Leon Corella - Post 1-27 Promo *DISCLAIMER*
Feb 12, 2013 18:08:05 GMT -5
Post by thelion on Feb 12, 2013 18:08:05 GMT -5
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Disclaimer - Just so you guys know, this is completely in character and in no way, shape, or form intended to bash any handler in this promotion or Terry. This is just a character venting his frustrations in a very frank and open manner. It's not my intention to start fights or bullshit or anything of that nature. Take it as a very pissed off man who is perplexed as to why he finds himself in the situation he's in. Thank you and enjoy.
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[There it is, the FGA Banner draped across a wall. Lighting? check. Good camera angle? check. FGA's Justice Young in a grape colored suit, lavender shirt, and pale blue tie? You betcha'! A date stamp on the bottom right hand corner indicates the time and date this was shot- February 9th, 2013. The young African American wrestling interviewer looked eager and ready to go.]
Justice Young: Good evening Wrestling fans, this is Justice Young here and I have with me Leon Corella, right after his match against Chris Q.
[Leon steps into view, a towel draped on his bare shoulders. He sports full ring gear, his hands on his hips and long blond hair slicked back with sweat. There is a strange and somewhat vacant expression on his face as he stares right at Justice.]
Mr. Corella, what a crushing defeat you suffered tonight. I know alot of things must be going through y-GHACK!!!
[With a high speed left jab to the throat followed by a powerful right hand punch to the man's jaw, Leon drops Justice like a wet sack of potatoes. Bending forward, he picks up the dropped microphone, then stands straight up and looks towards the camera with a surprisingly calm look on his face.]
Corella: .................................................................................................
[For several seconds, he stands silent. Several times, Leon looks as if he's about to say something, only to stop and look away. After what feels like an eternity of time has passed, he finally finds his words, though they don't seem like something even he would say.]
...................what can I say? What can I possibly say at this point that would even fucking matter?
[His jaw sets, a look of consternation writing itself across his features.]
I... lost... to a bearded hobo... and I've been losing for a long time. It seems like no matter how hard I've trained, how developed I am physically, or even what condition I'm in. My opponents find ways to beat me and these are ways, I might add, that I should see coming.
[He steps out of the scene, the camera following his movements. We see the isolated backstage interview area beyond the banner. It's actually just a storage room that's far removed from the rest of the arena. Grabbing a folding chair from where it leaned against a crate, Leon unfolds it with a hand and foot, then settles down in the seat.]
This recent loss forced me to look back at my entire career as a whole and it... just... plain... sucks, and I don't understand why. I have the tools- a powerful physique, a good look, and strong wrestling ability in the ring. I'm not the worst guy to ever pick up a mic and start talking, but I'm smart enough to know that I'm no master wordsmith.
[Leon slowly shakes his head, his eyes cast to the floor as if he can't even look the camera in the eye.]
...and to top it all off, I let my ego override my good judgement, letting some asshole's bad advice color my actions for not one, but two promos. King Leon... heh... it's like some bad word play off of the band Kings of Leone....
[His head lifts, but still he doesn't look at the camera. One arm rises to his left as he speaks on with an incredulous expression on his face.]
...It shouldn't matter what I say or do outside of that wrestling ring, but it looks more like the better I promo, the better I perform in the ring. Like it's some sort of psychological issue. I know full well that I could have easily beaten Chris Q into paste, no matter how eloquently worded the man is. He should be a political speech writer with that kind of Gift of Gab.
[Taking the microphone in both hands, Leon leans forward in his seat, elbows on his knees and microphone held out in front of him.]
I am physically better than him and far more gifted in a wrestling ring, yet his bare bones brawler style matched a lifetime of training, over 28 years of my life having been dedicated to the mastery of the Pankration, and yet he managed to drop me with his finishing move, the Trash Compactor and pin me.
[Finally his gaze looks directly at the camera now.]
