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Post by Ro on Apr 8, 2008 1:03:01 GMT -5
VCW officially opens with a shitload of pyro and the sound of Stephen Lynch's "Craig" hits the speakers as VCW Genera Manager Craig Christ comes down the ramp, accompanied by Erich Ahriman, Exodus, Fuego Mistico, and Mitchell King, to the massive chorus of boos from the audience!
Craig: Okay, monkeys, welcome to another edition of Vendetta Championship Wrestling, live from Glendale, Arizona...
Huge pop.
Craig: ...the official shithole this side of the Mojave Desert!
Huge boos.
Craig: First off, I'd like to address the number of growing talent on this show, and we've got a couple of new guys starting to make trouble around these parts. Luckily I have my main man Adam Wylde and fortunately for me, and for ALL of you and your entertainment, he's agreed to take care of that problem! Can I get a boo-yah for Mr. Adam Wylde?
Crowd boos Adam Wylde, who is in the back and not out with Christ.
Craig: ...Right. Now, I said something about a Wildcard last show. All of you took the bait and got on VCW.com and voted for their superstar of choice, and I have, here with me, the official result of that poll. I'm shaking with excitement at some jobber getting another chance!
Huge pop at the Wildcard mention. Craig pulls out an envelope from his pants pocket.
Craig: And the official Wildcard is...
He pulls out a piece of paper from the envelope and reads it. His face falls.
Craig: John Dunn.
Crowd erupts in a massive pop for Dunn.
Craig: Hey, don't I have a scheduled match with Dunn?
Crowd boos. All of a sudden, white noise plays from the speakers and on the big screen, then the mysterious voice speaks! The crowd pops!
Voice: Well now, that's quite a predicament, isn't it?
Craig: Yeah, Mr. Mysterious. What are you gonna do about it? Ain't no one for me to face now! And in the spirit of friendly competition, I'm gonna make it Mr. Urban Poor himself Thomas Hookton versus Wildcard John Dunn!
Crowd boos.
Voice: Fine. But let me tell you one thing, Christ, you've got another man wanting to get to your guts. That man is none other than Mr. Romeo McCoy, and tonight you're gonna face him one-on-one!
Crowd pops at this new announcement.
Craig: Now hoooold on there, cowboy! Romeo McCoy already has a match with Colt Conrad!
Craig Christ laughs and the crowd boos.
Voice: Well...
Craig: ...No, no, Dr. Mandingo, I've got an idea! How about I put myself in that match to make it a totally fair triple threat! How do you like that?
Crowd boos real hard.
Voice: I don't see why not, Christ. Anything can happen in such a match. Romeo might even... beat you.
Craig: Oh, you're a good joker, all right, Charlie. Well, I'm really glad that we can come to an understanding. Now, boys, time to go, all of you have matches to get ready for tonight!Vendetta Championship Wrestling 1.3 Live from the Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Eric Ares vs. Anon Ehmus
Adam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair Bain
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Cain Ravid vs. Sir Feyd Brisbane
Tag Team Chaos Sick Fixx and Fytor vs. Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb vs. Chris Austin and iSav vs. 13 and Ribz
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Exodus vs. Magnum
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Thomas Hookton vs. John /d/unn
Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ
PLUS, Gregory Best addresses Adam Wylde, Andrew Carpenter debuts Ring of Fire, and just who exactly is this mysterious voice?
PROMO ONLY until Thursday, April 17 11:59 PM PST. VOTING AND PROMO until Saturday, April 19 11:59 PST.
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Mr. Thomas Hookton
Lower Midcarder
If Heaven Rides Against Us, Then Gods Be Damned
Posts: 117
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Post by Mr. Thomas Hookton on Apr 9, 2008 10:49:42 GMT -5
Chapter 2: A Residue of Confusion Remains. Unfortunately for me I took a good shot to the knee in that four way match at 1.2 and my left knee was swelling up like some freakish green and purple balloon. Not the most attractive thing in the world, but luckily for me I had a wife that loved inflicting pain on me, and you’ll never know if I mean the kinky way or not, so treating a wound was like a holiday in Jamaica for her.Ow...be careful would yah?“I haven’t even touched you yet you big baby.” Fair, but it’s cold even if you aren’t touching me with it. Frozen stuff tends to make other stuff cold.“You of all people are going to lecture me on science. Listen Thommy, I can just let this knee swell if you want and watch you hobble around the house for the next week. It’ll be painful for you, but funny for me.” Alright, alright. I’ll suck it up. Just quit holding the ice slightly above my knee with that menacing grin on your face alright. It’s terrifying.“Calling your wife terrifying while she is tending your wounds is a poor choice of words.” Well with the hole I’m digging I’m going to need a bigger shovel aren’t I?“Far bigger. Now hold still.” I screamed as the ice touched my knee, I can tell you that much for sure. Hell, Mr. Johnson three houses down and across the street can tell you that much. I hate the feeling that causing pain to make you feel better evokes. It just doesn’t make sense to me, I mean it works, but really, shouldn’t we not make things hurt to make them better? I never did like biology much, unless it was the physical application of anatomy, but that’s another story. Of course Ben, our baby, got a kick out of all of this screaming, he just sat in his crib laughing as his Daddy was almost in tears. He gets that from his Mother, I’m sure of it. Sadists, the both of them.Well step one is complete I suppose.“Oh? Planning ahead is unlike you, as is being organized. Are we seeing a new Thomas Hookton?” Ha...Ha... I love you too smartass. I’m just saying I made it to the next round of the Seraphim Falls tournament. Which brings me one step closer to being a real contender in this federation.“And this is a good thing?” I’m pretty sure yeah. I’m tired of being the worker, or the grinder. Not that I’d ever forsake where I came from, it’s just that in order to fight the system it seems you have to be within it to do anything at all. So as long as I can maintain my morals and fight for a cause I believe in, the further I can go within this company the better. People have seen what I can do and where words fail, actions speak volumes. There was a spark in my match last night, but it wasn’t because some kid had some matches. No, last night the flames that will guide the uprising and purge the management took hold of that ring, took hold of me and I don’t plan on letting them die. “Be careful Thom. You’re still new to this and it seems still royally pissed off. Don’t do anything stupid because you think it’s the right thing to do. Sometimes you have to bide your time.” The voice of reason as always. I know, sometimes I will have to wait and I can handle that. Sometimes I will have to accept my losses and that’s fair. But I hope Christ and all his lackey’s know that I will not stop until we are all equals or the last breath of my body has left me. And even then, you can kill me, but the ideal will live on forever.I liked to talk a pretty tough game, but I wouldn’t have the Chutzpah to back it up if it weren’t for a very wise man I once knew. He was like family to me, the brother I never had, the father that—well that’s another story.A Few Years Ago I would remember him anywhere. A brilliant man, and luckily for us, our former neighbour. He was the head of the History and Religion faculties at the Saint John campus of the University of New Brunswick before being transferred to the Fredericton campus. It probably had something to do with more funding for his research. He had been talking about something he had discovered on the Isle of Patmos, but the funding in Saint John wasn’t enough for him to return. Either way Dr. Quint was a brilliant man and he had told me something that always stuck with me. This was years before Ben was born, but it was his comment that not only inspired us to name Harley as Ben’s Godfather, but it influenced his name as well. Benjamin Harley Hookton. I know Harley is a rather weird name, but Catherine loved the name so we stuck with it.“Thom? Thomas Hookton what brings you to my neck of the woods? You are probably the last person I’d expect to see wandering the halls of a University.” Hey Harley, your wit never ceases to amaze me. Do you have a minute?“I’ve always got time for a neighbour, so long as it doesn’t become a “Tool Time” esque relationship. I have no desire to be Wilson.” I’ll see what we can do about that. I don’t have any kids and lack a television program so I think we are gonna be pretty good. What I wanted to ask, or rather talk to you about is just something going on down at the Port. There’s been a lot of rumblings recently about our contract renewal coming up and the boys are pushing for me to move onto the negotiations teams for the union.“That sounds like a wonderful opportunity for you. I mean it’s no change in pay, as I’m sure you are aware, but it contributes nicely to a resume if anything were to happen.” True enough, I’m just worried that I’ll let the boys down. What if I’m not able to be strong enough in the negotiations to get everything we want. What if I let the management walk all over us and take away things we need.“Well you’ve mentioned two very different things right there. Things you want and things you need. By definition alone, a thing you want isn’t necessarily a need, while a need at the same time isn’t always a want. However one is imperative to survival, much like food and shelter, where as the other one is a six pack of Moosehead for the weekend. Now while we all enjoy the Moosehead, which reminds me, I’m barbecuing this weekend, you and Catherine are more than welcome to come over, the beer is on me this time. Like I was saying while we all enjoy the beer, it isn’t needed to live. You are a smart man Thom, it may not be in a classical academic sense, but you have your head on your shoulders correctly.” So what you’re saying is that I’ll know what needs to be done when the time comes?“Not exactly, what I’m saying is that you are smart enough to know when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em. You are in tune with what the people want, but not only that, you know what they need. But beware at the same time, with great power comes great responsibility.” Thanks Uncle Ben.“Uncle Ben? Who’s that? I’m not sure I follow.” Spiderman?“He’s some form of superhero I presume?” Oh right, you are the classical academic smart, my bad.“Indeed, it does appear to be your bad. Thomas I hate to cut this short but I have to be running, “The Art of Alliances” doesn’t teach itself, though some days I wish it did. I’ll see you Friday night.” Okay, thanks Harley. By the way before I go, what’s with the mask?I motioned towards a mask and spandex suit laying on his desk, I had never seen anything like them before.“Ahh I am to be in an operatic production, a Commedia Dell’Arte if you will.” A what?“Commedia Dell’Arte, it means “Comedy of Humours” in Latin. I am to be playing the role of Arlecchino, or The Harlequin. “ Harlequin eh? Seems fitting.“Rather. I was approached about the opportunity to play this role by a colleague of mine on campus. I had done many operatic productions during my education but have since stopped, mind you that was only a few years ago.” Good point, you are rather young for someone with their Doctorate.“Some of us just work quicker I suppose. But this production shall be amusing, you see I am to also be playing the role of ‘Fifth Business’.” Again, you’re going to have to fill me in Doc, I don’t know anything about the opera.“Well young Hookton, there are often four main characters in operatic production, your leading man and woman, the protagonists, and the secondary man and woman, the antagonists. Well the role of ‘Fifth Business’ is to be neither good nor evil but a confidant to either side. You see ‘Fifth Business’ knows all that goes on between every character. Also while playing the Harlequin I get to be rather insane and crazy so it shall be a great production.” Well let me know when you are performing, Catherine and I will come. It will be fun to see you play an insane character, it’s so unlike you.Little did I know I suppose.“I will let you know indeed. Anyways I really do have to get running to that class, sorry to kick you out Thomas.” I can remember leaving the office a little bit surer of what I was doing. Still on the fence about the whole situation but it had struck a resounding chord. Harley was right, when it came right down to the line I knew what was needed and what was just frills and that was why I was chosen for the position I was in. The guys at the Port trusted me, and I needed to have faith in that trust. Eventually we got what we needed, but not everything we wanted from the negotiations.Back to the Future
