[Chamelion]

PWA IC Contendership Match
Mark Zout vs Cody Bogard

[Mark Zout]

Mark’s Feelin’ Good Vibrations

The scene opens on Mark wearing a pair of silver shorts and his white DC Courts, and nothing else. He is drenched in sweat as he vigorously drops to the padded floor of his and Ryan‘s gym, then pushes himself up past his feet, ending in a back bump. From here he kips up, rotating past his feet and landing in a face bump. There are ten of these before he kips up to his feet and stays on them with slight difficulty. Greedily, Mark drops to his knees near their custom sixteen-by-sixteen ring and untwists the cap to his nearby gallon jug of water and hoists it to his mouth, chugging quickly. When he has had his fill, he caps the water again and drops the jug carelessly on the ground. Mark then leans against the side of the ring, looking into the lens of the camera.

Mark: “What? You didn’t think I work for this body and this talent?”

He scoffs, shaking his head. Instinctively, Mark moves his left hand to stroke his hair out of his eyes, only to remember he no longer has any to worry about. Instead he wipes the sweat from his brow.

Mark: “I may always shoot my promos while smoking a cigarette, or playing Xbox, among other activities that serve no purpose toward my craft, and I get a lot of crap for that. But let’s be honest, alright? A professional wrestler - and I mean someone who gets paid to do this - works hard at it. Every hour I’m not in the gym, I’m either sleeping or promoting. And why’s that? Because I want to be the best. I am driven to push myself to my limits, and then pass them. Not everyone can be as talented as I am, because not everyone works as hard as I do. So on the rare occasion that I do get to kick back with a bit of Xbox Live time, I’m cutting a promo at the same time.

Mark bends down, grabbing a small white towel and droops it over his head. He also picks his jug of water back up and sets it on the ring apron beside him. After a sigh, gaining full control over his breath again, Mark continues.

Mark: “I know, I know. If I work ‘so hard‘ then why do I lose so often, right? Well… (he shrugs) I don‘t know. I am one of the best pure wrestlers in this business, but this business is about more than pure wrestling. This business is about speed - which I have, technical ability - which I have, resilience - which I have, and charisma - which I have. However, this business is also about strength - which I lack, brawling ability - which I lack, hardcore stunts when they‘re required - which I hate, and knowing the right people to pull the right political strings - which I don‘t.”

“See, I can be faster, more squirrelly, and more popular among the fans than - we‘ll take the Pastor‘s son, Ronald Gay, for instance. However, as soon as Mr. Gay gets those big fingers wrapped around my neck, there won‘t be much more squirreling to be done. Coming up on this Who‘s The Man?!, however, it won‘t be Ronald Gay I‘m facing. It‘s going to be Cody Bogart - a man I haven‘t been in the ring with since our days on the island. See, to my understanding, Cody hasn’t been extremely successful since arriving in the PWA. He’s been about as successful as I have been in my singles career. That isn’t an insult, Cody, so don’t worry.“

Mark uncaps his jug of water and takes a swig, setting it back on the ring’s apron beside him when he’s finished. He rubs the sweat off his head with the towel that droops over his skull, and then slips it down so that it hangs across his shoulders. He reaches up with both arms, grabbing the second rope above his head, and pulls himself straight up until he is seated on the apron of the ring. He then folds his hands in his lap.

Mark: “What the PWA fans have to look forward to during Cody Bogard versus Mark Zout One at Who’s The Man?! is two men - only one inch and five pounds apart - about as close as the tape will tell. They’re going to see Japanese influenced stiff-style wrestling face off against Mexican influenced loose-style. The best fans in the world - the fans of PWA are going to witness more than a match. They will see a war! A war fought with skin and bone and tooth and nail, ranging from the challenger’s corner to the defender’s corner, and every square inch between them! There will be blood. There will be sweat. And like any bout worth watching, there will be only a single winner.”

“Cody, you’re a solid competitor. You’re fast. You’re swift. You’re agile. When you hit, it stings. You are a master of your craft. There isn’t a suplex you don’t know, you there isn’t a suplex you use that anyone else can do better - myself included. Once you get an opponent into the corner, they are little more prey for your heat-seeking, blood-drawing chops. And once you whittle an opponent into a submission, there is no escape for them - only submission. Even when your back is against the ropes, you always pose a threat with one of your devastating lariats. You, Cody Bogard, are quite the force to be reckoned with, and it‘s about damn time everyone else in the locker room sees so.”

