Fourth Match

[Allura Desmonds]

Fourth Match
Singles Match
Johnny Reb vs Eric Hererra

RP Limit: 2 Per Person
Deadline: 06/23/19 at 11:59 pm eastern time
Grace Period: 06/25/19 at 11:59pm eastern time
Good Luck

[drowningcurrent]

Scene One
Promo

The scene opens up and we are in the All-State Arena in Rosemont, Illinois, home of SOW. Their first episode was this past week, a rising success. Eric was caught up producing that event along with his step-father Charlie Feigel. It had been a busy week preparing for ASW, the next show that followed. Now that he had a chance to catch his breath, he figured he would turn his attention to NCW. He is seen sitting behind the ring with the lights dimmed a bit. Once the camera gets closer, Eric nods and releases a sigh.

Eric: Last show I made my intentions clear when I called out Tyler Cross for what's supposed to be my championship. Tyler has had a pretty good run with it so far. He's arguably done more for it than I did ever since the championship changed companies. I did most of my work in AUW. But before I can get to that, I have to get past this guy named Johnny Reb.

He pauses as he looks up to the ceiling in deep thought.

Eric: Johnny Reb has been doing pretty good in this company racking up a fair share of wins, even though he just finished losing to Tyler Cross for the title. I respect this guy's approach to this business. He's a guy I would normally like to hang out with. Keyword being normally…

He trails off as a wide smirk forms on his face.

Eric: This isn't your ordinary Eric Herrera. In my time off, I have had a lot of thinking to do. A lot of time to evaluate what's my next stage in life. With Fathi betraying me in GFW, I no longer have to worry about what someone else thinks about me. The shackles are off. I can release my demons in the only way I know how.

He nods and chuckles.

Eric: Yes, it's true. I have decided to bring back the Prince of Punk, the King of the Underclass. Why? Because I feel ordinary Eric Herrera won't be enough, and that was proven when he beat me on my way out of this company. I was planning to face him again, but the higher powers decided to fire me and my family before I could get that done.

He scowls at the camera right after saying that.

Eric: As good a championship reign he's had, it could have been shorter had management not prematurely terminated my contract. But that's over with now. Now I get to release all this pent up rage the only way I know how. By being the most barbaric motherfucker this side of the United States. They don't call me the Hardcore Messiah for nothing.

He chuckles and nods.

Eric: So yes, Johnny Reb unfortunately has to become my first victim on my way back to getting back my championship. Trust me, I'm not here for just a simple victory. I'm here to send a message. That 277 day championship reign, which still stands as the second longest title reign in its history, was only the beginning. I'm back and this time I don't have anyone holding me back morally. I don't have anyone tugging my chain telling me to take it easy. You want a BAMF, you fucking got it.

He laughs and grips his hands together.

Eric: This is gonna be so much fun. Believe the hype. I don't need no introduction.

Fade to black.

Scene Two

Once the promo ends, Eric makes his way out into the backstage area. Vero and Rachel are seen moving stuff around for the next show. He goes to his nearby office and sits on the chair behind the desk and leans back. Vero enters the room and smirks.

Vero: I heard what you said in that promo. I am happy you finally broke out of your shell. I warned you that Fathi can't be trusted, yet you keep giving that man many chances.

Eric: You're right. But he's my cousin. I can't ignore him completely.

Vero: After all the times he betrayed us? Really? You didn't see what he did to Hector, Lance and Jay? Hell, what he did to End Effect the first time?

Eric: I know. And now he's teaming with my worst enemy. My rival since my rookie year. Brian fucking Kennedy.

Vero: If you even try to fall for him again, I'm gonna whoop your ass. As far as I'm concerned, we're done with him. And you should be too. It doesn't matter what sorry sob story he gives us to try to convince us otherwise. If you won't do it, I will.

Eric tries to interrupt her, but she's already left the room visibly pissed off. He shakes his head and grits his teeth.

Eric: Damn it. I didn't want her involved.

Fade to Black.

Scene Three

Eric has left his office and is now headed to the training school where he is met by Jay and Lance. They are in the conference room where they are showing Eric their last promo. Eric groans and drops his head into his arms.

Jay: I know you don't want to do it, Eric, but Fathi needs to be dealt with. He has betrayed you, Hector, Me, and Lance in consecutive weeks. It's clear as day he wants nothing to do with us anymore.

Eric: I know, but he's my cousin. I still care about him. He was like my best friend. I always made time to talk to him about whatever was on his mind. I'm confused as to why he would do this.

