Do Not Resuscitate ( Drew Parker, Spike Trivet and Chuck Mambo )

Stable Name: Do Not Resuscitate

Stable Members: Drew Parker, Spike Trivet, Chuck Mambo

Height: Drew Parker: 5'10"
Spike Trivet: 6'0"
Chuck Mambo: 6'3"

Weight: Chuck Mambo:  196lbs,
Drew Parker: 175lbs
Spike Trivet 160lbs,
Combined 531lbs

Age: Drew Parker: 21,
Chuck Mambo: 25,
Spike Trivet: 22

Hometown: Drew Parker: Connah's Quay, Flintshire, England,  
Chuck Mambo:  Newquay, Cornwall, England,
Spike Trivet: Cambridge, Cambridgeshire, England

Nickname: Drew Parker: Urchin Prince

Manager: Jack Sexsmith

NCWA Accomplishments: Syndicate Division Champions (current)

Non-NWCA Accomplishments: Chuck Mambo: Riptide Brighton Champion

Drew Parker: HOPE 24/7 Hardcore Champion (12 time), Knights Of Chaos Champion (with Mike Bird), ATTACK! 24:7 Champion (2 time), Dragon Pro Tag Team Champion (with Ethan Silver as The YOLO Squad)

NCWA Win-Draw-Loss Record: Chuck Mambo: 4-1-0
Drew Parker: 5-1-1
Spike Trivet: 4-0-2
William Eaver: 2-0-0

Current NCWA Feud:

Face, Heel, or Tweener: Heel

Style of Wrestling: Brawlers

Gimmick: Hardcore, deathmatch style competitors, Do Not Resuscitate are a cunning, conniving, and cowardly group of heels. Willing to do whatever it takes, there is no limit to what these men will put their bodies, or their opponent's bodies through to get the job done.

Finisher: Drew Parker: 450 Splash,
Chuck Mambo: Chuck You " I scoop them up over my shoulders, so their head is hanging down my back, then grab their head and run n jump on to my ass"
Spike Trivet: Privilege Lock (Rings of Saturn submission)
Group: The Flatliner, the three surround a downed opponent and each focus on stomping a particular area of the body. This often includes the use of chairs during more extreme matches

Appearance: An eclectic group of individuals, nothing about their style says that they belong together. Drew Parker with his long hair and skinny jeans looks like he could be moonlighting in a punk band on the side, add the addition of his entrance mask that looks like a clown's smeared makeup and he could pick up a third gig at a haunted house. Chuck Mambo with his recently cut slicked back blond hair, white tee, and tight black pants looks like he just stepped off the set of a 1950s greaser film. Spike Trivet is the most well put together of the trio, appearing in a full suit, or at least button down, vest, and dress pants without the jacket, even when competing.



Entrance: "I'm Scum" by IDLES. Drew enters first, an axe usually swung over his shoulder, wearing his entrance mask. Spike, and Mambo enter at either side just a step behind him, a weapon over each of their shoulders: a barbed wire bat for Spike, and a barbed wire two by four for Chuck. Spike's hand rests on a walking cane with either a silver, or gold ball on the top depending on his suit. If the trio are not carrying weapons then there is instead a bottle of champagne in his free hand. If one of the three is to compete on their own, then they are the one to take the central position in their entrance leading the other two down to the ring.

Upon entering the ring, the three men's mentalities being to split off on their own. While Spike relaxes calmly in the corner, occasionally sipping on his champagne if he has it with him, the other two are a constant flurry of movement. Chuck moves from standing on the turnbuckle, to sitting on it, then getting down, sitting in the corner, and soon getting back up again. Like Chuck, Drew cannot stay still for long. He is repeatedly in, and out of the ring, sitting down, standing up, running laps in the ring, laps around the ring, he is an uncontrollable ball of restless energy

Introduction Promo:

[ The camera opens up on a trio of men standing in a semi-circle around a metal garbage can. The contents of the can are flaming as the three watch it with smug smiles on their faces. It is the one in the center, a slender young man with dingy brown hair that seems to turn a lighter blonde toward the ends who looks up first, a disgusted look on his face when his gaze meets the camera. ]

Drew: Independent. Wrestling. It seems like a lot of companies have forgotten what those two words mean in recent years. They're more interested in collaborating with the machine that is slowly eating their company alive to generate a couple weeks of decent hype until that borrowed talent goes home again.

[  the young man to his left tips his champagne flute in the other's direction. He's dressed impeccably in a full grey three-piece suit, the flames bouncing off the silver ball of the walking cane he holds ]

Spike: Or, they wait until somebody gets tired of running like a little rat in a wheel for that machine, and they clamor to pick up the scraps off the table, if they're lucky to get to them fast enough.

[ The young man to the right laughs, and runs his hand through his slicked-back blond hair ]

Chuck: Or even worse, maybe they do give a homegrown talent like one of us a shot at some'fing? It's a worthless fuckin' tournament win that doesn't amount to shit. No tit'le opportunity, no'fing. Just a "Yay, you won! Congrats...but we don't have any'fing else planned for you.."

Spike: We're sorry, but we've got no future dates.

Drew: Well, boys that stops here. With us. [ he looks directly at the camera again ] You see NCWA, I'm Drew Parker [ he points to his left ] This Spike Trivet [ then to his right ] and Chuck Mambo. You may have heard me called the urchin prince, but we're no royalty here to save your precious business no. We're here to grind every single one of you into the ground, and rebuild things from the ground up the way that it should have been. When all is said and done, and we're standing tall watching the light drain from your soulless, corrupted eyes well, the order has already been signed. Do. Not. Resuscitate. [ he looks back down at the fire and the camera fades to black ]