Mark reaches upward and grabs hold of the top rope. He then straightens out his legs, and as he pulls upward he crunches his stomach, flipping backward over the top rope and landing squarely on his feet. In the process of doing so, the small white towel that was draped over his shoulders falls to the padded floor on the outside. Mark crosses his arms as he hunches forward to lean against the top rope.

Mark: “Cody, you are amongst the most determined, hardest working superstars in this company, and you are a championship caliber athlete. In fact, Cody, I believe you are going to make a great Intercontinental Champion. Better than that - I KNOW you will make a great Intercontinental Beer Champion. But Cody, you won’t be getting your chance to prove it so soon. See, Cody, at Who‘s The Man?! you won‘t be facing the likes of Dos Cara. You will be facing myself. And Cody, unlike our old friends on the island, I won‘t lose my cool after you‘ve trapped me in the corner and your knife-edged chops are shredding my chest into pieces. I won‘t tap out, because I don‘t know what submission is - no matter what shape you pretzel me into. And Cody, I won‘t let you keep the shine long after you catch me off-guard with one of those vicious lariats.”

Mark smirks as he stands up straight and begins walking backward, slowly. His eyes almost seem to twinkle as he thinks forward to the challenge his opponent will pose in their up-coming match.

Mark: “Don‘t get me wrong, Cody. I am not claiming I‘m going to squash you - not even close. I know it‘s going to be a hard fought battle. I know I‘m going to bleed, and I know I‘m going to be screaming in my mind ‘Tap out, you idiot!!!’ But Cody, I don‘t listen to that giant voice screaming in my head to quit. I don‘t have the smarts to stay down when I know I should. I don‘t have the ability to allow my opponent psychological control in a match.”

Mark, having reached the other side of the ring, spreads his arms out, sprawling back against the top rope. He supports himself with his back and his elbows, using his hands to accentuate his speech.

Mark: “What I do have, Cody, is a hell of a lot of heart - just like you, a fire in my soul - just like you, and a hunger in my gut that can be satisfied only by the pure spirit of competition - just like you. Cody, you‘ve got to understand that I don‘t want the Intercontinental Beer Title nearly as much as I want the number one contendership for the title. See Cody, what I know about you is that you don‘t have an ounce of quit in you, and what I know about myself is the same thing.”

“Cody, your in-ring style is precise, it‘s technical, and it‘s attack-oriented. My style, however, is just the opposite. I operate off evasions, counters, and reversals. We are like fire and ice, my friend. Fire and ice. When whichever one of us CAN stand after our match, after all is said and done, and after we have shown the world what we are made of - after we steal the show at Who‘s The Man?! - I know he‘s gonna help the other guy up, I know we‘re gonna shake hands, and I know there will be a Cody Bogard versus Mark Zout Two. But just so you know, Buddy, I don‘t plan on needing any help standing after our match.”

“Do me a favor, Cody. Don‘t disappoint me. When you come at me, come at me hard. Don‘t bring any less than your best - because any less than your best won‘t be good enough. And because if you give me any less than your best… Victory won‘t taste as sweet after I beat you. Bring your guns, Cody… Bring your guns.”

Mark bounds off the ropes in an explosive burst of energy, slamming into the ropes on the opposite side of the ring with the speed of a bullet. As he bounds off the opposite ropes he enters a lucha-style roll, repeating in succession. The scene fades…

To White.

[Edit: I had accidentally written Grizzly Beer every time you see Intercontinental. I had to change it.]
[Second Edit: Changed Signature at head of promo to new picbase.]

[Bahamutknightzero]

Scene opens with a scene inside a dark temple, only illuminated with candlelight. Cody Bogard is seen sitting in front of a statue while dressed in a black and white Aikido outfit, meditating. Slowly opening his eyes, Cody takes note of the camera focusing on him.

"I've got to say this Mark, I'm rather impressed with every single thing you said there. So impressed that I almost forgot that you were originally talking about the Grizzly Beer title and not the Intercontinental title. I mean its understandable, a chance to fight for a championship can make any of us excited deep down and cause us to mix small things up. I do agree that a pro wrestler does work hard at everything that he does, but at the same time the pro wrestler also knows that he isn't perfect. Those that struggle with promos make up for it with their ringwork and vice versa, that there is where both of us lie. We're on two opposite sides of the spectrum in that while your promo work is probably light years ahead of mine, it pales in comparison to what I bring to the table per se in terms of putting on a great match for the fans."