(Where We’re Going, We Don’t Need Roads) Needless to say getting what we wanted from the negotiations didn’t really help us too much when they shut the Port down, but in the interim it was certainly a blessing.Harley was right you know that babe.“What do you mean?” Well, it’s a shame he had to move away but his studies were important, but he was right about knowing what to do when the time came. I think that time is coming again, I’ve never been a religious fellow, and you know I have no belief in destiny, but it feels as though now that I’m in VCW I have a reason to be there. Sure initially it was just to make money, but now I see it. It’s no different there than it is anywhere else, it is exactly the same breakdown of a workforce. Christ and his management walk all over us while no one will take a stand to stop him.“Don’t get in over your head Thom. We need the money, don’t go getting yourself fired because it seems like ‘the right thing to do’.” I know, and I don’t plan on it. But I want to give Ben a father he can look up to, somebody he can say did the right thing at the right time. But not only that I want to give those who can’t fight for themselves some protection, to give people who can’t speak for themselves a voice.“It’s all well and good being selfless honey, but sometimes you have to say screw the other people and be selfish.” We’ll deal with that when the time comes I suppose, for now these people need a hero, they need someone to stand up for them, they need someone who knows the difference between a roof over their head or a can of Moosehead in their hands.“Not your best reference Thom.” I know but it will have to do.“So you think by making it further into this ‘Seraphim Falls Tournament’ you’ll be able to accomplish your goals?” That’s the plan, but they aren’t just my plans.“Don’t be deluded Thom, until people recognize what you are doing, they are solely your plans, selfless or not.” Fine, my plans, but yes the further I can move ahead in this tournament I feel the more good I can do. I went into this only wanting a paycheque to support our family-“To HELP support our family, I work too Thom.” Sorry, my bad. But like I was saying it started as nothing more than a paycheque, but now...now that I’ve been in there, now that I’ve been around that atmosphere something needs to change. Craig Christ is nothing more than a tyrant, not in the old classic Greek sense of tyrant.“I know what the old tyrants were Thom, you don’t have to explain it to me.” Good point oh educated one. It’s true Catherine was an infinite amount smarter than I was, there was no stepping around it. Sometimes I felt a compulsive urge to explain things that I figured most people weren’t aware of, generally they are and just humour me.Either way, Christ is a tyrant. He runs VCW with some form of a sick, twisted iron fist and I can’t let that stand. I’ve been fucked over by this province, I’ve been fucked by the management at the port and I will not be screwed again by the management at VCW. I simply cannot let that stand, I can’t let it happen to me and most of all I can’t let it happen to the others. I’ll accept my defeats when they come, you can’t win them all, but I will have my victories, Christ had better recognize that now or there will be hell to pay.“But?” But what?“I know that expression Thom, something else is still on your mind. You aren’t exactly amazing at hiding your feelings.” It’s just the match at 1.3. “What’s the matter with it, it’s just another match.” It’s a lot easier to just say it’s another match, in reality it is so much more. The boys in the locker room aren’t idiots, we know Christ is pitting the good guys against each other so he can advance his lackeys in the tournament. Dunn has had to face allies two weeks in a row, he’s been eliminated from the tournament and brought back from the brink by votes with this wildcard addition. He is going to be fighting like a hobo drunk on Listerine and I have to get into the ring with him.“You’ll be fine Thom.” That’s the problem, it’s not as simple as saying I’ll be fine, I wish it was, I really do. John is an ally and above all else a friend. I hope he can understand that whatever I have to do in that ring is not done out of malice or spite.“Well Thom he’s not an idiot. He wouldn’t be expecting you to simply roll over and let him win. If getting to Christ is as important as your say, and John is your ally, then it only stands to reason that he will want the stronger man to get to the top. Whether that is him or you.” Yeah, good point. I just don’t want to burn any bridges.“Quit being such a wimp and quit feeling sorry for yourself. Go out there, fight until you are lieing in a pool or blood or he is and then shake his hand.” Catherine?“Sorry, I get worked up pretty easy I guess.” I guess so. Well then there’s only one thing to do. John Dunn, I’m coming for you, whether I like it or not.If Heaven Rides Against Us, Then The Gods Be Damned. If Mortals Stand Before Us, Then Strike Them Down With Sleight Of Hand. [/i] Chapter 2.5: This One’s For The Worker The doors part at the entrance of NBCC (New Brunswick Community College) and we begin to meander down the halls of the main building. We walk up a slight incline and feel a gust of warm air hit us, not enough to overpower us, but enough to let us know the what we are about to walk into is a breezeway, hence the breeze. We cross the breezeway into the annex and take our first left. Thus re-entering the same classroom we found ourselves in last week. We also find Hookton again seated behind the desk scribbling furiously on a pad of yellow paper. Looking up Hookton notices the entrants to his room.Ah, welcome back class. This is “Propaganda: Friend or Foe”, if this is not where you are supposed to be, please exit stage left. Today’s topic of discussion is again on Craig Christ, but this week it is about some of the recent backstage shenanigans that have been going on. I’ve noticed, as I’m sure all of you have as well, a recent increase in the lackey’s and goons that seem to be siding with Christ and his tyrannical government. Well lads and gentlemen today’s meeting is also about the worker.Hookton raises from his chair and walks over to the front of the desk, raising himself up he sit down on the edge of the desk, staring at the class. His breathing is slow, not nervous about what he is about to say, but slow for the sake of theatrics.You see, for too long we have been slaves to those in charge. For too long it has been us who is trampled on so they have their way. Well not anymore, you see this one’s for the worker who toils night and day with nothing more than hand and brain to earn our pay. We have sat silenced for too long, been the underpinning of society for too long to be simply bullied around by Christ and his associates. We are the ones who for centuries long past for no more than their bread have bled for their countries and counted as their dead.Hookton, much like last meeting again rises himself up to stand on his desk as if he is standing behind a pulpit, shouting to the throngs of citizens in Ancient Rome.You see we are the first ones to starve and the first ones to die. But we’re always the last when any cream is shared out because boys you know that the worker is working his ass off when those fat cats are about. But that is just the thing, if we aren’t careful it will become us. If we are not unified in our stance against Christ and his iron fisted rule then we are nothing. United we stand, divided we fall, together we are what we can’t be alone.If we sit and do nothing they will come for us, they will separate us, they will pit us against each other, then what will we do. Because when that sky darkens and the prospect is war you’ll be given a gun and then pushed to the fore. He’ll expect you to die for the land of your birth even though you’ve never owned one lousy handful of earth. Don’t you see, if he separates us and pits us against us each he has won. We simply cannot let him do that. When the time comes, and you will know when that time is, you’ll have to decide which side you are on, us poor folk don’t stand a chance if we don’t organize.
This is not about who has slept with whose mother/sister/cousin/aunt/, this isn’t about who wears a blue suit or who has a sock puppet as a sidekick. It’s not about who executes a better belly to back suplex or who can jump further off the turnbuckle. This is about uniting for a cause, putting all ego’s aside and standing united. This is about the sweat off our brow and the determination of our souls. Someday you will all see that.
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Post by Alistar S. Bain on Apr 9, 2008 11:51:08 GMT -5
Alistar S. Bain - Chapter 1: Please Don't Cry! Please Don't Cry!
Bain stood, surrounded by the fallen forms of three men. They weren't bad, he had come to stop assuming that all who would hurt them were not bad people. Some misinformed, some under the influence, these three it seemed were to be well compensated for their work, and from their tattered clothes, they seemed in need of said compensation.
None the less, regardless of their reasoning, Bain would protect his friends. In what had almost become a traveling night circus, they moved from place to place, lot to lot, Finding work in the day to enjoy each others company at night. They were his family now, and he would use the strength he had to protect them.
After all, had they not done the same for him? Since his return to the homeland, he was unable to find steady work. How could one work steady, if he were unable to steady his mind? Unable to sleep, he found them during one of his many night walks. At first, he was startled, yet attracted by the fireworks they fired, and the loud music, with pulsating bass, that pulled you in, while the force pushed you back at the same time.
For the first few nights, he stayed a ways back, in cover, assessing the situation, not as a military man, but almost as a child. They danced, and played, and were happy, and somehow watching this from a distance made him happy.
Their purity did well to cleanse his mind somewhat, and soon, he slept.
Not a deep sleep, not a long sleep, but brief was ages longer than none.
Then they were gone. Bain screamed with anguish when he returned and found not a trace of them.He knew not where they went, he didn't know who they were, so how could he track them? How could he find that which made him smile?
Bain wept that night, the loss of this new thing in his life reminiscent of the loss suffered overseas. Perhaps not on the same level, but when mental scarring is so rampant, it becomes difficult to differentiate. To him, losing this night light of life was on par with the men he had watched die.
He came back to that lot every night, and wept, getting closer each time from his hiding place, to where they had lived, and entertained, and brought him peace.
On the night he finally had the courage to set foot in that place, he found but one remnant of them. A pair of leather arm warmers lie in the dirt, dusty now, and abandoned. He clutched them in his hands, dusting them off, blowing away the dirt. Bain slid the arm bands over his forearms, and felt a sudden peace. He had lost the light, but he had found a piece of them. He would find them again.
He had seen the difference between destroyed and abandoned. He knew that if they had not left this place of their own accord, there would be more of them remained at this site. They had merely traveled somewhere new, and he would find them.
And he would no longer cry, for they were not gone, they were merely, gone ahead...
VCW - Chapter 1: Welcome To The Show...Ladies & Gentlemen
Bain: So you are sure that my cheques are being sent in the fashion I requested?
??: Yes Alistar, %25 percent is being deposited into your personal living fund, the other 75% are being delivered to your family.
Bain: And who is doing the delivery? It is someone we can trust right?
??: One of my other talents is personally handling the delivery. He is not on a full time roster, so he has time, and believes your cause to be a decent one, so he has agreed to help. We can trust him.
Bain: What about protection? While I am away, they are in need of someone to keep them safe! You said you would take care of this!
??: Calm down. They are being well looked after. I will not break any of my promises with you, so long as you provide me with what was previously agreed upon. Now you've got your first match, from what I can tell your in with a pair of rookies with about as much experience as your self, which means you're not over matched right out of the gate. Remember your training, and you'll do fine. A few more trips to the Academy and you'll be ready to compete full time in no time.
Bain: I don't like the Academy. Pompous asshole, telling me what wrestling is.Telling me that the way I defend my country, and my family is wrong!
??: Quiet! The man is a genius. If you talks, you listen, and you'll go far. Now I've got to go. Stay well, and we'll talk after your match. Bye.
Bain: Good bye...
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Austin
Lower Midcarder
Posts: 172
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Post by Austin on Apr 9, 2008 19:40:35 GMT -5
Mind of a Radical pt. 1: Aftermath We fade in to a hospital room, a couple of days before VCW Live 1.2. We see a battered form of a man in the bed, obviously Chris Austin. He is not is the best of shape, and judging by his tossing, turning and whatnot, he's having a bad dream.Why did this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this, in my own hometown? Cyrus: Exodus makes the cover, the one, two, THREE! Exodus is going to the second round of the Seraphim Falls!
SoL: As of this moment, Austin looks like he’s just plain hype!No, I am not just plain hype. I am bigger than hype, I am the Radical. The ref is still raising Exodus’s arm in victory, when a stream of white noise begins to play on the arena sound system, and the arena lights begin to flicker.
Cyrus: What the... what the hell is going on?
SoL: Oh no, it’s the end of the world! God, I’m sorry I called Exodus a Jew!
: My servant... DESTROY HIM!
Cyrus: Destroy him? Who? Don’t tell me he means... Chris Austin?
SoL: Don’t disobey God, Exodus! Destroy him!
Cyrus: Will you shut up? You sound like a fucking pussy!
: DESTROY HIM!
Exodus can still be heard screaming in obedience. The noise quiets down and the lights stop flickering and turn back on. We can see Exodus getting a steel chair at ringside and start to repeatedly bash Chris Austin with the chair until he bleeds.
Cyrus: What the hell?! Chris Austin was just competing for the gold in this match! This brutal assault is totally uncalled for! Ref, stop this!
SoL: Be quiet, Cyrus, this is the will of God being carried out by Exodus!
Cyrus: I don’t believe for a minute that God would order this demon to basically kill Chris Austin!
SoL: Blasphemy!
Exodus finally busts Chris Austin’s head open. After he does, he throws away the chair, seemingly having enough of the beatdown. The ref helps Chris Austin get to his feet. Suddenly, Exodus kicks the already-standing Chris Austin, and moves behind him to execute the Forsaken Lock!
Cyrus: What the, I thought he was done!
SoL: This is the will of God!
Cyrus: He’s gonna choke him to death! He’s gonna suffocate him!
Due to the loss of blood, it doesn’t take long for Chris Austin to pass out to the hold. Exodus still doesn’t let up for a long time, but when he does, he slowly exits the ring as EMTs make their way down the entrance ramp.