Right now, what you're seeing... this is a fucking shoot. This isn't me playing a King. This isn't me being some dumbass waving his hammer around like it's an extension of his dick. This is the real Leon Corella and I... am... tired of losing to weak and out of shape losers like Chris Q because I didn't talk good enough or make an entertaining enough speech for the masses.
[He nods the microphone briefly towards the camera.]
...and by Masses, I mean the people running this fucking joke of a wrestling promotion, Frontier Grappling Arts.
[His gaze narrows and jaw sets as fury blazes in his eyes.]
You know what? So fucking what if I don't cut a promo that is to your liking! So.... what... if I don't say the right words to inspire you? I'M A MOTHERFUCKING PROFESSIONAL WRESTLER!!! I WRESTLE!!! I shouldn't lose because a weak fucker like Chris Q is good on a stick....
[Leon is practically screaming into the microphone at this point, his entire body quivering and shaking with pure, psychotic rage!]
...IF I LOSE, IT SHOULD BE BECAUSE THE GUY IS ACTUALLY BETTER THAN ME!!! NOT BECAUSE HE CAN FUCKING TALK ON A MICROPHONE!!!!!
[His nostrils flare with each forceful breath, a wooshing sound made as they pass over the pick up on the microphone.]
You people claim to want wrestling and wrestlers, but really... you just want personalities. You don't care if they know the difference between a cravat and a headlock, or whether or not they know the right pressure points on an arm to inflict the most pain possible with a standing wristlock and arm wrench. You don't want a guy who will sling his opponent to the mat and lock him up like a bitch when he runs his mouth...
[He smirks.]
...You want characters and bullshit gimmicks and my only mistake was I tried to play that little game and clearly, it cost me in more ways than a win. I lost respect and dignity in one goddamned promo!! I admit it, I made a bad call and I went with it, but to be honest, it shouldn't have cost me in that wrestling ring.
[Leon slowly tilts his head to the left, strands of blond hair falling across his face.]
Now, I'm changing the script. I'm not laying down for wanna-be celebrities who think they can wrestle. You want to win? FUCKING BRING IT! Don't just get on the stick and find some sad, depressing as fuck story about yourself and go on and on about it, or I WILL RIP YOUR SORRY ASS APART!!!
[He speaks through gritted teeth, partially bared in anger.]
...and don't you dare step in front of a camera, pretending to be anything but the loser you are. A chip on your shoulder and a thesaurus doesn't equal a win in the regular world, so why the fuck should it equate a win here? You want to be a winner? TRY WORKING OUT, GET SOME REAL, CERTIFIED TRAINING, AND COME AT ME LIKE A MAN!!!
[He tilts his head to the right now, looking off at some random object in the distance.]
So many wrestlers step into a wrestling ring, winning fights they have no business winning, then turn around and go to a bar. There they pick a fight with a guy two sizes too big for them and ya' know what typically happens? He gets his ass beaten like a bitch, but to the rest of the world, he's untouchable.
[Leon smirks.]
I actually have been in more than a few street fights with real, hardcore motherfuckers and more often than not, I've been the last man standing. Yet I step into a wrestling ring and I get beaten by some flabby, bearded motherfucker with a drug habit and a perpetual hang-over from hell. Yeah, that makes alot of sense doesn't it? A drug free Pankration Master, trained in a fighting style that has only improved over multiple generations within my family tree, only to step in the ring and look like he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.
[He looks away from the camera with a bitter sneer of disgust.]
Maybe I should start snorting crack cocaine and talking about how sad and pathetic I am. Heh, maybe I'd start winning some matches. Yeah, I dye my hair black, start wearing guy liner, put my heart on my sleeve for all to see, and start the waterworks up about how big a failure I am!!! Maybe the weaker I act, the better I'll wrestle!!!
[With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Leon lets out a sarcastic laugh. He then turns his head back to the camera.]
That's what's so ironic about our [hand quotes] "sport." It's so painfully obvious that I'm surprised the dirt sheets don't just call a match by who cuts the better promo for us! It's made the matches themselves boringly predictable!
