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Thread: Phoenix Cup Round 1 - Millertime Rebel vs. Tyson Bell

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    .BOX.OF.BONES. mth's Avatar
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    Phoenix Cup Round 1 - Millertime Rebel vs. Tyson Bell

    ou[R] Fed presents...

    **The Phoenix Cup Tournament**

    FIRST ROUND

    MILLERTIME REBEL versus TYSON BELL


    aka @MTR vs. @Tyson

    3 alternating promos from each competitor. Remember the criteria you will be judged on:
    -Selling characters/story
    -Selling the match
    -Entertainment Value
    -Grammar/Cohesion

    Coin flip reveals Millertime Rebel goes first.

  2. #2
    Just one ‘ship, ferda... Tyson's Avatar
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    It’s 1130PM on a Wednesday as Jerry Shore walks across the gymnasium floor towards a set of double doors, the limp in the fifty-something year old man's left knee pronounced towards the end of his day; the Athletic Director and Varsity Football Coach at St. Rajah High School flips a set of switches, the interior lights very slowly come to life to reveal a wrestling ring in the middle of the basketball court. One of the doors swings outward, a large man enters and takes in the environment before stepping aside to allow an even larger man to follow behind him. The second man through is Tyson Bell, the R-Fed veteran, who obviously looks a little older but other than that is very much the same person we were accustomed to many years ago. Dressed in business casual attire with his usual buzzcut, facial hair shaved clean; he looks good physically, has maintained the same fit wrestling physique. It is obvious that retirement suits him, he has a relaxed and cordial look on his face as the three shake hands; Tyson smoothly pulls a couple bills from his pocket and gives them to Jerry, who exchanges a key for the money.

    Jerry: “Mr. Bell, it’s an honor to meet you.”
    Tyson: “Call me Tyson. Thank-you for meeting us so late.”
    J: “Not a problem, I was here watching game film in preparation for our playoff game this Friday night. This is a huge win for the area, people are going to come from all over the state to watch this wrestling event; the proceeds will pay huge dividends for the school’s athletic department. My son and I were huge fans of yours in RPW, it’s a damn shame that company shut down so quickly.”
    T: “It was fun, but way too short. There’s no alarm in the building, we just shut off the lights and lock the door?”
    J: “Yes sir. This small town is very laidback, the crime rate is non-existent. Will you be here every evening around this time?”
    T: “Yeah. I needed to find a quiet place for some final preparation, thought I’d get into town a couple weeks early. Bring your son by after the event, I’ll have some signed merchandise for you.”
    J: “That would be amazing, thank-you! The school is yours, the football coaches are usually the last to leave around 8PM. I’m sure you can find the weight room and locker room.”

    Jerry heads through the gym towards the PE offices, finally on his way home after a very long day of teaching/coaching/preparation. En route to the ring, Tyson turns to Kris, his long-time business manager and childhood friend.

    T: “Just a quick promo, then back to the motel; we’ll work out tomorrow night.”
    Kris: “How you want to do this?”
    T: “Leaning on the ropes, you film it from the floor outside the ring.”

    Kris pulls his iPhone 11 out of his pocket, logs in and sets up the camera app as Tyson climbs onto the apron and steps over the top rope. He looks around to take in the environment, a small smirk emerges.

    T: “Who would have thought, man…”
    K: “Ready when you are.”

    Tyson composes himself, then leans on the top rope as he stares into the camera portion of the iPhone.

    T: “Millertime Rebel. Tyson Bell. The Phoenix Cup.

    I saw the promos from the others while on the Dynasty private jet, lots of animosity and anger; some serious bad blood has once again resumed flowing after being settled for so long. You and me though, there is none of that; we do not have a deep hatred for one another, there is no intense rivalry between us. That said, when I’m in the locker room on the night of the event, getting my wrists taped as I’m waiting for my theme music to play, I have no doubt that I’ll be capable of turning the intensity up to 100 and putting my fist through your face. I am of the belief that you’ll have no problem doing the same damn thing. I’ve done my research; I know that you will bring your “A” game come the Phoenix Cup and we’ll steal the damn show.

    Now why would competitors like us, the two biggest names on the card, sign up for a one-off event in a small one-stoplight town like this? Mr. H has the most gold on his resume but it’s my name and picture front and center on the promotional material, followed by yours in the #2 spot. It’s our match that will go on last, it’s our names that ultimately draw in these paying customers; a damn shame that one of us must lose, that both of us can’t make it to the finals. I signed up for the Phoenix Cup because I love the rush of adrenaline that courses through my body when my theme music starts, when the reaction of the live crowd hits me. I love stepping onto the stage, the walk down the ramp, hearing either the cheers or jeers of the paying customers. I love stepping through those ropes and looking across the ring; knowing that for the next 20 plus minutes it boils down to a couple of guys going back and forth, testing each other’s mental and physical resolve. This is to me, what the quarter mile was to Dom Toretto.