Cyrus: Chris Austin may suffer permanent brain damage at the hands of this vile Exodus, and we’ve barely begun the first VCW show!Austin's heart rate increases so much so that nurses come running into room. They try to wake him, but to no avail. After a few seconds pass, Chris sits up in his bed, a look of terror on his face, he feels his head, and he winces in soreness. He looks around, but no one is there. (breathing heavily) What the hell? I gotta get out of here, I gotta leave, I gotta go somewhere, anywhere, just not be here. I must be redeemed. Later that night, Chris sneaks out. He checks into a hotel, and immeadiately attempts to lie down. However, his recent bout of headaches prevent him from sleeping.I'll crash here, until I get better. Exodus's deeds will not be unpunished, I promise that. But, only if I can get some sleep. Maybe be for the better, I haven't slept in days. This isn't working, nothing is working right now. I can't take this. I gotta go where I can think, the prostitutes doing business here, random drug deals or busts happening, I need to clear my head. Just then, his phone gets a text message. It's from "unknown", yet it concerns VCW."Ah, so you finally got out of the hospital. Nice job. Now, I know you want nothing to do with VCW right now unless it concerns Exodus, but you are needed to make an apperance at VCW 1.2. We want a update on the condition of little old Radical. Be there. They want me to show up, and flaunt Exodus' handi-work? How dare they insult me? How dare they show such utter disregard for one of their investments? HOW DARE THEY? And who the fuck has my text number? Austin sits up, restless and fuming with anger. He immediately leaves the hotel, and takes a long drive. He doesn't know where he's going, why he's going, all he knows is that he's going, and for the first time in weeks, he seems to be happy with that. Fade to Black.Mind of a Radical pt. 2: Swallowing your Pride Austin comes in to the Thomas and Mack center, obviously a bit embarassed. As he walks through the halls on his way to the interview, he hears the random snickers, the not-so subtle disrespect. He tries to fire back, but he can't. For now, everyone seems to be right but him. He finishes his "update", cuts a promo on Sick Fixx, and immediately leaves. Before he gets out of the door, Eric Ares comments towards him.Ares: Well, if it isn't "The Radical" Chris Austin. (laughs) How is our Randy Orton version 2 holding up these days? I mean, that ass-whipping Exodus handed you, I'd be leaving in a hurry as well. You're embarassing, man. Fuck You. Ares: That's exactly what your mom did, and what your sister will do. (walks away laughing) Austin drops his head, becoming one of many that have been verbally owned by Eric Ares. He leaves, and gets in his car, and takes a long drive. He knows he's going to the Grand Canyon, but he doesn't know why he's going, yet he still seems happy for the first time in weeks. Fade to Black. Mind of a Radical pt. 3: A New Beginning A fully-healed Austin stands close to the edge of the Grand Canyon, the wind tossing his newly long hair ever so gently. Austin observes his surroundings and finds himself at some level of peace. He exhales deeply, and begins to speak.Finally, I can think. I can relax, I can Radicalize the situation again. I walked into 1.1, exhuding confidence, exhuding arrogance, feeling like I'd own the place. But, all of that took a hit in one match. One Match almost took my livelihood. ONE MATCH almost derailed my Movement. Exodus not only eliminated me from VCW Heavyweight title contention, not only did he embarass me, He beat me. He, to borrow from Dunnsville, "PWNed my ass". How did it all come down to its current level? I went from a man with so much promise, so much potential, to a shell of a man, another Randy Orton. Do you realize how un-Radical that situation is? But, I have figured it all out. You know what happened at 1.1? I lost, plain and simple. Nothing more, nothing less. See, Chris Austin has emotions which fuel how he observes happenings, while the Radical just takes things as they go. Chris Austin got his ass-whipped, the Radical lost a match. Is this the end? Of course not. It's a new beginning. A new outlook. He gets a text message from the same unknown."Tag Team Chaos: Sick Fixx and Fytor vs. Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb vs. Chris Austin and iSav vs. 13 and Ribz. That's your match for this week. Good Luck" How the fuck does this "unknown" have my number? No one should know where I am, how to contact me. But at leats the shit he or she sends is important. VCW is putting me right back into the fire. I guess I can't get the singles match I thought was made at 1.2. They lost faith in the Movement of Radicality. How do you lose faith in a Movement that has yet to begin? Obviously, SoL's comments have struck a nerve with management. Then again, he's fucking retired, so as far as I am concerned, it's apparently my, Chris Austin's fault. No problem, the remedy of that begins at 1.3. Tag Team Chaos, 4 teams, only one team can win. None of the teams are legit, except for 13 and Ribz, yet they seem to think that this clusterfuck is gonna bring them something they can look into for the future. I have to team with a man similar to Exodus in iSav. He loves to give pain, he's sadistic, he's violent, hell he could possibly be a murderer. I'm sure that body bag has had occupants before. Why would management team me with him? It must be a test of character, a test of the Movement. The Movement can not be stopped when it starts, and the movement starts tonight. They could have at least teamed Captain Courage and Fytor, instead they team the wanna-be superhero with another wannabe great. Nodnarb, what makes you great, exactly? We'll see in the ring. As for you, Courage, you can't be saved from the Radical. Your trick wires won't help you at 1.3. But, I guess being a hero is worth it, right? I seem to digress, as at least management has some faith in you. Be glad for it, it can all change with One Match. But, 13 and Ribz, you two are a bit more suited for each other than the rest of us, so consider yourselves the favorites in this match. But, can you really be considered the favorites? Maybe you're in the right place at the right time. See, life is set up for me to fail. I know this, and as a result, I can't fail. At 1.1, I found a method that was unsucessful in reaching my goal. At 1.3, I begin to find myself. This brings me to Sick Fixx and Fytor. Fytor, is life really like the comics you read and imitate? Is life all fun and games? Is it everything you ever dreamed of? I doubt it. But, if you believe that, the Radical is here to give you a reality check. Japhy, you've been through it all. Addictions, Highs, Lows, Titles, the whole shebang. But, I distinctly remember you being a rather sucessful tag champ. But, as that should give you some type of advantage, didn't you desert your partner while still champs? You fell back into the life you constantly try to escape. You'll succumb again, Japhy. Sooner or Later. It's all back in the palm of my hands again. VCW, consider yourself on notice once again. You thought Exodus' beating was bad, you wait until I get my hands on him. The Movement of Radicality's first order is to make sure that he doesn't become VCW champion. I will make sure his master will not be pleased with his actions. But, that's for another time. I have Chaos to Radicalize, order to restore. Radical Truth #78: "Our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers."A new day has dawned, VCW. The day of the Radical is coming. I said I'd change the face of wrestling, and I will, one way or another. The camera begins to move away from him, but a man is seen, watching Austin from another area in the Canyon. He's ready. I am worried however, he seems to be more concerned with causing Chaos, yet maintaining order in his own world. I fear that he may become more unpredictable as he grows. He's has been unknowingly dodging us since he left the ER. Maybe he knows more than we think. This isn't good for him, he could bring us more harm than good. I'll keep tailing him as he develops. Austin exhales, and looks around the Canyon for a minute. The wind kicks up as we fade out, and we hear the faint sound of a cell phone clicking shut.
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Post by Mortus on Apr 10, 2008 6:19:54 GMT -5
“I do hope my parents know I still love them, maybe some day I’ll be able to talk to them again.”
“If my Dad was declared a Suppressive Person, no one but the Ethics Officer is allowed to talk to him.”
“I was offered a choice a few days after being born. Be a Scientologist or be put up for adoption.”
“I hardly ever saw my Mom. She would show up every few months or so, and would only visit for just a few days.”
“There is nothing more hurtful than repeatedly giving something your all and being told it’s not good enough.”
“As soon as I became old enough to start critically evaluating the morals of Scientology, I discovered Scientology was a scam.”
[/b][/color] Attention members of the Media, members of the Public, and especially members of Scientology.
Here today, with Operation Reconnect, Anonymous has shifted its focus from the illegal actions of Scientology, to the cruel and family destroying ‘Disconnection’ policy.
Children, Mothers, Fathers; none are immune to this policy. Any who speak out against Scientology’s bait-and-switch, whether publicly or within Scientology are cast out and ex-communicated. Families are torn apart, Children are sent across the world.
Those who leave are harassed into mental instability. Those who stay may never speak to their loved ones again.
Operation Reconnect aims to bring those Families, those Loved Ones, those Children, Back. To let them know that it’s ok to want to talk to your Mother again. To let them know it’s ok to tell your Children you love them.
Our goal is to reunite those who are too afraid to speak.
So today, on the twelfth of April, worldwide, Anonymous will collectively attempt to bring together former members of Scientology to speak about their experiences, to speak about their disconnection, and to reunite family members.[/center] “Hello?” “Hey honey? I… I had to call.”
[/color] “Mom, is that you?”
“I love you so much, and I’m so sorry.” [/i] [/color][/right] Fucking epic win. You know. I payed all this money to fly back home to Protest in my Home Town, and there we go.
We, Anonymous, Legion, fought the rain, fought the snow.
We Rickrolled, we Portal'ed, we ate delicious cake. We were joined by a member of the old guard; the original critics from Alt. Religion. Scientology.
We got an interview from a man who hadn't seen his Mother for eighteen years as a result of the Churches disconnection policy. It's on youtube; Reconnect; Martin Poulter interviews Disconnected Man.
Epic win was had. Plus seven internets.
However, I've got a more pressing concern right now. More pressing than the daunting fact that one slip of the mask and I'm fucked; Fair Gamed, and a possible Shawn Lonsdale.
In short; Christ is a douche.
Thus, my thought processes raced as I stared at the phone having just arrived back to Arizona. It was me and Hookton, one on one in the ring.
Quite frankly, my initial response was the whole ordeal sucked massive monkey-douche. However, it came painfully clear to me.
Chris Christ could easily make Office of Special Affairs. What he's done here is not so far off from Dead Agenting at all.
Turn too allies against each other; though normally used to break down the trust one has in a source of information, thus silencing a critic of the Cult, here Christ is trying to break down mine and Hookton's trust in each other.
We both have very similar goals;
That's why we've joined up. Though we fight for the very same people, we fight for slightly different reasons.
Hookton is a Working Class Hero. I am a self defined Hero of the Internet; a source of Free Speech.
Hookton is a Hero to me. I grew up Working Class. My Father, wherever the fuck he is, I imagine, is still Working Class. He may be fairly well off, but you know, that's what he is.
Fuck if I know. None of us have seen him since Mom died.
But on the opposite side of the coin, I'd like to think that I, in turn, am a Hero to Hookton. I represent Free Speech; an inalienable right of his, and one that only benefits his cause on the breaking the chains of the Oppression.
But none of that matters right now. Because we both want the same thing; we're both looking for the Title to end all Titles here in VCW. It will no doubt further our respective, though collaberative causes.
Of course there's an issue of personal pride in the matter; but that's so small picture. For me at least. I don't like to talk for others though I can make the educated pressumption that it holds true for my ally in arms as well.
Which is why it sucks...
My fingers dialed an all too familiar number as my mind raced further.
[/i][/center] "YO BRO!""I'm sorry, John is it? But my Master is not available at current to speak." "FUCK YOU ABDUL YOU SAND-NIGGER! TELL MATTIE TO GET HIS ACID-BURNT-BALLS ON THE FUCKING PHONE BEFORE I FLY OVER THERE AND SHOVE IT SO FAR UP HIS FUCKING ASS IT'LL GRANT MUCH MOAR PLEASURE THAN A FUCKING BLOWJOB FROM THE GREEN FAIRY HERSELF!"I heard a distinctive, eerie, disconnected voice in the background.
"Who is it Abdul?" "Your younger brother Master, Johnathon." "Give it to Us." "But..!" "WE SAID GIVE IT TO US!"
Bro was evidentally pissed off at his little monkey-author-bitch. I swear, the man's as nutty as L. CON Hubbard. [/center] "Yes, brother?" "Abdul's a douche.""We do hope you didn't call Us exclusively to insult our underling." "Nah; not at all bro. In short, I've got a problem. Our cock-nugget of a GM's hooked me up in a match against one of my stablemates. What the shit should I do about it? In before STFU.""Destroy him. He stands in the way of a titleshot for you. Do what you must." "No, because then I come across as a right cock-dribble.""You're obviously asking the wrong person then. We do not care for others over ourselves. Look at what we did to the Lion." "I always thought you did that for the Lulz."The douche hung up. Note to self - Keep 4chan-isms to 4chan.
So, still as confused, and now somewhat irritated at my cunt-lord of a Brother, I decided that perhaps my opponent would be a better man to talk to about the matter.
Isn't it funny how the simplist ideas take so long to reach you?
So here I go again, dialing a new number; which, I'm almost embarressed to say, I had to lurk pretty hard to find. I should commit my stablemates numbers to memory. But then, I do need the brain matter to register fairly useless facts about Halo 3 maps, as well as all the dox of my IRL enemy; the Church of Scientology.