[Leon suddenly takes on a Philly style accent in an effort to sound like a douchebag internet wrestling aficionado.]
"Oh yeah... Dat Corella guy is sunk, even doh his opponent only has four actual wrestling moves, one eye, and a peg leg, because he cut da' promo ta' end all promos! DEEEERRRRPPP!!!!"
[He smirks, dropping the act.]
If you say I'm wrong, you're a fucking liar. I have been kept down in this sport for over a decade despite the fact that I'm a guy who puts more effort, more time, and even more money into this sport than nearly any professional wrestler alive today. I train hard to maintain this body, keep my skills sharp, and I do it all in an effort to be the best in this business, but how can I be the best when I'm not allowed to wrestle to the full extent of my capabilities and actually put these fat, lazy excuses for men to the chopping block?
[With a sad shake of his head, Leon sits up in his chair.]
Like I said previously, I'm better than this and I know it and part of me really... really has been tempted to hang up the boots lately. When I started out in wrestling, it used to be that if you had a marketable look and/or ring presence and legitamite in-ring wrestling skill, the world was your oyster. You didn't need to be gifted on the microphone so long as you actually kicked people's asses and make it worth watching. In my father's day, it was actually the guy who talked too much that got his ass beaten. Kid's these days...
[Catching himself making the old man phrase, He permitted himself a small laugh and another shake of his head.]
...meh heheheheheheheheh... Yeah, Kids these days don't have to put nearly the same level of effort into a wrestling match to win it like they did when I was fresh meat in a wrestling ring. Oh sure, there's acrobatics and lots of jumping around, but it's all for show. Why would they need to know how to wrestle properly when all they have to do is talk well?
[With a soft sigh, he tilts his head back.]
...but there is hope for the future. One guy has made it despite the fact that he isn't a great talker. This man is the UWL World Heavyweight Champion, Pat Gordon Jr. I've faced him once before and even though I won that match, it was by the barest of margins that I defeated him for the Patriot Championship which I still have in my trophy case at home.
[He leans forward in his seat once more, tilting his head a bit towards the camera.]
I'm set to face him at an event, hosted by NAW called St. Valentine's Day Massacre, for the UWL World Heavyweight Championship. Unlike some of the sorrier fuckwads in this promotion, if he does manage to beat me, I know it won't be because he's great on a microphone.
[Leon points towards the floor for emphasis.]
If he beats me, it'll be because he can wrestle and most importantly, wrestle well.
[With a soft plop against his thigh, he lets that hand drop back down in his lap.]
Either way, each and everyone of you FGA "wrestlers" better pay close fucking attention to what me and Pat put on at the Massacre, because that is where you will see true, edge of your seat wrestling between two guys who know what the hell they are doing... and Pat...
[Rising from his seat, Leon walks right up to the camera.]
...Pay close attention. What you're getting, isn't an act or a gimmick. It's not some hamfisted attempt to force feed a "change in character". You're facing me in the most important match of your career, one that could define your legacy for generations to come whether or not you win. You're already a made man, now it's time to become the stuff legends are made of, for real men like us aren't meant for the sport of Kings in this generation.
So let's make this count. Maybe we can take wrestling back from the actors and pretenders and maybe... just maybe... get us one step closer to truly legitimizing the sport of professional wrestling and destroying the ideals of "sports entertainment" once and for all.
[Grim determination is a term that would best describe the look on his face.]
It's not about the Championship. It's about proving who the best man is and what professional wrestling is all about. See you on the 16th....
[Turning to his left, Leon steps back where we find a woozy Justice Young on his knees and looking rather dazed and confused. He looks up at Leon.]
Justice Young: Where am I....
[He looks up at Corella.]
...who are you?
[Snarling, Leon spins with one leg raised level with Justice's head and smacks his face with a savage mid roundhouse, knocking the man unconscious once more.]
Corella: I'M LEON CORELLA!!! REMEMBER IT!!!