Jay: So are we, but we're not gonna let him get away with this. For a long time we have sat back in respect of him. We temporarily retired so he can have Southern Blood back. And what a big mistake we made. And that was proven last show when he attacked us. He clearly has no respect for us. Family has no more meaning for him anymore. It was all a ruse. So as far as we're concerned, Southern Blood is dead.

Lance: Yep, and it's place will be Lone Star Outlaws. We will be bigger than he ever was, I guarantee you that. We're done associating with him and so should you. So starting this show, you're coming with us. We're making sure that Fathi doesn't get involved once more. You deserve to get that championship back. Not that Muslim rag doll wearing son of a bitch. We'll send his ass back to Arabia where he belongs.

Eric: Not all Muslims are fucking evil…

Lance: I don't give a fuck. He can kiss our country ass for all I care. It's time we bring back the old Eric that didn't give a fuck what others think. And we will do anything to get that back. Enough talking, if you're gonna be a BAMF champion again we have to toughen you up. Let's go.

They stand up and head towards the lobby where there are several rings placed. They order some of the students to wrestle Eric in a handicap gauntlet match, even using weapons during it. Eric is seen struggling with it, but eventually eliminates a big portion of them. Once they're done, he flops to a sitting position and drinks from a bottle of Gatorade.

Jay: You have a long ways to go, but we still have time. We're not done yet. Get moving.

Eric gets up and walks out of the school with them as the scene fades to black.

[thenewcsa]

"Punk rock is very rebellious, of course,
but it also means thinking for yourself."
-Dexter Holland-



*The camera falls on the exterior of a ranch deep in the heart of Georgia. It is a beautiful place with a long dirt road surrounded by green grazing grass. the smell of Peach trees from a nearby orchard fills the air as one looks and sees horses in a nearby pen with a stable connected to it. Chickens peck in a hen house not far away as cows Moo from the barn. The small wooden bungalow has a beautiful wooden porch with a single double seat swing on it and an old white painted rocking chair. An old bloodhound lays on the porch as the camera pans up from him to the door opening and outsteps Johnny Reb in his simple attire. His blue jeans look nice and clean for once though his boots and spurs still are a bit dusty. As the camera pans further up we see his belt with the word "BAMF" spelled out on it looking like something out of Overwatch his shirt has the sleeves cut off revealing his muscular arms but on it is splashed the words "Whiskey Dick" on the front. A straw Cowboy hat decorates his head as his Oakley's reflect the sun. His face is bruised and cut in places as if recovering from a helluva fight yet he smiles brightly before turning to the dog who doesn't even raise his head. He pats him on the side as the Dog whimpers a bit*

J.R.: General. How y'all doin', boy?

*The dog just yawns in response as Johnny just sighs and walks down the steps of the porch toward the chicken coup.*

J.R.: Whelp. Time to go to work.

*Johnny moves through the coup as the chickens cluck around him grabbing a sack of chicken feed as he begins to spread it about feeding the chickens who happily cluck away in excitement. Slowly we fade into more of a montage of various activities. We see him shoveling the stables sweat pouring down his face as he loads up a wheelbarrow only to push it and dump it into a bigger stall pile outside. We see him lifting haybales up and over one by one to set feed for the cows. The camera then desolves to him chasing a chicken past the fence with surprising speed he manages to catch it before it gets into the pens. Before long the sun is at it's apex and Johnny sits in the old rocking chair wore out. General Lee sits at his feet. The once clean jeans are now filthy with dust, mud and who knows what else but still he smiles wiping his head with a bandana he kept in his pocket. bearing the confederate flag. A sigh escapes him of relief as he reaches over and cracks the cap off a bottle of cold Devil's Backbone Beer. He leans over petting the bloodhound who looks up at him with big beautiful eyes as ohnny just smiles turning from the dog to the camera.*

J.R.: Well, well, well, look at y'all. Comin' in old Rebel Ranch. Y'all kick yer feet up. Sit a spell. Y'all done caught ol' Johnny Reb doing his second favorite thing in the world. Drinkin' a nice cold beer on a hot day. Yep, been feelin' a might sore after last few weeks. Fer y'all that didn't catch it, Ol' Johnny Reb done tangled with the Bad Ass mother Fuckin' Champion! And while I didn't beat him. he didn't me either. I guess it goes to show ya just can't keep a good ol' boy down till you beat 'em half to death. That's right ol" Johnny Reb may not have won the title but he didn't rollover none either. And look...

*He points to his belt buckle proudly showing the BAMF on it as he smiles*

J.R.: Thanks to the Internet I might not have won the belt but I still got one. You can't put one over on ol' Johnny Reb. I stood there like a stonewall and showed what a southern boy is made of that being said I ain't got much to show fer it but my pride and good ol' General lee here.