Also there needs to be some space in there specificially set aside for Saging Eres. The man's so throughly irritating. A thousand Goatse's to him... [/i] "Bro?""What, no foreward-slash-mother-fucking-b-cock-ass-foreward-slash-ro?" "Fuck you man. Trying to tone that shit down for the goddamn censor. I hate those guys. Nah; I called about our match man?""I thought you might. I think I know what you're going to say. I had a similar chat with my partner earlier, actually." "Orly?""Yes. Look. I know you want the title. And I know you wouldn't let me get away with just taking a fall for you, not that I would. As I know the same can easily be applied to you." "Do go on.""So, there's only one way around this. We put on a show, fairly decide who goes on in this tourny, and who gets to rip our employer a new one next week instead." "See, here was me shitting bricks about it.""You make me laugh, why would you worry? Any other night I'll have your back. It's just tonight we've got to play to Christ's sick game to further our goals." "For graet justice!!1""Do you come with a Geek to English Lexicon by any chance?" "Fuck you."So there you have it. It didn't matter. One of us will go on to win the title, one of us will get opportunity to pwn Christ next week.
Our mysterious man in power will see to that.
Our numbers are swelling already; Catnarok is nigh.
And as my buddy Hookton would say...
If Heaven Rides Against Us, Then The Gods Be Damned.
If Mortals Stand Before Us, Then Strike Them Down With Sleight Of Hand.
For our POWER LEVEL is OVER 9000!
We are Anonymous We are Legion WE DO NOT FORGIVE WE DO NOT FORGET. [/center][/i]
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iSav
Developmental Talent
Posts: 38
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Post by iSav on Apr 11, 2008 3:53:43 GMT -5
She was pleading. They all do. They all think if they offer enough money or their silence I’ll stop. I can’t. No matter how badly I do I can’t. I’m hungry. And the hunger makes me silence their pleas and turn them to screams. Then silence. Nothing but chewing. That awful.....awful chewing sound as I tear through their flesh and the meat inside. How many times have I been forced to endure that horrific sound? How many more times? An eternity? Only if Hell was real.........or perhaps this is my hell. Maybe I did die that day. And this curse......this mask......this damn hunger is my eternal torment. Her head cracked like an egg, and grey matter mixed with shit as He pounded the two together. Her bloodshot and breast fat splashed eyes looked out below the jagged edge of her skull, but she would never see again. He then bent over and took a bite out of the bloody mess. The chewing sound began to reverberate throughout the room as he sated his hunger. He had just begun to move onto her ruined breasts when the door opened and an older man in his late-50s to early-60s wearing a suit and with his graying hair slicked back stepped in and looked at Him. He looked upon the mess and shook his head.: Sir I must insist you not make such a mess. I do have to clean this up remember? He stood up and began to lumber over to the older man who did not at all seem intimidated. Instead he actually smiled a bit.: Has it left for now Sir? Or do I need to excuse myself for a bit longer? After a moment He stopped hunching over and instead stood up straight and began to claw at the mask.iSav: Get it off me!! He finally succeeded in removing the bloody thing and throwing it at the Man’s feet as he began to remove the rest of his clothes till he was in but his birthday suit.: *Shakes head* Sir do not tease me. I have prepared fresh clothes. I know you like to be alone after your......feeding. You should know you have a Tag Scramble match though......a Clusterfuck as the “Smart Marks” call it. He simply took the clothes and began to dress himself in silence without looking back at the desecrated corpse. After putting on a black business suit he walked over to a small office and sat down at a desk. He then threw up into a bucket at the desk’s side for a bit. Lots of blood. None of it his. He continued to throw up until there was a knock at the door. : Sir may I come in? He threw up a bit more before answering his question.iSav: Y.......Yeah. Come on in Reginald. The older man entered at that and smiled at him.Reginald: You’ll be good for another week or so now Sir. Feel better? He managed a laugh. Why he let Reginald live was beyond him.iSav: You know the answer to that. I wore the fucking mask and killed someone else. But I’ll live. Whoop-De-Fucking-Doo. Reginald smiled again at this.Reginald: Well your making jokes again so I’ll assume your back to “normal” and get to cleaning up Miss Batson’s corpse. iSav hunched over and threw up some more into the bucket much to Reginald’s open disgust.Reginald: Yes well........you do have that Scramble I told you about. He then took out a piece of paper showing the 1.3 Card and showed it to him. iSav: Me and Chris Austin vs. 13 and Ribz vs. Captain Courage and The Great Nodbarb vs. Sick Fixx and Fytor. He threw the paper down on the floor with a look of disgust on his face.iSav: I don’t want to fight them. I don’t want to do this at all. They blame me for his sins you know that right? Reginald: I am well aware they believe the Legacy is all you. It did bring you to Wrestling however. And the more blood the better. It would be so simple wouldn’t it? To just grab his face and crush it. Feel it turn to mush beneath your palms. Another meal just might keep the hunger away for a bit longer. You’d like that wouldn’t you?iSav: Uhm........yes.......I suppose so. Thank you Reginald. You can go. Reginald smiled again as he turned and left Him to his thoughts. After a few silent moments punctuated by more hurling he began to hear His voice again. Legacy.Legacy: Another fun night of bashing people’s skull in then Eric? Hope your looking forward to it. I will. iSav: Why you bother to call me by my real name is a laugh. You seem to love reminding me of what you did to me that night. Legacy: Did what? Save your life? iSav: I’m a fucking monster!! Legacy: Such a crass term. The Native Americans call it the Wendigo. Such a nicer name I believe. It’s not my fault you...... iSav: I know what I did you bastard. How come your talking to me anyway? Your dead!! Legacy: Ohhhh Mr. Williams.....isn’t that true for yourself as well. He gritted his teeth at that. He was telling the truth whether he wanted to admit it or not.iSav: Go to hell. Legacy: I already have. Not exactly the best place. Plenty of meat though. iSav: Why did you enjoy it so much?!? Legacy: Ohh I was like you at first. So angry at being chosen. But then I discovered that the meat is actually quite tasty. You’ll find out soon enough. iSav: When pigs fly out of a corpse’s ass. Legacy: Hmmm Miss Batson’s perhaps? The voice began to fade away at that one leaving iSav to throwing up again. It was only sometime later he felt ready to do another damn tape. One of the ones he did as the monster. He didn’t bother to put on the mask. It wasn’t cleaned of Mary’s blood. iSav: The Documents of Death Volume 1.3. My match this week concerns partnering with The Radical Chris Austin against three other teams. The first being Ribz and 13. They are familiar with each other and they believe that gives them an advantage. It shall be useless when I plow through them both and make them choke on their own blood. He stopped so He could think about the next team.iSav: Next team is Fytor and Sick Fixx. My knowledge of both is sketchy though I know Fixx was a tag champ in his day. Along with a drug addiction. I do not believe he will be able to bring up a good enough defense against me. Fytor is another fool who believes himself a Superhero. Heh. Let’s see how Super his taste is. And then there is the final team. First is the Great Nodbarb. I do not care at all for him and if he’ll stay out of my way I might let him keep his life. He paused again. Another gathering of thoughts.iSav: Then there is Captain Courage. He first made the mistake of crossing me that first week when he dared pin me. Then he and Nodbarb got into my way the next week. And he dared say I have a debt to pay to him. He should have stayed out of my way. But he interfered with my goal of taking the VCW Title and using it to cull the blood of the Roster. He is the one who has a Debt to me. And I take payment in blood. He turned the tape recorder off and threw it in his desk. He did not want to fight these men. He did not want to be a Wrestler. But he didn’t want to do what he did to Miss Batson. What..........what if Legacy is right.......and I am beginning to enjoy all this?May God Have Mercy On My Soul if so.
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Post by kennithnoisewater on Apr 15, 2008 2:50:28 GMT -5
The all too familiar generic Evening News music plays as the camera fades in showing one man. Ron: Good evening San Diego, I’m Ron Kingston and here’s what’s happening in your city, today.The Olympic torch has been rerouted for its United States relay in an attempt to stop angry protesters from extinguishing the flame. This attempt has been met with much backlash and criticism by hopeful onlookers. One man said (southern accent) “ Ah been heyer since five clock iyan the mornin to see thayat big fiyery…torch thang. But than theyer was no torch.”Ron: Beautiful country we live in. When asked why there was a fire extinguisher in hand the man replied. “Well I… uhm.” Smart words, from a smart man. In other news the continuous rain storms that have swept through southern and northern California has delayed the running of the torch which now makes everything that was previously said utterly and ridiculously unnecessary. We’ll be right back after these commercial with another installment of the hit mini documentary entitled…Behind the Curtain: Professional Wrestling’s Dark Secrets We now return from the commercial break where Ron Kingston sits not knowing that we are back live. Ron: This is some good scotch. Refreshing, and smooth. Speaking of smooth Samantha, I see you’ve got yourself a new mini skirt. It is very revealing.Offstage whispering: Ron, we’re back from commercial. You’re on right now.Ron: W…what?Voice: You’re on.Ron: Right now, I’m on right now?Voice: YesRon: HA! You go to hell you dirty lia…Welcome back to the 6 o’clock news, I’m Ron Kingston. Now here with me via satellite is surprisingly still alive Kenneth Noisewater. Ken, how are things going?Ken: Well Ron, things are going very smoothly right now as you will see in the video. Right now I am preparing for my next match up which…quite frankly I’m very nervous about. You see I am in a tournament to crown the first ever VCW Heavyweight champion, and I won the first round match, had a bye in the second round and now I go into the third round facing a man who is by far the scariest person I’ve ever seen in my life. His name is Exodus.Ron: That is intriguing and all but we are running short on time so lets just go to the video.The intro begins as a highlight package from Kens first match shows while “You’re The Best” by Joe Esposito plays over it . Behind the Curtain: Professional Wrestling’s Dark Secrets Pt. 2The camera fades in just as “Magnum” aka Kenneth Noisewater walks through the curtain after his very first and the very first match in VCW history. He begins to speak while trying to catch his breath. Hello again everyone, welcome back. As you can see I’ve just come back to the locker room. I’m talking quietly because this has to be very discreet. Anyways let me break everything down for you. I just got done wrestling my first match which, surprisingly enough I won. And let me tell you, nothing beats going out there and hearing the roars of 18,000 people. It was insane. I won by count out, which is kind of a cheap way to win but hey, it works so I’m still alive in the heavyweight championship tournament, and other than a few bumps and bruises I’m in pretty decent…ahh…condition after my match. That is actually another surprise because as much as people say wrestling is fake…let me tell you they are dead wrong. These guys were literally trying to kill me out there. I’m just lucky that most of them are dumb as rocks or I surely would have died.Now that you are caught up with life inside the ring, I can get to the real reason I’m here. Controversy is a word spoken far too often, especially in this business. But wrestling and controversy go hand in hand. From the outside, the stars of VCW seem completely legit, but I am beginning to narrow down a list of VCW superstars who I will call my primary suspects. My reasons for doing this are simple. I want to make true what everybody in the world already suspects. Professional wrestlers are nothing but a bunch of filthy, pill popping, steroid plunging criminals. My three main targets so far are Colt Conrad, Deacon King for obvious reasons, and Eric Ares. Each of these three men lead very different style lives. One is a man child, one a rockstar, and one is a self serving, egomaniacal, conceded, arrogant, belligerent fool who’s sole purpose in life is to belittle those around him for his own amusement, the typical immature high school bully. Each of these men lead very intriguing public lives, but what goes on after the door of the hotel room is closed? That’s what I’m here to figure out, and in the coming weeks I will continue to further my investigation as I search to find out more about these men, grow close to them, and once I reveal them as what I know they are… that’s when they will be thrown in jail. For now though, I need a drink, and a shower.The camera fades out as we see Kenneth struggle out of his chair to his feet. The scene fades back in in the passenger seat of Kenneth Noisewater’s car as he drives down the road. Right now I’m on my way to Las Vegas to the campus of UNLV. That’s right, here at VCW if your name isn’t Craig Christ you have to find your own way to get to the next show. See, Craig is the owner of this fine establishment, and he hasn’t found the need to invest in things like transportation, or hotel rooms for any of the talent except of course for himself. Well, now that I’m done venting let me get down to business. As I said before I’m on my way to UNLV for VCW live 1.2. Luckily for me, I will not be in a wrestling match. Instead I will be going down to ringside during the first match for some guest commentary. From time to time, when the creative team wants to move a storyline along further, they will have one participant in the storyline come down to ringside and give his opinions. I however in a little bit over my head for this one. As you saw last time… I’m not very good on the spot, so I might have to stop by the director for some advise as to what I need to accomplish out there.The scene shifts to the