[Smoldering with anger, Leon steps off camera, the scene fading to black.]
Disclaimer - Just so you guys know, this is completely in character and in no way, shape, or form intended to bash any handler in this promotion or Terry. This is just a character venting his frustrations in a very frank and open manner. It's not my intention to start fights or bullshit or anything of that nature. Take it as a very pissed off man who is perplexed as to why he finds himself in the situation he's in. Thank you and enjoy.
=====================================================
[There it is, the FGA Banner draped across a wall. Lighting? check. Good camera angle? check. FGA's Justice Young in a grape colored suit, lavender shirt, and pale blue tie? You betcha'! A date stamp on the bottom right hand corner indicates the time and date this was shot- February 9th, 2013. The young African American wrestling interviewer looked eager and ready to go.]
Justice Young: Good evening Wrestling fans, this is Justice Young here and I have with me Leon Corella, right after his match against Chris Q.
[Leon steps into view, a towel draped on his bare shoulders. He sports full ring gear, his hands on his hips and long blond hair slicked back with sweat. There is a strange and somewhat vacant expression on his face as he stares right at Justice.]
Mr. Corella, what a crushing defeat you suffered tonight. I know alot of things must be going through y-GHACK!!!
[With a high speed left jab to the throat followed by a powerful right hand punch to the man's jaw, Leon drops Justice like a wet sack of potatoes. Bending forward, he picks up the dropped microphone, then stands straight up and looks towards the camera with a surprisingly calm look on his face.]
Corella: .................................................................................................
[For several seconds, he stands silent. Several times, Leon looks as if he's about to say something, only to stop and look away. After what feels like an eternity of time has passed, he finally finds his words, though they don't seem like something even he would say.]
...................what can I say? What can I possibly say at this point that would even fucking matter?
[His jaw sets, a look of consternation writing itself across his features.]
I... lost... to a bearded hobo... and I've been losing for a long time. It seems like no matter how hard I've trained, how developed I am physically, or even what condition I'm in. My opponents find ways to beat me and these are ways, I might add, that I should see coming.
[He steps out of the scene, the camera following his movements. We see the isolated backstage interview area beyond the banner. It's actually just a storage room that's far removed from the rest of the arena. Grabbing a folding chair from where it leaned against a crate, Leon unfolds it with a hand and foot, then settles down in the seat.]
This recent loss forced me to look back at my entire career as a whole and it... just... plain... sucks, and I don't understand why. I have the tools- a powerful physique, a good look, and strong wrestling ability in the ring. I'm not the worst guy to ever pick up a mic and start talking, but I'm smart enough to know that I'm no master wordsmith.
[Leon slowly shakes his head, his eyes cast to the floor as if he can't even look the camera in the eye.]
...and to top it all off, I let my ego override my good judgement, letting some asshole's bad advice color my actions for not one, but two promos. King Leon... heh... it's like some bad word play off of the band Kings of Leone....
[His head lifts, but still he doesn't look at the camera. One arm rises to his left as he speaks on with an incredulous expression on his face.]
...It shouldn't matter what I say or do outside of that wrestling ring, but it looks more like the better I promo, the better I perform in the ring. Like it's some sort of psychological issue. I know full well that I could have easily beaten Chris Q into paste, no matter how eloquently worded the man is. He should be a political speech writer with that kind of Gift of Gab.
[Taking the microphone in both hands, Leon leans forward in his seat, elbows on his knees and microphone held out in front of him.]
I am physically better than him and far more gifted in a wrestling ring, yet his bare bones brawler style matched a lifetime of training, over 28 years of my life having been dedicated to the mastery of the Pankration, and yet he managed to drop me with his finishing move, the Trash Compactor and pin me.
[Finally his gaze looks directly at the camera now.]
Right now, what you're seeing... this is a fucking shoot. This isn't me playing a King. This isn't me being some dumbass waving his hammer around like it's an extension of his dick. This is the real Leon Corella and I... am... tired of losing to weak and out of shape losers like Chris Q because I didn't talk good enough or make an entertaining enough speech for the masses.