Cody slams his hands across his legs, using his hands to help push himself up. Bogard begins to swing his right arm in a circle.

"And yet, it doesn't quite translate to wins and losses. In fact, why should we be held down by wins and losses? Its a sad state when people seem to care more about who has more victories and fewer losses than caring about being entertained with the match they just watched and experienced. They seem to care more about promos that seem more like a blog entry or mass essay than letting one's actions speaking for them in the ring. I do appreciate that you present yourself as a pure wrestler, but it only bogs you down with the label of a dying breed."

Cody pauses to go through slow and fluid movements, shifting from martial art pose to martial art pose, nearly to a point of shadow fighting.

"You shouldn't be worried with the label though, since apparently I'm a part of the so called dying breed too. A breed that busted their asses back in their independent roots, a breed that made sacrifices to please the bloodthirsty fans, a breed that was appreciated for their unique and different styles. Even though we both come from two different styles of wrestling, with your lucha based ring skills and my puroresu backed technical strong style, we both represent a single style that will go all out with that signature "never say quit, never say die", "fighting spirit" to drive us to going beyond the limit to go for not only victory, but also for the pure satisfaction that deep down we both did our job and made the fans remember what they just witnessed."

Thrusting a fast palm strike, holding the pose as the camera slowly pans from the palm over to Cody's head.

"All I can say is don't quit, that is all I ask of you. When you are being beaten down within an inch of your life with all those strikes, take it like a man and don't quit. When you are locked up in whatever brutal submission that I bring with me, don't you dare tap or pass out from the pain. Even when you seem dead and buried after taking any of those ever deadly trademark and finishing moves, dig deep down within yourself to get that last burst of adrenaline to kick out. If you are able to do any of those thing come Sunday, then the fans and I will know that we're witnessing something special not just from Cody Bogard, but from Mark Zout as well. We're both going into this match just a pair of crazy fools fighting over the chance to fight for a title, but once the smoke clears from the brutal battle between these two warriors, we will go down in history as not only stealing the show but stealing the minds and hearts of all those fans with our actions."

After going through a few more motions, Bogard throws his arms down and in front of himself, letting out a deep breath, raising his head and gazing up at the ceiling

"Live and die in the name of the samurai...... live and die in the age of warriors..... live and die....."

Cody lowering his head slowly, his expression changing to a slightly sinister smirk, the scene fading out to black

[Mark Zout]

JKL Featuring Mark Zout

The scene opens on the set of an evening talk show. Jimmy Kimmel is seated speaking with Mark Zout, whom is wearing a black three piece with a red tie. His platinum blonde stubble atop his head looks like tiny cheetah spots. Jimmy begins speaking with an applauding audience.

Kimmel: “Welcome back to Jimmy Kimmel Live where I’ve got Mark Zout of the PWA who’s fighting Cody Bogard at Who’s The Man?! Now Mark, you’ve already told us so much about yourself and the various merchandise you have available. The people know they can hit you up anytime at Twitter slash Mark out - one word. And the fans here love you--“

Jimmy Kimmel is cut off by the impromptu roar of his audience, cheering in unison for the young athlete. Kimmel shakes his head, looking to the floor as he wait for the riot to calm. Mark smiles, waving to the fans and lipping ‘Thank-yous.‘ When they do quiet, Kimmel continues.

Kimmel: “But what about your opponent? You got anything macho to say to him?”

Zout nods, scrunches his brow, and then shoots on his opponent. Without remorse. The fans love it.

Zout: “Cody Bogard I think you’re delusional. I’m not trying to insult you… You’re doing a fine enough job of that on your own - through your ‘actions,’ which you apparently like to be judged on. See, Cody, you’re a walking contradiction, and quite frankly that worries me a bit.”

Kimmel: “Oh wow. You’re like really serious right now.”

Zout: “I never once referred to the Intercontinental Title as the Grizzly Beer Title. It’s all right there on tape, why don’t you review it again. Why does such a small detail worry me? Because it shows me you miss the small details. It tells me you don’t care enough to invest even the slightest interest in your opponent, and Cody… It tells me you simply just don’t care enough. Seriously, bro. If you can’t put the effort into a promo… What the hell are you going to look like in the ring this Sunday?”