backstage area of the arena where VCW Live 1.2 is taking place. We see Kenneth standing, reading a sheet of paper. He looks around for a moment to make sure no one is around to see him talk to the camera. I was just handed this sheet of paper. This is called a card, it shows all the matches and segments that are going to take place on tonight’s show. Everyone is handed a few hours before the show begins so that everyone knows their place, and so everything runs smoothly. In my case, I’m just hoping I don’t make a fool out of myself on live TV. Another interesting side note, I face the winner of the match that I’m commentating. It is between Exodus and Deacon King. Honestly, I’m pulling for Deacon King, I am really just…afraid of Exodus, I’m not going to lie… that… whatever it is makes me want to cry. Director: Hey there, I see you’re practicing in front of the camera.Ken: … Yeah…practicing.Director: So, you know what you’re going to be doing out there?Ken: Uhm… Director: Alright, here’s how it’s going to go. You’re gonna go out there, Let the announcers do most of the talking. Maybe argue with SoL a little bit. Make sure you’re playing the good guy role, and…try not to mess things up. Got it?Ken: Yeah… I got it.The sound turns down and the screen shows Ken continuing to talk things over with the director. Kenneth’s voice over kicks in. I didn’t really have it. I just didn’t feel like looking any worse than I had the previous week. Really, I didn’t know what to expect when I went out there that night, but much to my surprise things went very smoothly… other than the fact that my worse nightmare came true and Exodus won, but I’ll touch more on that later on. The announcers were very easy to communicate with, and it also helped to have a guy talking into my headset telling me things to say the whole time. The camera eventually fades to black. The camera fades back in as we see nothing but mountains, and coal. The camera turns around as we see Kenneth Noisewater again, in the drivers seat of his car. I bet you’re wondering where we are right now, quite frankly so am I. I was doing some research about the three men I named earlier and I decided that I would start my investigation with none other than Colt Conrad. Colt has been in the spotlight for many years now, most of which he was a professional boxer. It is well documented that Colt was forced into retirement after officials on the boxing commission refused to grant Colt a boxing license after multiple concussions left his brain to nothing short of a pile of mush. Which brings me here. West Virginia, the home of Colt’s father West Conrad. West was formerly a coal miner until Colt earned enough money to make sure his father never had to work again. Things than inexplicably went sour in their relationship. After learning this I decided to track West down to try and figure out a little more about Colt Conrad.A highlight package then airs showing Colt Conrad in some of the most memorable moments of his career. The package ends with Colt holding the WBC Heavyweight championship in hand and hugging his father. The scene then changes back as we see Kenneth Noisewater stepping up to the door of Colt’s father West. Kenneth knocks, the door cracks open. West: Who’s there?Ken: Hi, I’m Kenneth Noisewater here from San Diego. I’m a news reporter and I’m doing a special report on your son Colt. I just want to ask you a few questions.West: Get out of here! I don’t want no goddamn reporters on my property. I don’t do interviews.West then slams the door shut and Kenneth faces the camera. Ken: Alright Steve, put down the camera. I’ll get this guy to talk.The camera then turns down to the ground and Ken knocks on the door once more. West answers again. West: I thought I told you to…Ken: Listen, I drove here a long way for this interview. Now I’m willing to offer you a little…incentive.West: Go on.The camera fades out just before Ken starts talking again. We come back inside West Conrad’s house. West is sitting in one chair, Ken in one across from him. Your typical interview. Ken: Tell me a little bit about Colt growing up.West: Well, Colt has always been a very talented person. I remember when he was 8 years old playing football with the 12 and 13 year olds. He was always so much bigger than other kids his size. He was just a pure athlete.Ken: I bet you must have been proud of him.West: Proud doesn’t even come close to describing how I felt every time I watched him go out there.Ken: So you and Colt were close yes?West: We did everything together. There aren’t very many people who live around these parts, so I was Colt’s best friend for a long time. Then when he started boxing, he’d be out on the road a lot more, and we started to just drift apart.Ken: It had to be tough going from seeing him every day to maybe once a year.West: It was really hard, especially after he met that gold digging jezebel. She’s the reason I don’t speak to my son anymore.Ken: Would you care to further elaborate on that?West: Well, as you know Colt suffered some brain damage because of his boxing. When that happened I wanted to bring him back home, and take care of him. But that woman, and that midget have Colt wrapped around their fingers. He does, and believe whatever they say. Long story short, they told him that I said some very disrespectful, and very untrue things about him. And now he won’t come near me, and they make him wrestle so that their pockets can get fatter. And there isn’t a damn thing that him, or I can do about it. Hopefully one day my son will see the light. And maybe I can have my boy back.Ken: Really… The camera fades out on West Conrad as he begins to softly weep. We come in again to Kenneth Noisewater in the drivers seat of his car. A voice over begins. I had heard enough from Colt Conrad’s father. I now had a little insight to what I’m pretty sure is illegal activities. Colt’s manager and his wife control him, and force him to fight to better themselves. Sounds pretty illegal to me, but I’m going to sit back and let the hot water boil over on that one for a bit until I get some more information. As for now, I have problems of my own that I need to tend to. His name is Exodus. Not a whole lot is known about this man except for that he is strong, he is smart, and he scares the living hell out of me.A video package highlighting Exodus begins to play Exodus can still be heard screaming in obedience. The noise quiets down and the lights stop flickering and turn back on. We can see Exodus getting a steel chair at ringside and start to repeatedly bash Chris Austin with the chair until he bleeds.
Cyrus: What the hell?! Chris Austin was just competing for the gold in this match! This brutal assault is totally uncalled for! Ref, stop this!
SoL: Be quiet, Cyrus, this is the will of God being carried out by Exodus!
Cyrus: I don’t believe for a minute that God would order this demon to basically kill Chris Austin!
SoL: Blasphemy!
Exodus finally busts Chris Austin’s head open. After he does, he throws away the chair, seemingly having enough of the beatdown. The ref helps Chris Austin get to his feet.
Cyrus: Thank God he’s done!
SoL: You dare speak God’s name after you just blasphemed?
Cyrus: Shut up! If White Falcon did that to you, you’d be saying the same thing!
Suddenly, Exodus kicks the already-standing Chris Austin, and moves behind him to execute the Forsaken Lock!
Cyrus: What the, I thought he was done!
SoL: This is the will of God!
Cyrus: He’s gonna choke him to death! He’s gonna suffocate him!
Due to the loss of blood, it doesn’t take long for Chris Austin to pass out to the hold. Exodus still doesn’t let up for a long time, but when he does, he slowly exits the ring as EMTs make their way down the entrance ramp.
Cyrus: Chris Austin may suffer permanent brain damage at the hands of this vile Exodus, and we’ve barely begun the first VCW show!The scene switches to Kenneth Noisewater in his locker room sitting. Exodus, from what I’ve seen. Is a very powerful, very smart, very mean individual. While “trash-talking” with him just a few short weeks ago, he mentioned that he had been around for millions of years, he mentioned that he was invincible, and he mentioned that he answeres only to his “master”. Now, normally I wouldn’t believe such ridiculous crap coming from a “characters” mouth, but there was something all too real about him. I don’t know if it was his swagger, or the way he spoke of significant events in history that he claims to be a part of. Whatever it is, it struck a chord in me. There is just something about him that makes me uneasy. It could be his outfit, or it could be the fact that whatever his “master” tells him, he does. For example Chris Austin, he’d never met the guy before, but his “master” told him to pull the trigger and… well… you saw the tape. Think about it, he had never spoken to Chris Austin before in his life. Think of what he’s going to do to me when I’ve actually confronted him before. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last, but while I’m here, I might as well fight to stay alive. That’s exactly what I’ll have to do. Right now, I have to change in to my ring gear, and then… I have to go try and cut another promo.Kenneth closes the door on the camera man and the camera fades to black. We come back again with Kenneth standing beside the director, getting ready for another attempt at cutting a promo. Director: Alright Magnum, you’re up kid. Ken: Hey, I think I’ll do better this time.Director: Just stand on your mark ok?Ken: Right here?Director: Yeah, right there. Ken: OkDirector: You ready?Ken: YesDirector: Action!“Magnum” stands with his back facing the camera and his arms outstretched. Breathing heavily “Magnum” begins to speak. Eeeexoduuuus, the gods rain down the power onto me, the likes of which have never been seen before. I know you’re curious about it, and you might even be a little bit frightened, but when the moons of the four worlds align you will know that I AM THE WARRIOR!!!Director: STOP! STOP! CUT! What in the blue hell was that?Ken: It was uhm… I was… Ultimate… Warrior.Director: Kid, you can’t just have a promo like you did last time, and the do something… fucking weird like you just did. In fact... don't ever do that again. It was... ridiculous. You have to stay in character. Wouldn’t it be weird if you saw Hulk Hogan doing one of his promos and then next week see him doing something…well… like that?Ken: I…guess… yeah?Director: Look, just get in front of the camera, and say what is on your mind. That’s all you have to do. Now for the love of god, go stand on your mark.Ken: AlrightDirector: One more time in three, two, one… action!Ken: … Seraphim Falls tournament, round 3. There’s a lot of people out there saying that I got lucky, that I got a cheap win, that I don’t deserve to be here. But tonight is the night that I prove all the doubters… wrong. Tonight, it’s David vs. Goliath, kill or be killed. Head back to UNLV they’ll tell you that the odds are stacked against me, they’ll tell you that I don’t have a chance, they’ll tell you that I might die. And I’m here to tell you that you may be right. Because the only way that my shoulders will be on the canvas for three seconds is if Exodus kills me. Exodus I saw what you did to Chris Austin, I saw the way you handled Deacon King, and if you think for one second that it scares me then think again. I’m here to right all the wrongs that you’ve caused, to chop down the cherry tree, to slay the dragon, and to cross over the rainbow to find the pot of gold that is theVCW… Heavyweight…Championship. And Exodus, I will not quit… until those words, become reality.The camera fades to black and the newscast goes to commercial
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Exodus
Lower Midcarder
A mystery wrapped within an enigma
Posts: 112
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Post by Exodus on Apr 15, 2008 14:37:34 GMT -5
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I hide my face, I hide from the world, I hide everything from everyone.
For what? What am I doing, Why am I doing this? What does this all mean?
What does this all mean?
What does this all mean?
WHY?
"Why?" Why would I say "Why"?
Who cares? Should I care?
Sadness.
Fear.
Loathing.
I loathe myself. I loathe you all.
I love you all?
I cry at night, my soul is pained by everything I say, everything I do. My whole life is a gruesome lie.
Or is just less of the truth?
They say there is always a little fact in all good fiction, a little truth in every good lie. That is why we study the greatest works of fiction in order to learn about the past and about the author who creates them.
So what will people gain from my work, my life accomplishments? Will they think I am a devil, a fool, a monster? Will they despise me?
Should they despise me?
Or will they think I am the most brilliant mastermind in all times?
This was supposed to be the ultimate con, the ultimate trick to be played. I was going to fool the world as my enemies jeered and my allies cheered.
BUT I CAN’T DO IT!
I CAN’T DO IT!
CAN’T DO IT!
DO IT!
IT!
What is it?
Faith No More asked the same thing; they asked in their classic song “Epic” that immortal question and got no answer, no reply from the world. Can anyone answer such a vague question?
My whole life ends up as a series of vague questions, a world full of nothingness; undefined as a whole.
Which brings me back to the question, why do I hide?
Am I hiding from all you, your judging eyes?
Am I hiding from some enemy, some monster who must destroy me? I do have lots of enemies...
Or am I hiding from myself because I know in my heart that what I do is wrong?
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry Chris Austin, I’m sorry for nearly ending your career before it could ever get off the ground. You have such a promising future here…and elsewhere.
I’m sorry Hannibal Frost for removing you from the tournament before you had a chance to ever truly prove yourself.
Wait…
Did I just call Deacon King by the name of Hannibal Frost?
Why does reality seem to blur, the whole world look so much alike?
Why does Eric Ares remind of Bryan Risk, who reminds me of Alex O’Rion?
Why do I look at Craig Christ and think of Ken Ryans?
Why does Thomas Hookton slap me like only Harlequin could?
What is a "Slegna" and why does it make me think of Andrew Carpenter?
Am I insane?
Am I delusional?
Or is reality simply not what it seems?
Reality is such a bitch, such an utter bastard. Nothing is real, nothing is false. Everything just…
It just is.
Everything we touch, everything we feel; it dies because it is not real. We are all that is real in this world.
Or are we even real?
I’m real. I think I’m real. I feel like I am real. I feel like I am something.
But then I feel like I am nothing, nothing at all. Which is true?
What is true?
Pain.