    I’ve been chasing that high ever since RPW prematurely shut its doors, from failed fed to failed fed; we’d get a couple shows in, then the ownership group would fuck off with some half-assed excuse. Fortunately, I haven’t depended financially on the wrestling industry, I have a portfolio full of highly profitable business ventures which allow me to sit back and watch my money make money. When I heard about this Phoenix Cup, I jumped at it; I didn’t even ask for the details, I just threw my name in. We all, the six of us, love to compete; this is the first opportunity in ages for us to once again wrestle in front of a crowd. I came here because I’m a competitor and an entertainer, for one night we can give these couple hundred wrestling fans a little bit of an escape from their shitty jobs, their ungrateful kids, their ongoing and never-ending list of chores that need to be done around the house.

    Miller, you and I are going to step in this ring at the Phoenix Cup and tear the fucking house down; not because we hate each other, but for one night we got to do something that has eluded us both for way too long. After the match, after one of us has had our hand raised in victory, we’ll go back to the locker room and crack a couple beers. Maybe if you’re interested, we’ll even talk business; I have some preliminary plans in place to give this wrestling industry a kick in the ass, perhaps this Phoenix Cup was the shot of adrenaline this business needed.”

  3. #3
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    Millertime Rebel is sitting at his fancy wood desk in his office looking at various things on the three computer screens. A cold beer sitting on the corner of the desk. One of his assistants walks in.

    "Sorry to interrupt you sir"

    "Yet here you are"

    "Yes the runners of the Phoenix Cup has reached out to remind you that they need some to send in some promo work to help promote and set up your first round match that is coming up."

    "Oh yeah. I had almost forgotten that I had agreed to that tournament. I believe that the first round is being held at high school. Is that correct?"

    "Yes sir. It is."

    "It has been so long since I have wrestled in such a small venue. I am actually looking forward to that. Do we have any information on my first around opponent?"

    "Yes there is a file folder there in your tray"

    Rebel reaches over and grabs a folder out a tray on his desk. Flips through the pages that are there.

    "There is also a tape of his first promo that is in your email."

    Rebel pulls up the promo in his email and watches it with a bit of a smirk.

    "Thank you. I will have something for you shortly. You may leave and I will let you know. Plus if it is not already done go ahead and make the arrangements to head to the town the first round is taking place in. I want to get the lay of the land before hand."

    "As you wish, sir."

    Millertime Rebel turns back to the his screens and turns on his camera and hits record.

    "Tyson, I must say you are an interesting and intriguing opponent for the first round of this Phoenix Cup. I am looking forward to getting in the ring with you. Like you said we have no history so there is no hatred here to fuel this match. We just want to go out there and do what we do best and that is win and entertain the fans in the process.

    I have wrestled in small venues like this and I have wrestled in huge stadiums. I have done it all and it has been a while since I have done it. I turned back to my work and my businesses and strayed away from this after various companies shut down. Who know something may come out of this tournament and I get back in the game again. I do miss the sounds of the crowd no matter how big or small they are and I miss competition.

    This tournament is bringing in some nice talent. Many of who I have never crossed paths with which I admit I am eager to get in the ring with. It is a shame that one of us has to lose. But I am not going down without a fight. Then again I don't plan on going down. I want this win. In in a way I need this win. I need to make sure I am still the wrestler I was when I stepped away. I am not coming back to just tarnish my name and reputation.

    When it is all said and done yeah we can crack some beers together and maybe even talk business. I am always open to listening to what other people have in mind and seeing what we can do to make as much money for each other as possible. Maybe after this we can even team up at some point. I always love finding good tag partners and kicking some ass in tag matches. But first things first. We take care of business in the ring against each other."


    Millertime Rebel shuts off the recording and camera and once again looks at the information he has on Tyson with a smile on his face.

  4. #4
    Just one ‘ship, ferda... Tyson's Avatar
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    The setting is the interior of a motel room, considered upper class in this small town but modest by any other standard: a queen-sized bed, small couch and non-descript TV. It’s not remotely up to the level of comfort that one would expect Tyson Bell, pro wrestler/entertainer/businessman, to typically frequent. The TV is muted and tuned to ABC, the PAC-12 title game is in progress; Oregon is getting smashed during yet another wholly underwhelming Ducks football season. Tyson Bell emerges from the bathroom barefoot, clad in basketball shorts and cutoff t-shirt, a towel draped around his massive shoulders. He appears to be in amazing shape, something that wasn’t overly noticeable when he was rocking the business casual attire at St. Rajah’s some ten days ago; he is the exact same shredded monster that he was during his R-Fed prime, now over a decade ago. Tyson glances at the TV and grimaces, rubs his stubble-covered chin before throwing the towel onto the bed. He collapses his seven-foot frame onto the couch which is two sizes too small.

