Promo: In the Shadows of Joe Louis

[Guest WrestlingDeacon]

A camera pans down an empty hallway; white concrete brick on either side and no more. A voice, a ‘superior’ voice, is heard echoing through cavernous underbelly of Detroit’s Joe Louis Arena.

 

“I had it all laid out for you to win that match. I had the ICTV title served up to you on a silver platter and you couldn’t even lick the crumbs off of it.” The voice is calm and controlled, but there is a tense stress at the edges of the words that denote boiling rage being desperately kept at a low simmer.

 

“I told you to injure Frost and you get injured yourself. I told you to win and Frost wins. You did everything BACKWARDS! I might as well trade you in for Ash Ketchum!” The moving shot arrives at an open doorway and swings around to peer inside, just in time to see Danny Williams shoot Magnificent 7 leader Tom Flesher the dirtiest of looks.

 

Williams sits on an old wooden bench, still in his wrestling clothes but with his boots off. His notoriously bad ankle is heavily taped and Danny holds a roll of white athletic tape in his gruff mitts. Flesher stands over him with his hands on his hips and his elbows out at a jaunty angle. He wears a simple black polo shirt and jeans, yet there is an immaculate sharpness to his attire and form.

 

“You better pray that that ankle is better by Thursday, because we have a six man tag with the Carnies I don’t feel like losing.” Flesher continues on. He taps the bottom of Williams’ bad foot for good measure.

 

Danny doesn’t even flinch, just simply turns his eyes up from his wrapping to gaze at Tom. “Frost took advantage of the situation and beat me. I will never make excuses for that. He might have pinned Orochi, but he beat me. As for Thursday, don’t worry.”

 

“I better not have to. If I have to replace you with Frost, who I know will hog the glory, I will not be happy.”

 

“Not happy about what?” A gruff voice made almost musical by the slight touch of an accent slashes in. Flesher and Williams both look toward the doorway and the shot cuts to reveal Frost filling the frame. He is dressed in khaki slacks with a white dress shirt opened at the throat. His skin still wet from the shower, he holds a travel bag in his left hand and has the ICTV belt strapped around his broad waist.

 

“If you’re on your way to the airport, you might want to take the title off. It will probably set off the metal detectors.” Flesher jokes with a grin, trying to divert the Iceman’s stare.

 

“Not happy about what?” he repeats.

 

“I imagine that Danny here won’t be happy if he has to miss the six man tag this Thursday if his ankle isn’t healed. Although you know I would be thrilled to tag with my championship partner again.” Flesher covers with the slick delivery of an artic refrigerator salesman.

 

“I’ll be busy.” Frost says without a hint of emotion.

 

Flesher’s eyebrows rise quizzically, but he recovers his blank demeanor. He hates not knowing what’s going on, but doesn’t want you to know it. “Oh…with what?”

 

“King asked me to do guest commentary during the match. Says nobody knows everyone involved more than I do, especially you.” Frost punches the end of that statement.

 

“I’m sure you won’t be Dennis Miller on color, but good luck with that.” Tom means it as a joke, but his deadpan delivery shows that his mind is racing to figure out what King’s game is to have Frost at ringside.

 

“How’s the ankle?” Frost says as he turns his attention to Williams.

 

Danny looks up with a grimace. “Why do you care? You’re the one who re-injured it.”

 

“You would have done the same in the context of a match, especially a title match. Don’t think I couldn’t have broken it if I wanted to.”

 

“Yeah…why don’t I give you another shot at it?” Williams starts to stand, but Flesher puts a hand on his shoulder and eases him back down.

 

“My, my Mr. Frost, worried about Danny and pitching for TNT to rejoin the Mag 7, one might get the wrong idea and think you have a warm heart under that icy exterior.” Tom narrows his eyes and smirks like the Cheshire cat.

 

“Maybe that says I’m a little more suited to a leadership rule than you.” The light goes out of Flesher’s face and he frowns at that comment. “I’ll see you Thursday,” and with that Frost is gone as quickly as he arrived.

 

“You let me have another crack at him. I’ll take that title belt off of him.” Williams pleads with Flesher.

 

“I’m sure I can arrange something. Although you personally pitching him in the Clusterfuck I’m sure would help your cause.” Tom says with thinly veiled implications.

 

“Don’t you think Frost will start figuring out that you don’t want him around anymore?” Danny asks.

 

“It’s not that. He has his uses, but he’s not too keen on being used anymore. If he learns his place, I’ll take him back with open arms. If not…” Flesher and Williams exchange a knowing stare “I’m glad I took out that injury insure policy on him. Double if it’s career ending.” He holds a finger up to Williams for emphasis and chuckles for the pleasure of hearing his own sweet laugh.

[Guest Ace309]

w00t~!

 

Frost, why do you write Tom so damn well?

[Guest TheBostonStrangler]

Very nice work, Senor Frost. Good work on the characters, adding King into the equation adds some intrigue, and the fact that the M7 is seriously divided seems to be more and more apparent after every promo. Excellent.

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

Who's this Frost guy?

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

...Because he's not too bad, for a n00b.

[Guest kelloggs]

I completely forgot to comment on this with studying and the like but excellent grasp of the characters and this was pretty much the template for my promo. I always enjoy Frost promo because he always strings, whats the word... oh well I'll just say multiple storylines together, along with his main theme and always does it very well

[Guest HVilleThugg]

Frost is gay.

 

Da "that is all" H