PROMO: Greetings from Asbury.. er.. Fairmount Park

[Guest Drew_K]

Looking around, CIA is wary, but it seems no more fans have spotted him. It’s no doubt he’ll be seen soon, just leaving his promotional stop at the Philedelphia zoo, still bedecked in his mask and his trademark leather jacket. The Canadian ducks off into the shadows, reaching up to open the zippers keeping the flags dangling from the undersides of his arms. Carefully folding the rectangular patches of fabric, CIA unslings a duffle bag from his shoulder, shoving the folded flags inside. Closing the bag again, and returning it to his shoulder, CIA zips up his jacket to cover the front of his black ‘Canadian Dream’ sweatshirt, finally throwing the hood over his head, mostly obscuring his mask. Looking down to the jeans he is wearing, the secret agent man deems them acceptable, and turns around, stepping out of the shadows. Walking along, the Canadian heads for the exit to the zoo, noone picking him out of the crowd.

 

“It’s a mistake. You’re giving him the advantage, doing this.”

 

Not needing to turn his head, CIA addresses the General in a low voice, glad no-one overheard, and wondered at the odd conversation. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going. And I know he’s gonna be there.”

 

The voice sighs, as CIA pushes through the turnstile to exit the zoo, continuing his walk. “I’m telling you, it’s a mistake. I trust your judgement, but I think you really ought to lisen to me. You’ve never even really beat him. You KNOW that, and I’m just protecting you. Now I’m asking you one more time, JUST GO HOME!”

 

Spinning around, CIA is about to yell out his reply, but there is noone in sight, and the Canadian shakes his head. Spinning right around again, he draws a few odd looks, but luckily, noone recognizes him as he walks off, swiftly headed for somewhere else.

 

A few minutes later, he sees the man he’s after. Glancing about Fairmount park, CIA sighs, and begins his slow approach, carefully controlling his breathing. Closer….. closer…. Only a few feet away now, the Canadian is not quite shocked as his target turns around on the bench, eyes meeting his own. “Afternoon. Come to flaunt your good luck some more?”

 

“No, Mak. I wanted to talk. Do you see any cameras? Any crowds? Do you see a belt around my waist? This is about the two of us, like I said. Like you said, too, whenever you could get your mind off the title. So we’re gonna have a little chat, just you and I. Do you mind if I sit down?”

 

Not awaiting the answer, CIA sits on the bench, next to Mak, and waits a few seconds, in silence, both men just staring out over the park. Finally, CIA unzips his jacket, reaching inside to pull out a crumpled cigarette pack, placing the carcinogen loaded stick in his mouth, and returning the pack, instead coming out with a lighter, flipping the top open, and just about to light the cigarette with a slow puff.

 

“Nervous, I see. Your usual annoying accent is gone, too. And you should be nervous. You can’t beat me. You never really have, and you never will. That title should still be MINE.”

 

Sighing, CIA lights his cigarette, slipping the lighter back into his pocket. Turning towards ‘the Franchise’, CIA takes a long drag of his cigarette, and locks eyes with the angry sWo leader. “You know, Mak, you had it, for a second there. Titles. Feh. There’s bigger things for both of us than this title. Is it important, oh sure. But if you can honestly say either of us isn’t good enough to hold that belt, you go ahead and say so, right now.”

 

Francis opens his mouth, but after a moment of thought, closes it again, smugly crossing his arms and looking away.

 

“I thought so. But like I said, you were on the right track, and I wasn’t kidding. Have I ever pinned you? Hell no. How about a tap out? Noone’s done that. You took the pain till you were unconscious when you were fighting Fugue. Meanwhile, you’ve made me tap out. You’ve pinned me. THAT’S what this is about. I want my match, Mak, and I want to prove that I can do just what you say I can’t. Beat you, fair and square, one on one.”

 

“So you’re here to give me my title shot, then?”

 

CIA sighs, and takes a long drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “No, Mak. We’re gonna fight. And it won’t be too much longer before it happens. I just have one thing for you to do first. You figure out what this is really all about, and you can have the match. My way, like I said. Call me scared if you want, call me a coward. But you won’t get a shot at this belt. And whenever I can avoid you, you won’t get to fight me, either. We’re gonna do this the only way it can be done. We’re gonna do it right.”

 

Francis smiles, and nods his head, getting an idea. “So why wait, then? Who needs the ring? We could fight right here, right now. We don’t need the fans. We don’t need the spotlight. We could settle this in the next five minutes. That is, if you’re not afraid of a real fight, without your worthless fans to back you up, to cheer for you like you just got them out of their fucking taxes.”

 

“No, Mak. I need the fans to see it. I don’t need them to cheer, I don’t need them to love me. I just need to prove I can beat you, Mak, fair and even. And you want to show the whole world you’re better than me, and every time I won, it was a fluke.”

 

Sighing, Francis nods, and turns towards CIA. “Fine, you’re right. But here’s the deal, CHAMP.” Mak says these words with a derisive tone, obviously not respecting CIA’s claim to the belt. “You CAN’T dodge me forever. It’s gonna go down. And, to paraphrase a song I rather enjoy, ‘Are you ready? Cause the Franchise is.’ I hope you get that message.”

 

Nodding his head, CIA smirks, just a bit, taking a final drag on his cigarette, and tossing it away. “I got it, CHAMP.” CIA mocks Francis’ tones as he rises from the bench. “And I hope you get this message. I WILL beat you. And you can’t dodge THAT forever.”

 

Turning his back on Francis rather deliberately, CIA walks away, soon disappearing from Francis’ sight, and the Franchise is left, seated in the park, only at the last moment realizing that CIA left something sitting on the bench when he left. A child’s replica championship belt, with a note attached to the plastic strap. ‘Titles cost a few bucks. Pride can’t be bought. See you soon, Mak.’

[Guest TheBostonStrangler]

Nice one, Drew. I always like it when feuds can become about something more than a title belt, and that's what the Mak/CIA feud is doing right about now. This feud is all about pride....vaguely reminds me of my feud with Taylor. Overall, I love the direction that the promo is giving...although CIA not putting up the title seemed a little odd. Other than that, I thought the promo flowed well, and it's nice to see two enemies NOT beating the shit out of each other all the time. Good work, Drewski.

[Guest WrestlingDeacon]

I make my once a month trip to the SJL to pat the Canadian Dream on the back. I agree with TBS. It might not have been a "wrestling promo" but it was a part of a short story that defined character and plot and that is more important than anything.

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

That's some WF quality promoing right there. This feud is probably the best JL program since Erek/Stryke or the TNT/Danny/Tod saga. Bravo to all involved parties.

[Guest Ace309]

Definitely one of the most intriguing storylines I've had occasion to read, kept going by another well-written promo (as always). Great job.

[Guest Tyler McClelland]

Very well written, I like it. Probably would like it more if I followed your story more, but...

 

Yeah, it was well written.