*The dog yawns again dropping his head as Johnny stands up on his porch leaning on the rail and column of the old fashioned cabin like bungalow.*

J.R.: Now don;t get me wrong. I appreciate the support y'all been giving me. I guess this is just ol' Rocky numero uno where Rocky is still a bum but he's got street cred now. Y'all just let me know when I can start facin' the big ass Russian feller. That one was my favorite plus I get a Ro-butt got to love that right? But I digress. I climbed my way up and now I got the dogs already nippin at ol' Johnny Rebs heels. Case in point my oppoenent this week. Self proclaimed Prince of Punks, Eric Hernia or Heraldo or some stupid Mexican shit. Now I heard yer little speech on the ol' T.V. in there and I gotta say if you were tryin' to impress somebody, it was more like you were a drunk idiot pissin' into the wind of a florida hurricane. Bout as messy too cause y'all done stepped in it, son. You think I'm a steppin' stone? Some little brick y'all can use to pave yer way to somethin' better? I got news fer you buster, y'all better stop runnin' that mouth before it writes a check yer ass can't cash.

*he stops and pauses a moment thinking as he sips his beer before stepping down the steps and addressing the camera once more.*

J.R.: I always got confused by that sayin'. "Mouth writes a check yer ass can't cash" like what they have a joint account? Yer mouth is writing with it's teeth? that shit is weird. Anywho... where was I? Oh yeah, King of the Underclass. Is that what you think you are? King of the Underclass? Well I got news for you pal you ain't leadin' nothin' but Jack and Shit and Jack left town. King of the underclass? King of the underdeveloped more likely. You suppose to speak for the underclass. What do you know about underclass? You think cause you shop at Hot Topic and play a Ramones album it makes you impressive? You want to talk Punk and Underclass. Let's talk Underclass. See I come from the Underclass and the under privileged. I grew up in a trailer. Raised by a single mother. We didn't have a dime to our names and neither did our neighbors. I watched as hometowns around me died one by one. Factories closed. Good men and women jobless all to save those greedy bastards revenue. I know what it's like to be underclass. You know what I see when i look at you? I see a pawn. A joke. I see Che Guevara on a twenty dollar t-shirt. I see hot topic sellin' Invader Zim dolls. I see a sell out that doesn't know the meaning of Punk. Prince of Punk? You ain't even She-ra, princess of Power. And I ain't talkin' bout the good She-ra either. I'm talkin' bout that shitty She-ra reboot on Netflix made for the Lesbian twitter crowd! You're a 5 cent statement in a three piece suit. Yer mainstream and cheap. You represent the underclass like I represent new York Fuckin' City!

*He paces in the dirt for a spell letting his spurs spin in the dust of the ground before he looks into the camera taking off his Oakley's*

J.R.: You're an embarrassment. And the worst thing is yer not alone. The whole dang nation seems covered in people who don't know who they are. Who ain't happy with the simple things in life. you want to scream but ya ain't got nothin' to scream about do ya? You are Jack's disrespecting mouth. And yer gonna get slapped back to reality. See i don't know if you been payin' attention boy but these welts on my face? You see these?

*He points at the bruises and cuts on his face displaying them like red badges of courage and purple hearts.*

J.R.: They came from somebody who thought I was going to be a walk in the park. Thought he could walk all over me. be another steppin' stone. Well, I wasn't I was a stonewall and the only reason he's got that belt around his waist right now is that he headbutted this wall till he broke through it. And fer that alone he earned my respect but you, boy? you ain't earned my respect. You ain't steppin' on this ol' dogs tail.

*General Lee raises his head up as if alarmed only to have Johnny wave his hands re assuredly.*

J.R.: Sorry, sorry, General. Meant no disrespect.

*The dog lowers his head back as Johnny sighs relieved*

J.R.: No, you ain't steppin' on me, no sir. Cause I ain't a steppin' stone, boy. I'm a stone fuckin' wall and you gonna have to face me with everything you got. So break out the "good" King Herrod, Horatio, what is yer god danged name, boy? You know what... it doesn't mater cause ain't nobody gonna remember you anyway. Cause you can be Punk all you want. Cause I'm a little bit Country and a little bit Rock n Roll and that beats Sid Vicious' ass any day of the week. So get Sedated on Holiday or whatever! Cause you ain't got a prayer against the Southern Controversy.

*He just stops looking up placing his Oakley's slowly on his face as he stands distinguished looking away to the heavens. he stands there for a few moments before dropping his head and lowering his shades and looking behind the camera as it laxes.*

J.R.: Alright. We good? Good . hey, after I feed the horses let's go play Nerf football with the Goat! Sound good? Alright! I call the General!

*The camera cuts out then as the scene fades to black.*