I hurt everyday, I hurt because of the monster I have become; the monster I have birthed from the depths of my hell. Exodus is not real, I am not real, Craig Christ is not real, Vendetta Championship Wrestling is not real.
Or it is all that is real.
Why the contradictions, why the confusion?
NOTHING!
Vendetta.
Vendetta is a word that bounces around all the time in these circles, everyone holds a grudge in life against someone; everyone has a monster they oppose because they fit your own personal definition of evil.
Evil, such an abstract term. What is evil? What is good? You could define them by archaic terms but really, what does that accomplish in this modern world?
Nothing, nothing like we all are sometime or another.
Is someone evil simply because the value different things then us, because they are a different person with different interests then I?
Or are they evil because they will not accept all possible paths to salvation, all ideas from around the world?
Am I evil?
Sometimes I think I am, sometimes I shed tears because I feel like I must be such a monster; I feel like such a devil in angel’s clothing.
Thus I am Exodus.
I am the enigma, the monster hidden within. Exodus is a beast, a devil, a fallen angel. He is the portion we all hold within us.
Exodus is a part of God because we all want to be part of God. Wanting God to care for us is a fundamental part of the Abrahamic religions, hence we call Him Father. A Father loves His children like no one could ever love someone and that is the kind of love we as people all want.
It’s sickening how easy the world panders to us, isn’t it?
It pains me every time I sit down to craft these tales about this fallen angel, this piece of God that He denies.
Yet I feel somewhere in my heart I am telling the truth, that scares me the most.
My soul aches as I write, as I plan these tales which may be coming from the deepest caves in my mind; from the darkest valley filled with the most evil secrets.
What is a secret?
A secret is a truth we try to hide from even ourselves, the dreaded beast of knowledge that urges to escape from the cage we have sentenced it to suffer in.
I have a secret, don’t you?
Do you want to know it?
Do you?
Of course you do, all people want to hear secrets. We spend our lives working to hear as many secrets as possible. It validates our existence.
I hate secrets yet my life is composed of them.
It burns.
People are so amazingly worthless, we scratch and tear at the world simply to laugh when it dies.
We destroy the world just to live on it and use it like a pimp uses his prostitute.
I hate me.
I love me.
Do I even care at all about me?
Why should I?
Fucking hell, what does the world even mean!?
What does any of it mean?
We all live to die, we die to live. The curtain raises itself to only fall back down.
Curtains.
The curtain signifies we are all actors in a deep and meaningful play, we all have our parts to perform then the curtain falls.
The curtain falls and we die.
Do any of us really die or do we transcend to a further state?
What does that state hold?
Why should we go there? Do I want to go there? I like it here.
I hate it here.
You hate me here.
I’m so confused yet have never been thinking clearer.
Clouds cover the sky to prevent us from seeing the light.
I hide my face behind the mask not because I want to protect my identity from the world; I could care less what the world thinks of me.
I hide my face to protect myself from myself, to protect myself from the actions I commit. This way I can hide from the actions I commit as this devil by disassociating myself from it.
I am a devil because I deny the sins I commit.
Help me…
Help me…
Help me…
Who can help me?
Can I help me?
Can you help me?
Would you help me?
Why would you help me?
What have I ever done for you?
Bastards, always wanting something in return for good deeds.
What could I ever possibly give them in return for killing me slowly?
And I’m the devil according to them. Ha, the irony is so delightfully delicious.
Hypocritical bastards, hating people for nothing and holding everything in their slimy palms.
Fucking irony, all it ever does is rip us apart with elitism and hypocrisy.
DAMMIT!
FUCKING DAMMIT!
Maybe it’s time for me to fade away, to give it all up.
Maybe it’s time for a new blood to rising.
Or maybe it’s time for the Master to fade away, for Exodus to unmask, for everything new to become old and everything old to become new again.
Will they know it is coming?
Will they still fear me?
Do I still have it in me?
Does it even matter?
I have hidden from the truth for too long, it is time for the light to shine through and illuminate the world.
I ramble, I speak coherently. I cheer, I jeer. I love, I hate. I hurt, I heal.
I live.
I hid beneath the mask of hypocrisy like so many others in this business, like men such as Magnum…Kennneth Noisewater…Travis McCart!? Hiding from the truth, hiding from the world.
Noisewater hides because he fears the world Magnum lives in, he fears the world Travis McCart lives in.
WHO IS TRAVIS MCCART!? WHY DO I THINK HE IS A SHOWSTOPPER?
I just want to hide.
Where could I hide? Would you help me hide?
I am afraid of what I might find if I hide and go seek.
I do not fear those who hide, I embrace them; I love them.
I illuminate them.
The mask I hide beneath is no different then the mask you have all put on your faces, the mask you have called your own at some point or another. We all have sin hidden away and we all are monsters of our own creation.
I can no longer deny the Father, Creator of Heaven and Earth. At the same time I cannot hide behind Him to motivate me and those around me.
I no longer crave the blessings, I just want the blood.
Blood.
Do I bleed when I fall because I am supposed to bleed biologically or do I bleed because it is what I expect to happen?
Is the world created simply by my expectations? Or do natural laws apply?
What is the law? Is the law right? Is the law justice?
Justice is dead, the darkness killed it when it took away her impartiality.
Justice is no longer blind, the devil gave her sight.
Devils.
Damn devils.
Dastardly fucking devils.
The devil hides within us all.
And I can free him with my light, with my truth.
I know the truth, I know the world.
Crash and burn, slash and burn. Then rinse, then repeat.
The world works in cycles.
Nothingness is becoming something.
Everything is becoming nothing.
And I shall stand tall.
I shall be the one.
In order to become a man again, in order to save myself and the world…
I must kill what I have created.
Goodbye.
And then I finally say hello…
Hello?
-The Ramblings of a Mad Man
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Post by Ro on Apr 16, 2008 2:02:22 GMT -5
There’s a little black spot on the sun today [/i] Good morning. To me. It’s the same old thing as yesterday [/i] And for the 21,742nd time, this fucking headache is the first to greet me back. There’s a black hat caught in a high tree top [/i] Where’s that bottle? Ah, there it is. Dammit. Fuck! Knocked it to the damn floor. There’s a flag-pole rag and the wind won’t stop [/i] God… one pill left. Fuck… that’s not gonna take this away. I have stood here before inside the pouring rain I take it anyway. I’m like a fucking beggar here, have to take what I can. But I know there’s some more. With the world turning circles, running ‘round my brain If I get on my feet, it’s only gonna get worse. But there isn’t any way to get to the medicine cabinet if I don’t stand; a wheelchair’s only gonna make me look gay. I guess I’m always hoping that you’ll end this reign There, I knew there was more. But that’s not gonna last me ‘til the end of the day. I know it’s gonna come back in a few hours. That’s just how it is. But it’s my destiny to be the king of pain.
***** I’d felt fine that morning in Athens. The sun was shining bright in the Mediterranean, and it wasn’t that hot out even though it was an August day. I had made my way to the finals without a hitch, though that one guy from Team China tried to accuse me of cheating. Luckily the ref believed my side of the story and his Chinese bitching cost their team a medal. And now the last match of the competition is, unsurprisingly, against Russia. Damn Soviets. I’d felt fine when I woke up. I’d felt fine when I took my shower. I’d felt fine riding the bus on the way to the Olympic Stadium. But like a skilled hunter waiting in the shadows before he pulls the trigger, it got me at the most crucial moment. I already had my singlet on and I was putting my shoes. For some odd reason, I was having trouble shooting my foot into the gaping hole. There was some strange, dull vibration in my head disorienting me somehow. I thought nothing of it and finally won the battle versus my shoe. Then I stood up. And I immediately thought that that wasn’t such a good idea. A sharp, throbbing pain shot up my spinal cord, through my medulla oblongata, and to my brain, eventually enveloping my skull, my head. Apparently it showed on my face as my coach noticed something wrong and offered me an Advil. An Advil? Well, I didn’t have much choice... I took the damned pill, and waited. It was supposed to be quick-relief. Fifteen minutes passed, the first match of the morning was done and Team USA barely scraped the win, and I only felt the pain in my head go down an iota. A single iota. How’d I even feel that? I must have deduced but I knew that somehow it subsided a little bit. My coach asked me if I was okay. Ever the consummate professional, I said yes. I gave myself medical clearance to compete later. Back then I didn’t think it was a mistake, because I had to do what I had to do, and I knew I could still do it. Up to now, I don’t think that going out there despite the fire burning in my skull wasn’t the wrong course of action. My doctors, however, thought differently. ***** ”Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for the finals of the 96-kg division Freestyle event. Representing Russia, we have Khadjimourat Gatsalov, and representing the United States, we have Romeo McCoy.”It was reduced to a steady, rhythmic throb. The pain was significant, but not as strong as it was when it first attacked. My vision was slightly blurring at this point, but as I stepped onto the mat and shook the Russian guy’s hand, I knew I could still take it. Figuring that it should be better left over very quickly, I was on the aggressive. Bad move, in hindsight, but the alien pain in my head was just asking to be dealt with. I started the match with a fireman’s carry and slammed him. Point for me. But with that slam and effort, I felt the pain magnify just for a small moment before going back to its previous intensity. Hell, that’s how it’s gonna play with me, huh? I’ll live. Apparently not. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t counter, I couldn’t reverse. I could barely struggle against his holds; if I struggle, the pain intensified, but if I stayed locked in, well, the pain would intensify either way too. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. And even though I tried my best to fight, somewhere in the middle of the whole match, I blacked out. I must’ve not been able to handle both the severe pain in my head and the attacks of my opponent. Technically, I forfeited that match. I didn’t win a silver. Not even a single bronze. ***** Not one of those four-eyes in their lab coats could figure out what was going on. Endless amounts of MRIs, x-rays, CAT scans, hell, even a few lumbar punctures couldn’t tell any one of us just what the fuck is inhabiting my skull and setting it on fire. That left us no choice but to go to Dr. House. I’m betting my case didn’t interest him in the slightest bit, but he was probably coerced to do it. He thought it was just a bad case of the cluster headaches, like that teenage asshole who was good at chess. But it wasn’t. And that stumped him. By God, it was the first thing to ever stump him ever since that old lady with Erdheim-Chester disease. House insisted on keeping me in the hospital for as long as it took while he was trying to solve it. But I couldn’t; every day I spent in that hospital bed, I grew bored. I wanted to wrestle. I couldn’t live, holed up in some sterilized nuthouse, even though I respected House a whole lot. It took a lot of convincing, but finally I managed to get him to give me a prescription for Vicodin, same ones he pops like M&Ms for his bad leg. One thing was for sure, though, if I’m about to be hooked to painkillers (and I saw myself going no other direction), then FILA is never going to let me compete on an amateur level. Again. So, I thought, I might as well pull a Kurt Angle and go to the bastard brother of amateur wrestling. Hell, with these painkillers, I could definitely just wing it. ***** I forget where exactly I saw it or read about it, but I had heard it through the grapevine one way or another about Vendetta Championship Wrestling. I figured, what better way to rebuild a career than up. After the Olympics, I made no press statements other than the fact that I was quitting amateur wrestling. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise after the fact that I blacked out at the finals, but there were still shockwaves. I didn’t deal with that. I didn’t let the media know about the pain in my head. And I certainly didn’t let them know about my plans for pro wrestling. I figured, I’d let my time in pro wrestling tell the world what I was up to. So I went to VCW and immediately they recognized me. Funny, I didn’t think many people kept tabs on amateur wrestling. Either way, I was guaranteed a contract from the onset of things. Finally, I could wrestle again. My learning curve was cut out for me and my amateur wrestling reputation basically guaranteed skipping the indies. But opening night comes and what do I find? I’m not on the fucking card. What, I thought, I wouldn’t get to wrestle yet? I had to find the guy responsible for this utter travesty and all of the signs pointed in the direction of that asshole Craig Christ. He was in charge of overseeing the whole thing and the idiot didn’t give me a match. I went to him and aired out my grievances. ”Look at this card, Craig, just look at it!”
“I can read, Juliet, I’m just not sure about you though, I’m not gonna read it for you!”What an asshole. ”I’M NOT ON THE SHOW!”
"...So? Other wrestlers consider that a privilege.”He doesn’t get it. I’m not other wrestlers. ”I signed up for your stupid fed to compete, not to be a benchwarmer!”
“Well, you see, Juliet, I just got wind that that you have a serious addiction problem to painkillers. Is this true?”[/i] Yeah, so? Do I look stoned to him? ”It’s true, but you don’t see me stoned, do you?”
