know that, as long as you've been in PRW, you probably think that you've seen it all. That you have what it takes to make it to the top. But I can see now that while you have been in many great wrestling matches, you haven't been a in a true war, fighting not for titles but for survival. Until you develop that attitude of being able to do what is necessary to win, you will never, ever, beat Bane."

Edited by Paladin, Nov 7 2017, 05:21 PM.
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MrBiscut
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Paladin has a rye smile on his face. He knows that his words were stinging ones. He truly believed he had just got the one up on Owens, finally ruffled the feathers of the big Georgian. And by all accounts and measures; he is right.

Putting his hand behind his head as he takes a sip of Bengal; Owens lets out one of those laughs that sounds like a deflating balloon reaching it end. It’s small but noticeable; a pitchy and scratchy weeze of sound.

Owens: You’ve got a great brassy pair down there don’t you? Well let me tell you something about my survival instincts. Two years ago; same exact event as I’m facing Bane, I tossed a man twenty-five feet over a barrier and into concession stand to make sure my professional life “survive”. Two months after that I beat that same man so badly that he disappeared for almost for over six months to lick his wounds and heal up just to make sure that my way of life “survived”. So don’t lecture me on survival. Don’t even begins to suppose I can’t go to dark places and do what I have to “survive”. You may have been a hot shot over the Atlantic, but here, in my ring; you’re just 6’7” of bullshit and bravo stack up in front of a man that’s strive,struggle,bleed, been broken and broke other people; all in the name of “survival” in this company. So check the attitude unless you want see just how capable I am of breaking a man.

Rider smiles. He had managed to get under Owens’s skin and now he wanted to go in for the kill. Adjusting himself in his seat, he leans forward, a cat after a canary grin on his face.

TBC
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KingsMan
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As Paladin lift his microphone to his pursed lips to fires off another thinly veiled insult aimed to get the burly son of the south steaming; the lights of the Arena cut out. Suddenly the titan-tron comes to life; its flickering light filling the arena with an eerie glow that only gets eerie as face comes into focus. It is the face of Kevin Mordrad . His piercing shale blue eyes are looking intently forward; almost as if he is looking directly at Paladin. In an instant, a red spotlight zeros in on Rider and Mordrad begins to speak.

Tsk...tsk...tsk. It that anyway to treat a guest Jackie? You are being a little rude to Mr.Owens. You might be foolish and prideful cur that lacks the will or brains to dig into a man’s past but what he says about his past is true. In all of Gate’s home only one name ever brought a shudder of fear to that abject fool’s body: Owens. But more so Owens is right about another thing: you obviously do not know your place or appreciate the world you have come into. PRW is not the world of amateur efforts like you can from. It is a place that is corpulent at times but also it is a land of violence and chaos were anything, *loud crash emits in the ring* , can happen. You would be well served to remember that.

A second spotlight; this one a white as a alabaster column, appears and highlights the where Owens had been sitting. In his place was a still and silent Mordrad. Before Paladin can ever register what just happen, the lights come back on as Mordrad flies from the chair. He drives Rider through his with a massive Lancer; sending bits of wood and felt flying through the air. On opposite side of the ring where Rider is now laying in baled up pain, is Scar Shadow and Maxwell Alex . Each is perched like a gargoyle; waiting to descend on Paladin in an instant.

Bending over,Mordrad picks up the mic that Rider had dropped in the collision and speaks.

After tonight are still sure you want to face me, little knight? Do you still want feel my wraith just so you can continue your foolish little crusade against violence? Well well; I accept the challenge and the chance to crack your skull open and see what makes you tick. But first a choice has to be made; Who will you face to earn a spot against me? Will it be my silent assassin, Scar Shadow? Or will it be my hotblooded heretic, Maxwell Alex?

Each man hangs on the edge of their respective turnbuckles, not letting on to who it might be. Suddenly and without a single sign, Maxwell leaps up high and drops into a still prone Rider with a picturesque 630 senton; drawing a huge oooffhhh from the crowd.

Well, well. The dragon arises and takes the charge. And so seals your fate. Good luck, Pale Rider. You’ll need it.

Mordradf drops the mic as Scar hops down from the turnbuckle and Alex rises up from the mat. But neither of Mordrad’s minions go far. Nearing the ropes, Mordrad pauses and turns around giving both of them a look; a look that means one thing: time to have some fun. In unison, Maxwell and Shadow lifts Paladin up into a crucifix postion. Walking forward, Kevin stoops down and has Rider placed on his shoulder. Then in a cataclysmic rush of fury, Paladin in brough down and around, crashing into the tea set adorned table with an Obsidian Apocalypse.

Their work done, the trio of dark souls exit the ring; leaving Rider writhing in agony in a mess of wood shards,smashed scones, shattered china, and splattered tea. The only question is: Where the hell is Alexander Owens?
Edited by KingsMan, Nov 8 2017, 03:13 PM.
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HARKERN TO MY RECKONING!


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