[He nods the microphone briefly towards the camera.]
...and by Masses, I mean the people running this fucking joke of a wrestling promotion, Frontier Grappling Arts.
[His gaze narrows and jaw sets as fury blazes in his eyes.]
You know what? So fucking what if I don't cut a promo that is to your liking! So.... what... if I don't say the right words to inspire you? I'M A MOTHERFUCKING PROFESSIONAL WRESTLER!!! I WRESTLE!!! I shouldn't lose because a weak fucker like Chris Q is good on a stick....
[Leon is practically screaming into the microphone at this point, his entire body quivering and shaking with pure, psychotic rage!]
...IF I LOSE, IT SHOULD BE BECAUSE THE GUY IS ACTUALLY BETTER THAN ME!!! NOT BECAUSE HE CAN FUCKING TALK ON A MICROPHONE!!!!!
[His nostrils flare with each forceful breath, a wooshing sound made as they pass over the pick up on the microphone.]
You people claim to want wrestling and wrestlers, but really... you just want personalities. You don't care if they know the difference between a cravat and a headlock, or whether or not they know the right pressure points on an arm to inflict the most pain possible with a standing wristlock and arm wrench. You don't want a guy who will sling his opponent to the mat and lock him up like a bitch when he runs his mouth...
[He smirks.]
...You want characters and bullshit gimmicks and my only mistake was I tried to play that little game and clearly, it cost me in more ways than a win. I lost respect and dignity in one goddamned promo!! I admit it, I made a bad call and I went with it, but to be honest, it shouldn't have cost me in that wrestling ring.
[Leon slowly tilts his head to the left, strands of blond hair falling across his face.]
Now, I'm changing the script. I'm not laying down for wanna-be celebrities who think they can wrestle. You want to win? FUCKING BRING IT! Don't just get on the stick and find some sad, depressing as fuck story about yourself and go on and on about it, or I WILL RIP YOUR SORRY ASS APART!!!
[He speaks through gritted teeth, partially bared in anger.]
...and don't you dare step in front of a camera, pretending to be anything but the loser you are. A chip on your shoulder and a thesaurus doesn't equal a win in the regular world, so why the fuck should it equate a win here? You want to be a winner? TRY WORKING OUT, GET SOME REAL, CERTIFIED TRAINING, AND COME AT ME LIKE A MAN!!!
[He tilts his head to the right now, looking off at some random object in the distance.]
So many wrestlers step into a wrestling ring, winning fights they have no business winning, then turn around and go to a bar. There they pick a fight with a guy two sizes too big for them and ya' know what typically happens? He gets his ass beaten like a bitch, but to the rest of the world, he's untouchable.
[Leon smirks.]
I actually have been in more than a few street fights with real, hardcore motherfuckers and more often than not, I've been the last man standing. Yet I step into a wrestling ring and I get beaten by some flabby, bearded motherfucker with a drug habit and a perpetual hang-over from hell. Yeah, that makes alot of sense doesn't it? A drug free Pankration Master, trained in a fighting style that has only improved over multiple generations within my family tree, only to step in the ring and look like he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.
[He looks away from the camera with a bitter sneer of disgust.]
Maybe I should start snorting crack cocaine and talking about how sad and pathetic I am. Heh, maybe I'd start winning some matches. Yeah, I dye my hair black, start wearing guy liner, put my heart on my sleeve for all to see, and start the waterworks up about how big a failure I am!!! Maybe the weaker I act, the better I'll wrestle!!!
[With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Leon lets out a sarcastic laugh. He then turns his head back to the camera.]
That's what's so ironic about our [hand quotes] "sport." It's so painfully obvious that I'm surprised the dirt sheets don't just call a match by who cuts the better promo for us! It's made the matches themselves boringly predictable!