“We don’t have a Wellness Policy yet, Juliet, but you’re here already breaking it!”Yeah? I bet my job you’re gonna pop a few HGH when I walk out that door. ”The pills help me WORK. The pills enable me to wrestle. You give me a damn match or I’ll give you a reason to become addicted to painkillers yourself!”
“No, Juliet, I don’t see a reason to book a pill-popping floozie like you!”That was it. I just snapped. I may be popping pills but I’m no floozie. Next thing I knew, I went on a tirade that should have broken him down. About how if he booked me, I’ll be so hot that he would have a hard time beating me for the title. And most of all, I did the ultimate childish move: I told him I was going to tattle. I don’t know what exactly compelled me to say that; I think the pain was worsening again. I did have to take a couple Vicodin before I walked out. ***** I waited for 1.2 with bated breath. I was thinking, will he fall to my “I’m-telling” bluff and finally book me? Anxiety got the better of me as I just had to barge into his office and have to demand it from him once again. What happened then just made me more pissed off. He gives six other stiffs matches and leaves me out of the card ONCE AGAIN. What’s worse, he turns a retard on me with truly classic and villainous manipulation. Fortunately, I too know how to play that game and I will use it on him. But it doesn’t matter now. Right then and there in his office, I knew that I needed to make my own match. So I went out there after Exodus versus Deacon King and just chaired the shit out of that masked idiot. I knew he was gonna give me the grudge match. It would’ve been too good to pass up, especially if he’s assuming that Exodus would make quick work of me. He had Ahriman sucker-punch me though, that dick. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted but I got the match. I also had to even the odds out by taking a pipe to Ahriman’s skull, but that’s when he sicked Conrad on me. Turnabout really was fair play. And in what I could only describe a personal little dream come true, he puts himself in the match. This is only going to get better once I convince Conrad that Craig was the one who really called him dumb. ***** I still go on, right now floating about without much of a purpose. I don’t know how you could find the cure to an illness by taking up sports entertainment. Every night I sleep and every morning the pain wakes me up. I’ve gotten used to the cycle; it just gives me more tolerance and that could only be a good thing. But I figured, I can go on one step at a time, and eventually I’ll reach the end of the road. Because it’s either I die from this pain or I fix it. How I’m gonna do the latter, I have no idea yet, but I’ll figure it out along the way. And now, it just so happens that going through Craig Christ is the first step. Watch me. I’m gonna win. Literally and figuratively. I’ve stood here before Inside the pouring rain With the world turning circles, Running ‘round my brain. I guess I’m always hoping that you’ll end this reign, But it’s my destiny To be the king of pain. [/color]
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Cain Ravid
Lower Midcarder
"Not so; if anyone kills Cain, he will suffer vengeance seven times over."
Posts: 106
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Post by Cain Ravid on Apr 16, 2008 2:44:02 GMT -5
Moments after defeating Sam & Max Cain hesitated as he stood outside the office of VCW general manager, Craig Christ. He unfolded the small piece of paper in his hand and read the words one more time.You are hereby summoned to the office of Vendetta Championship Wrestling General Manager, Craig Christ, immediately following your match at VCW 1.2. Bring nothing and be prompt. Tardiness will not be tolerated. He had found the note taped to his locker after his victory over the two headed sideshow, Sam & Max. He knocked on the door and the voice of Craig Christ called from inside.Christ: Come in! Cain turned the brass doorknob and stepped into the office.Christ: Cain, come in. Shut the door. Cain did as he was told and shut the door behind him. Craig was seated behind a large dark oak desk that was littered with various piece of paper. Craig held his hand out to the chair in front of the desk.Christ: Have a seat. This won’t take long. Cain sat. Craig leaned back in his padded leather chair, held his hands in front of his face, and slowly tapped his fingertips together.Christ: You’re boring Cain, I just don’t know how else to say it. The crowd isn’t reacting to you and in this business, it’s all about crowd satisfaction. Sure, you go out there and win your matches but the long lines at the restrooms simply tell me that people just don’t give a shit about you. Cain just continued to stare at him blankly.Christ: See, just like now. No fuckin emotion! Look around Cain; the popular guys are the ones with pizzazz! They’re the ones that sell the t-shirts, they’re the ones that get the women, and most fucking importantly they are the ones that put asses in seats and money in MY fuckin pocket. Look at Eric Ares for example! You should strive to be like him! Great wrestler, great performer, surrounded by women, and most importantly a cash fuckin’ cow for this company. He’s got star written all over him! You know what you've got written all over you? Christ paused expecting an answer from Cain but, all he got was another expressionless stare from behind dark hair. Christ: I can see we are going to have a little problem here. Finally Cain spoke.Cain: No problem. You just leave me alone and let me do what the fuck I gotta do, and we’ll be right as rain. Christ: Well that would be fine and dandy if I was running a funeral parlor, hell you’d be my main attraction, but I’m running a fuckin professional wrestling business and right now, YOU are bad for business. Nevertheless, I’m not giving up on you Cain. If there’s one thing I’m great at, it’s creating talent. And the first step of your transformation into the superstar I want you to be, is for you to get yourself a hot piece of ass to walk around with you. Cain: What? Christ: Get a valet genius. The crowd will instantly appeal to you more with a fine lady hanging off your arm. So, when you show up to 1.3, you have a valet or don’t bother showing up at all. Got it? And before you ask, I don’t give a fuck where you get her. Just get it done. Now get the fuck out of my office. One Week Ago Andrew: Eat your fuckin pancakes. Andrew Belle looked up from his own leaning tower of flapjacks, chewing like a cow, and nodded to the woman who sat across the table from him. She was thin, yet lean enough that muscle definition was easily visible in her arms. She gazed back at the chomping, slightly overweight, balding, Hawaiian shirt wearing Andrew with her big, beautiful brown eyes. She smiled sweetly then pushed back the plate pancakes.Woman: No thanks. I’m not hungry. Andrew: Fuck it, your loss. He reached an arm that was showing the first signs of flabbiness across the table and stabbed his fork into the stack of hotcakes on the woman’s plate. He slowly lifted the entire stack off the plate and transferred them to his own mound of breakfast deliciousness. The woman watched with a sneer of disgust across her face that quickly vanished when Andrew once again turned his attention to her.Andrew: So…are we clear…on what you gotta do? He spoke while chewing a mouthful of food.Woman: Yeah, I find this pimp…um… She paused and squinted as she thought. Andrew watched her and quickly grew impatient.Andrew: Rosebudd. The woman nodded her head quickly.Woman: Right, right. Rosebudd. Andrew rolled his eyes and shoveled another forkful of pancake into his mouth.Woman: So I find Rosebudd, plead to him about how I need a job. Tell him that I was thinking about doing this for a long time, and thought it would be safer with a little…protection. Andrew again spoke through a mouthful of food.Andrew: And if he asks how you found out about him? Woman: Tell him I used to be friends with one of his old girls, Angel. Angel Peters. Andrew nodded. He waved his hand motioning her to go on.Woman: Then, once Cain…disposes…of him. I plead with Cain to take me with him. Andrew: And if that doesn’t work? The woman grabbed the front of the shoulder straps on her tank top and lifted the shirt up. This caused her heaving breasts to rise slightly. She then released the straps, her breasts falling back into place with a glorious bouncing motion. She smirked and winked at Andrew.Woman: I have…OTHER ways of persuading him. Andrew nodded, his eyes still on her firm, supple breasts. He sucked a rogue piece of pancake out of his teeth using his tongue, then sat back in his booth and stretched his arms across the back.Andrew: Yes you do. And have you decided on a name? The woman smirked.Woman: Yeah…Destiny. Andrew nodded slowly.Andrew: So Destiny, after you convince Cain to let you tag along, you remember what comes next? Destiny swiped up a glob of syrup with her finger, then stuck it in her mouth and sucked on it hard.Destiny: Then…I kill him. After VCW 1.2 Conclusion Cain pushed the crash bar on the backdoor to the arena and exited into the chilly night time air. What Craig Christ had said to him, had him slightly worried. Should he risk taking in a random girl who may ruin his whole mission? If he didn’t, Christ said he would fire him and that would end his mission. To Cain, it seemed either way he went, he was fucked.
He strolled vacantly through the near empty, poorly lit parking lot contemplating his situation. In fact, his mind was so distracted by the meeting he had just had with Christ that he didn’t even noticed the speeding white van coming up behind him. Had he been a little less distracted, Cain may have been able to escape and completely avoid the events that unfolded that evening.
However, that wasn’t the case, and Cain barely had time to react as the van came to a screeching halt beside him. The large sliding door on the side of the plain white utility van slid open and a large pair of black hands reached out from the dark interior of the vehicle.
Cain was tossed to the filthy floor of the van and the door was slid shut behind him.Cain: What the fu… That was all he managed to say before a large fist came crashing down across the bridge of his nose. Then there was silence and lots, and lots of darkness.Three Hours Later Man: Wakey, wakey motherfucker! Cold water splashed onto Cain Ravid’s face and body. The shock of the freezing cold ice water immediately brought Cain out of his fist-induced siesta. He gasped and inhaled sharply as the cold trickles of H2O stole the breath from his lungs.
He looked at the man in front of him who was laughing and holding a now empty metallic pale. He was a slim white male, six feet in height. His hair was done up in dreadlocks and hung to the center of his back. The man smiled and Cain could see that the entire top row of the man’s teeth had been capped in cold and the entire bottom row had been capped in platinum. A small collection of gold chains hung around the man’s neck and dangled on the front of his black and white Notorious B.I.G. t-shirt. His dark blue jeans were baggy and sagged nearly down to his knees.Man: Ah! So glad you could join us. Wouldn’t want to start the party without the guest of honor… He looked back over his shoulder to two scantily clad women who were half sitting, half lying on a large brown leather sofa. One blond and one brunette.Man: …would we ladies? The girls giggled and then they both spoke in unison.Girls: No Rosebudd. Rosebudd turned his attention to Cain and smirked.Rosebudd: No, of course we wouldn’t. Cain was seated with his hands tied behind him. He tried to pull apart his bound wrists, but to no avail. Cain’s eyes looked past Rosebudd and focused on the man standing in front of the only door that Cain could see. He saw a large black man, with a crew cut, wearing some type of tactical gear and black sunglasses standing in front of the door. Rosebudd saw where he was looking and grinned.Rosebudd: Dat’s Marty. He’s here because if you have a horseshoe up your ass and are lucky enough to somehow escape and make it past me…that big nigga is sure to stop you in your tracks. Ain’t that right Marty? Marty: That’s right boss. Cain: And who the fuck are you? Rosebudd? Rosebudd chuckled. Then looked back toward Marty.Rosebudd: Hey Marty, you hear this shit? We got ourselves a regular Colombo! Yeah you fuckin camel fucker, I’m Rosebudd. That’s Rosebudd with a double “D” because I deliver a double dose of this pimpin’ ain’t that right Marty. From behind him Marty nodded and called back.Marty: That’s right boss. Rosebudd: Let’s get right down to business, because after all, I’m a business man. You know why I brought you here? Rosebudd didn’t wait for an answer.Rosebudd: Do you remember a fine piece of ass by the name of Angel? Angel Peters? A fine piece of ass that maybe…had an accident? Cain: Accident? I don’t remember any accident. I remember I choked the shit out of her, and then set that filthy whore on fire. Rosebudd exhaled a short sharp breath that seemed to express his impatience, and then looked over his shoulder at Marty who was watching the conversation from afar.Rosebudd: Can you fuckin’ believe this guy, Marty? The large black man nods his head slowly.Marty: Fuckin’ idiot boss. Rosebudd: Fuckin’ idiot fo’sho. Rosebudd looked over his shoulder to the girls who were still seated on the couch. He nodded toward the brunette.Rosebudd: Come here baby girl. The brunette stood and walked seductively toward Rosebudd. He patted his left thigh and she sat. Then he turned his attention back to Cain, who all the while was still working on freeing his hands.Rosebudd: Say hello to our guest baby. The girl looked at Cain with her magnificent sparkling brown eyes and winked.Destiny: Hello, I’m Destiny. Pleasure to meet you. Rosebudd: You see, that filthy whore as you call her, well, this was her friend. And she came to me asking ME to help her find the scumbag who choked and burned her friend to a crisp. And how could I turn down a request from a pair of tits like these. He grabbed a handful of Destiny’ right breast and jiggled it furiously. He leaned his head back and cackled like a maniac. Destiny merely grinned. Cain could see her almost grimace under the pimp’s touch. Rosebudd calmed himself then continued.Rosebudd: So, I’ve lived up to my part of the bargain. I’ve got you here and now I’m going to make you pay. I told you, I’m a businessman. Angel wasn’t the prettiest of my bunch, but the bitch brought in a good take. She’d be pullin in bout a thousand a night. Now that’s seven thousand a week, three hundred sixty four thousand a fuckin year. I’ll admit that bitch was a little past her prime and that pussy could probably only sell for about 5 mo’ years. But I ran the figures, and losin her lost me about 1.8 million dollars. That’s one point eight million that I ain’t never goin to see because you decided to kill a ho. Now I don’t know why you did it, and nigga, frankly I don’t care. What I do care about is my fuckin money. So, now I give you three fuckin options. Option one is that you turn the fuck around, bend over and shit me 1.8 million dollars. You do that shit and I’ll untie your camel-ridin ass. Hell, I’ll even let you spend some time with Destiny and her friend Rachel back there. Rosebudd nodded to the blond-haired girl who was still seated on the couch.Rosebudd: Put since you don’t look like no fuckin ATM that I’ve ever seen, I think that options out of the fuckin question. So that leaves option two. Cain: Which is? Rosebudd: Which is, at your next wrestling show, you fuckin throw your match and let Sir Feyd Brisbane pin you for the one, two, three. Cain was a little taken back by this comment. He hadn’t expected any of this to involve his wrestling career. Rosebudd must have noticed his surprise and smiled.Rosebudd: A lot of people, have a lot of money riding on this championship tournament. And the majority of those people would like to see Brisbane win the whole damn thing. So, you take the dive and we’re Even Steven. Don’t take the dive…and well there’s always option three. Cain: And what’s option three?