Kimmel: “Should I just? Maybe I should just shut up.”

Zout: “And then - as if paying absolutely no attention to the toughest opponent you will have yet to face in the PWA isn’t bad enough - you go on to tell me that your record doesn’t matter. Now I agree with you there. You don’t have to have the greatest record to be the biggest threat, but you also said that we should be judged by what we do in the ring. That’s where I get confused. So which way is it, Cody? Do we judge you by your in-ring abilities, or not? You can’t have it both ways. You’re either a competitor, or you aren’t. Cody, you were once a competitor. Lately, however… Let’s just say if you come at me the way you’ve been performing as of late I won’t get to steal the show. And why? My hands will be too full carrying your ass. So go ahead, Cody. Tell us what is said in these promos doesn’t matter, and then go ahead and cut one of your own and expect us to listen.”

Mark is forced into a pause, as his last line sinks in and sets the fans attending into a frenzy. The camera pans over them, and there are several poster board signs reading ‘Mark [Down Arrow]’, ‘Bogard fears the present!’ and ‘iMark’. The crowd calms again, and Jimmy Kimmel opens his mouth to speak, but Mark has already began.

Zout: “You see Cody, the fact of the matter is that promos do reflect on your in-ring abilities. Especially here in the PWA. Let’s face some facts, Cody, because it’s facts that get you places. Fact: my promo was up and waiting for a response for over a week before you submitted that… excuse for a promo. Cody, our match is going to be happening a lot more quickly than a week per maneuver. I’m not going to lock in a chicken wing and wait a week for you to try and weasel your way out, like you did with this promo.”

Zout: “Don’t get me wrong, it was cute. Your little Aikido robe with your meditation candles… It was all very sweet and quaint. But let’s look at what I said over a week before… And now what you said… And… Yup, the meat and potatoes stayed exactly the same, didn’t it?”

Zout: “Cody, you’re a disappointment. You have been ever since you left the island. I want SO BADLY for us to have an epic match this Sunday, but you aren’t making it easy on me. I’m not going to hold back, Cody. If I plant you with a drop toe hold and you’re tapping out to an Indian death lock within the first fifteen seconds, that’s fine. It won’t bother me nearly as much as you’d like to think it would. I WANT forty minute epic. I WANT to steal the show. I WANT the fans to scream ‘We want Zout! We want Bogard! We want Zout! We want Bogard!’ during the main event. But at the pace you’ve got us going at, they’re going to be chanting for the match to end before it begins. Way to promote.”

Zout: “Cody, I’m living in the present, because I have my fans in the here and now. I have my Markz and Markettez sitting in the audience and loving me loving them. I have my cheering sections who go through orgasms when they see chain combinations that leave both men in unbelief. I have an in with the Pure Wrestling community, Cody. Unlike you, who couldn’t be more distant from his fans out in Buttfuck Japan. Look Cody, you can live and die in the past, but I’m going to live every second as it happens, because that’s all I can do!”

Mark has to pause during each line during the above paragraph, his voice dripping in bravado. The fans in attendance are agreeing whole heartedly, and they are expressing so with ear-splitting volume. Mark continues as the fans continue.

Zout: “I have trained, I have sweat, bled, slept, ate, drank, and breathed you for the past two weeks, and you don’t so much as give me a timely reply. Any sense of compassion for you and our past is gone. What I’m after isn’t a legacy, Cody. It’s competition. Now you’re either going to give it to me, or I’m going to break you into pieces and find it somewhere else - like Marxx. And quitting, tapping? I’m not capable. Why not? Because I don’t do all this just for me. I do all this because I’m a Mark for the people. And Cody? Every cool kid…”

As Mark raises the microphone into the air above his head, the audience attending the Jimmy Kimmel Live show scream the following:

Fans: “Mark Zout!”

There is another deafening roar that Jimmy Kimmel is forced to speak over in order to make the show’s time frame.

Kimmel: “You seem to have made quite the impact here, Mark. You’re welcome back any time, and good luck against Cody Bogard this Sunday.”

Zout: “Thanks, Jimmy. But I’m not going to need luck. I have my desire, something it looks like Bogard lost a long time ago.”

Kimmel: “Thank-you and good night, ladies and gentlemen! Closing the show is Fallout Boy!”

As the band begins and the crowd dances and screams the camera fades…

To Black.