    Tyson: “These Ducks are fucking useless; they get the pre-season hype, start well then trip all over themselves during conference play. Every single year.

    You know my story, born and raised in Southern California, the old PAC-10 had my heart growing up; the USC Trojans for football and the LA Lakers for basketball, we were in the epicenter of those areas and those were our teams. Watching this new PAC-12 routinely punch itself in the face during the football season has become quite the annoyance for me; I know you’re not here for my PAC-12 or Lincoln Riley-to-USC analysis, so I digress.

    Millertime Rebel. You’re probably wondering why I’m here in this motel room, in this small blue-collar town; these are not my usual digs, but these extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. Seeing as this is my first wrestling event in over a decade, I decided to go full training camp mode: I rented half a dozen motel rooms for a month, have former and current pro wrestlers coming in and out of town to get me back into game shape. Guys that I used to work with and compete against, legitimate dudes still working the independent circuit, have been extremely generous with their time in helping me knock off the ring rust. For the past week and a half, four guys and myself head to a local dairy farm for shift one in the morning; Dynasty money has provided us with a barn rental, along with discrete setup of a wrestling ring and rudimentary weight room. Shift two comes in the evening at St. Rajah’s, where we have been using their weight room plus a second shipped-in wrestling ring. Group one was here for a week, group two just started their stay, group one will return shortly, rinse and repeat until the Phoenix Cup. Long story short, I’ll be ready; I’ve even got the R-Fed stubble going for you, a staple of my active wrestling days. I go cleanshaven in the business world but rock the five o’clock shadow in this boardroom.


    I’m really enjoying this; over the past week and a half I realized how much I missed throwing bodies, it’s probably something I took for granted back in the day. In that little folder of yours, does it contain testimonials about the physicality that a Tyson Bell match entails? Does it describe how when the blood starts pouring into that ring, the smile on my face gets bigger? Does it adequately paint the picture of one’s thought process when staring across the ring at a monster like me? You’ve never faced me; you can bring to camp all the seven footers you want, but me and my skillset will never be replicated. It behooves you to pick up the phone and place a call to Mr. H; we came up in RVW at the same time, our paths have crossed repeatedly.

    I can already picture your smartass response: “If you’re the machine that you claim to be, where’s the gold on your resume? Why weren’t you able to keep any of the half dozen companies afloat?” To the first point, that’s why RPW shutting down hurt the most; my chance to run with the Global title was imminent. The fact of the matter is, the booking staffs in the multitude of companies never quite knew what to do with me; if they gave me a legitimate shot with the top title in the company, I’d keep it and mow through their roster in a yearlong run. Despite the belief of the masses, that is terrible for business; one guy at the top who makes everyone else look pedestrian, with very few credible stars being left in their wake. So, they would put me in spots where I still could do my thing while drawing eyeballs from viewers and potential advertisers, but ultimately not in a position to do any permanent damage to the brand. A tease of what might and could happen, if/when they decided to pull the trigger.

    As to the latter question, you’d have to ask the suits themselves, if you can find them; those corporate slimeballs from the companies post-RPW are probably on a beach somewhere warm, sipping something cold and colorful. They did the preliminary legwork, put on a couple entertaining shows then bounced with the money. Pick any one of the alphabet companies that I signed up for, they all owe me and have lawsuits pending against their principals. Why I, for a while now, have seriously entertained the possibility of starting up my own federation: I have the money and the business connections, I’m not disappearing anytime soon. But that’s for a later discussion.

    Which brings me here: to this non-descript motel room, in this quiet little blue collar town, where I will spend the next month or so preparing for a singles match with you. Tyson Bell versus Millertime Rebel, two R-Fed veterans who surprisingly have never matched up against one another, in the preliminary round of the first ever Phoenix Cup. I signed up because the desire to compete still flows in me; the addiction of performing in front of a live crowd still itches at me and the opportunity to be a champion has eluded me. If anybody is going to become the first ever Phoenix Cup champion, it will be me; I’m here putting in the time, the next step is facing and defeating you. Millertime Rebel, you need to bow down before you get smacked down.”
    Last edited by Tyson; December 4th, 2021 at 2:21 AM.

  5. #5
    .BOX.OF.BONES. mth's Avatar
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    PROMOS FOR THIS MATCH ARE ARE NOW CLOSED.

    Judges/Bookers @Mazer @TimeSplitter @Psycho666Soldier

    Please read through the promos, judge them based on the established criteria, and determine who you think should win the match. PM @Caito with your judgement/winner and any ideas you have for how the match should play out based on the promos and story being presented. Caito, whenever you've got everything you need, you can post the match itself and the judges remarks.

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