[Leon suddenly takes on a Philly style accent in an effort to sound like a douchebag internet wrestling aficionado.]
"Oh yeah... Dat Corella guy is sunk, even doh his opponent only has four actual wrestling moves, one eye, and a peg leg, because he cut da' promo ta' end all promos! DEEEERRRRPPP!!!!"
[He smirks, dropping the act.]
If you say I'm wrong, you're a fucking liar. I have been kept down in this sport for over a decade despite the fact that I'm a guy who puts more effort, more time, and even more money into this sport than nearly any professional wrestler alive today. I train hard to maintain this body, keep my skills sharp, and I do it all in an effort to be the best in this business, but how can I be the best when I'm not allowed to wrestle to the full extent of my capabilities and actually put these fat, lazy excuses for men to the chopping block?
[With a sad shake of his head, Leon sits up in his chair.]
Like I said previously, I'm better than this and I know it and part of me really... really has been tempted to hang up the boots lately. When I started out in wrestling, it used to be that if you had a marketable look and/or ring presence and legitamite in-ring wrestling skill, the world was your oyster. You didn't need to be gifted on the microphone so long as you actually kicked people's asses and make it worth watching. In my father's day, it was actually the guy who talked too much that got his ass beaten. Kid's these days...
[Catching himself making the old man phrase, He permitted himself a small laugh and another shake of his head.]
...meh heheheheheheheheh... Yeah, Kids these days don't have to put nearly the same level of effort into a wrestling match to win it like they did when I was fresh meat in a wrestling ring. Oh sure, there's acrobatics and lots of jumping around, but it's all for show. Why would they need to know how to wrestle properly when all they have to do is talk well?
[With a soft sigh, he tilts his head back.]
...but there is hope for the future. One guy has made it despite the fact that he isn't a great talker. This man is the UWL World Heavyweight Champion, Pat Gordon Jr. I've faced him once before and even though I won that match, it was by the barest of margins that I defeated him for the Patriot Championship which I still have in my trophy case at home.
[He leans forward in his seat once more, tilting his head a bit towards the camera.]
I'm set to face him at an event, hosted by NAW called St. Valentine's Day Massacre, for the UWL World Heavyweight Championship. Unlike some of the sorrier fuckwads in this promotion, if he does manage to beat me, I know it won't be because he's great on a microphone.
[Leon points towards the floor for emphasis.]
If he beats me, it'll be because he can wrestle and most importantly, wrestle well.
[With a soft plop against his thigh, he lets that hand drop back down in his lap.]
Either way, each and everyone of you FGA "wrestlers" better pay close fucking attention to what me and Pat put on at the Massacre, because that is where you will see true, edge of your seat wrestling between two guys who know what the hell they are doing... and Pat...
[Rising from his seat, Leon walks right up to the camera.]
...Pay close attention. What you're getting, isn't an act or a gimmick. It's not some hamfisted attempt to force feed a "change in character". You're facing me in the most important match of your career, one that could define your legacy for generations to come whether or not you win. You're already a made man, now it's time to become the stuff legends are made of, for real men like us aren't meant for the sport of Kings in this generation.
So let's make this count. Maybe we can take wrestling back from the actors and pretenders and maybe... just maybe... get us one step closer to truly legitimizing the sport of professional wrestling and destroying the ideals of "sports entertainment" once and for all.
[Grim determination is a term that would best describe the look on his face.]
It's not about the Championship. It's about proving who the best man is and what professional wrestling is all about. See you on the 16th....
[Turning to his left, Leon steps back where we find a woozy Justice Young on his knees and looking rather dazed and confused. He looks up at Leon.]
Justice Young: Where am I....
[He looks up at Corella.]
...who are you?
[Snarling, Leon spins with one leg raised level with Justice's head and smacks his face with a savage mid roundhouse, knocking the man unconscious once more.]
Corella: I'M LEON CORELLA!!! REMEMBER IT!!!
[Smoldering with anger, Leon steps off camera, the scene fading to black.]