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Cain Ravid
Lower Midcarder
"Not so; if anyone kills Cain, he will suffer vengeance seven times over."
Posts: 106
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Post by Cain Ravid on Apr 16, 2008 2:44:30 GMT -5
Rosebudd nodded back over his shoulder to Marty.Rosebudd: See that big nigga there? Option three is I let that silverback gorilla tear you fuckin’ limb from limb, while I rip your fuckin eyeballs out and skull fuck you. So what’ll it be? One, two, or three? Cain: You have no idea of the world of shit you’ve just entered. You have just signed your own death warrant, and you don’t even know it. You’re in way over your head here. Rosebudd: Way over my head? Motherfucker, your eyes are open but you ain’t seein the whole fuckin picture. I’m the one in control here. You’re the one who’s all tied up, did you forget that? All I have to do is snap my fingers and Marty here plants two into your brain. The only person over their head here is you. So are you in or am I going to have to start snapping my fingers. Cain: How you are going to snap your fingers after I’ve broken them all. Rosebudd laughed, looking over his shoulder at Marty who forced out a small chuckle.Rosebudd: You don’t seem to comprehend the seriousness of the situation your ass is in my friend. Either you are going to throw that match…or you’re going to no show the whole event… Rosebudd held his hand in the shape of a gun and dug his fingers into Cain's temple.Rosebudd: ...catch my drift. Cain: The only drift I’m catching is that after a long night of lapping up the cum soaked pussies of your herpes infested tramps, you crawl into bed with that Fat Albert wannabe mother fucker over there and let him ram his nigger dick into your white faggot ass. Now tell me, is that the drift you wanted me to catch? Rosebudd smirked sarcastically and shook his head.Rosebudd: Marty, handle this mother fucker. Marty: Wit pleasure boss. Marty pulled a black .40 caliber pistol from the holster slung around his shoulder. He held the gun to Cain’s head and pulled the hammer back with his thumb until it clicked into place.Rosebudd: Wait, wait. Gimme that piece. I want to kill this camel fuckin mother fucker myself. Marty: You sure boss? Rosebudd: Yeah I’m sure you Twinkie eatin sonovabitch. Gimme that fuckin gun. Marty handed the weapon to his boss and Rosebudd pressed the barrel deep into Cain’s forehead.Rosebudd: Any last words mother fucker, before I blow your brains all over that wall. Cain remained silent.Rosebudd: Suit yourself. Rosebudd began to slowly squeeze back the gun’s trigger with his index finger. Just when he was about to break the plane of the trigger and send the hammer crashing forward, Cain spoke.Cain: Wait! Wait! Rosebudd: I knew this mother fucker would chicken out. See that Marty, I probably made the little baby shit his pants. Cain: Oh I ain’t chickening out. Just thought I’d take you up on your offer to give my last words. Rosebudd: Oh yeah, well make it quick mother fucker, I got a business to run here. Cain smirked.Cain: I just wanted to tell you were right. Rosebudd grinned a shiny grin and looked at Marty then back to Cain.Rosebudd: Oh yeah, about what? Cain: When you said you were the one in control. That I was the one tied up. You were right. Rosebudd: I know that I’m right mother fucker, I don’t need you to tell me that. Cain: No…I didn’t say you ARE right…I said you WERE right. See what you failed to notice is that piece of rope lying behind my chair. Rosebudd’s grin disappeared.Cain: That water sure did make it easy for my hands to slip free. Rosebudd: You’re lying. If you was free, you’d already be tryin to run. Cain shrugged.Cain: Check for yourself. Rosebudd slowly leaned to the side and looked behind Cain’s chair. On the floor, he saw a small pile of soaking wet rope.Rosebudd: Mother Fu… He never finished his last sentence. Cain sprung from the chair and grabbed the pistol from Rosebudd’s hands. He gripped the fingers on Rosebudd’s right hand and bent them backwards until they made a sickening snap and touched the top of his forearm. Rosebudd released a scream but Cain quickly silenced him with a pistol whip to the mouth. Cain could here a faint clatter as gold and platinum teeth skittered across the floor. Rosebudd dropped to the floor, supporting himself with his left hand. Cain then made good on his promise and stomped a booted heel onto Rosebudd’s left hand. The pimps remaining finger bones shattered into bits and Rosebudd collapsed into a sniveling heap of blood and tears.
All this happened so quick, the overweight bodyguard Marty barely had a moment to react. And just as he brought his spare gun from behind his back, Cain used the pistol he stole from Rosebudd’s hand to fire off a perfectly placed bullet into Marty’s forehead. The fat man died instantly.
Cain stooped down and grabbed a handful of Rosebudd’s shirt. He pulled the sniveling, balling man up slightly off the floor, just enough so the two were eye to eye.Cain: Just know that I could kill you, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll leave you living the pitiful existence you try to pass off as a life so that you can run back to those that have employed your services in an attempt to detour me from my ultimate objective, and deliver this message. You can forget about me taking that dive. I’m going to beat Brisbane…that’s a fact. However, mistake not my kindness for cowardness. The best advice I can give to you FRIEND, is after I’m gone you crawl around this floor of yours and pick up all those pretty gold and platinum teeth I just knocked out of your skull, melt them down and put all that money on Cain Ravid winning the VCW World Title. Then you use those winnings to fly far, far away from here because if I so much as catch wind that you even dared SNEEZE in the same area code as me, I will hunt you down and I will end your life…slowly and painfully. Do we have an understanding Rosebudd, with a double d? Don’t speak, just nod that stupid looking head of yours if we have an understanding. Rosebudd nodded and Cain released his shirt. The pimp fell back to the floor, clutching his mangled hands to his chest and sniveling in pain. Cain dropped the weapon he was holding to the floor and moved toward the door Marty had been guarding. A female voice called out to him.Destiny: Wait! Take me with you! Cain stopped and turned his head just enough for the corner of his eye to look at the girl from over his shoulder.Cain: You’re free to go. Destiny: I don’t have anywhere to go. This was my home. Cain: Then stay here. I don’t give a fuck. Destiny: I can’t stay here. I don’t want to stay here. Cain: That’s not my problem. Destiny: Please… Cain nearly turned to leave, then hesitated as his earlier meeting with Christ passed through his mind.She did have the look Craig Christ was searching for, he thought.Cain: Fine…hurry up. We don’t have time to grab your things. Destiny: That’s fine, because I don’t have any. Destiny ran up to him and the two of them turned to leave when another voice called to Cain, this time it was the blond.Blond: Can I come? Her voice sounded scared and on the brink of becoming frantic.Cain: No. Blond: Please! I don’t have anywhere else either! This excuse was highly overused, he thought.Blond: Just for one night! That’s all, I promise! Cain looked at Destiny, who shrugged.Cain: What’s your name? Blond: Rachel… Cain hesitated a moment and stared at the girl. He then shook his head, then turned back to the door.That name, he thought. That goddamn name.Cain: Fine…just one night. Come on. Cain and Destiny stepped through the door, and Rachel was soon right behind them.Later The motley crew of three laid down to rest in a motel room on a deserted stretch of highway. The kind of place that Cain had become so accustomed to over the years. The kind of place where he truly felt at home.
Cain had discussed the plan with both Destiny and Rachel upon their arrival at the motel. They would all sleep in the room tonight then, in the morning, Cain and Destiny would make their way to Glendale, Arizona where VCW 1.3 was being held. Cain explained to Destiny his plan to have her accompany him to the ring during his time in VCW and beyond that, she didn’t need to know anything else. Much to Cain’s surprise, she was very quick to accept the position and agreed not to ask any further questions.
Cain then told Rachel that he would pay for one more night for her to sleep in the motel, after that, she must leave and agree not to follow in their direction. If she did, Cain explained that he would have no qualms with leaving her in the same state that he had left her pimp. He had seen the hurt feelings in her eyes but he explained that he could only bring one with him, and Destiny was she. Rachel reluctantly agreed, then the three retired for the evening. Cain agreed to sleep on the floor and allowed the girls to share the single King sized bed. At first, he contemplated making love to both the girls that night, however, this would only instill feelings of attachment in Rachel and may prompt her to follow them and, he wanted none of that.
Besides, his body was exhausted from the beating it had taken from Sam & Max coupled with the strain of the physical confrontation with Rosebudd and Marty. Once Cain laid down for the night, sleep came over him quickly and deeply.
Unfortunately for him, the sleep was a little too deep and he failed to hear one of the women he had rescued slowly slide herself out of the bed. His years of training his ears to pick up even the faintest sounds meant nothing in his state of slumber. He didn’t hear the woman as she slowly slid a tiny, ultra-concealable semi-automatic pistol from the garter belt wrapped around her thigh. Cain didn’t even stir as the hammer of the small firearm was pulled back and clicked into place. Even as Destiny stood over Cain, straddling his chest, training the sight of her weapon onto Cain’s forehead, the man didn’t even move. A few seconds of silence passed then…a single shot rang out through the tiny motel room.One Week Ago Andrew Belle watched as Destiny sauntered past him and out of the diner. He continued to watch her through the yellow stained glass windows of the establishment until she ducked around the corner and was completely out of sight. Then he turned back around and looked at the blond haired woman who was seated two booths down from his own. He lifted his hand and waggled his index and middle fingers, making the international sign for “Come here”. The blond hair woman smirked, then stood up and approached the booth where Andrew was seated. The man motioned for her to sit, and she did.Woman: So she’s the mark, huh? Andrew nodded, shoving a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. He took a couple bites, and then spoke.Andrew: Yeah. She’s calling herself Destiny. She thinks she’s supposed to kill him. Obviously, we can’t let that happen. Woman: Obviously. Let me guess, I stop her from performing her…duties…and Cain develops an overwhelming sense of trust for me. He allows me to tag along and then I… She trailed off. Andrew swallowed his pancakes, then pushed the plate in front of him away.Andrew: We need Cain to win that championship match. It’s more important then he thinks or knows. You are there to ensure that he has the best odds of winning. You do whatever it takes for him to achieve that goal. Interfere, cheat, steal…anything. Even if he doesn’t win the title, it’s imperative that he becomes a MAJOR force within the company. The woman nodded.Woman: I see. And what are the expectations for me concerning how I should stop Miss Destiny? A very serious look came over Andrew’s face and he spoke in a deep, hushed tone.Andrew: You are to do WHATEVER is necessary to gain Cain’s trust. Woman: Even if that involves killing her? Andrew: WHATEVER is necessary. The two looked at each other, both wanting to ensure there was a mutual understanding among them. Once both were satisfied, Andrew spoke.Andrew: By the way, what are you telling him your name is? He picked up his glass of water and took a drink.Woman: Rachel. Andrew choked and sat his glass down. He recovered from nearly spitting his mouthful of water all over her, and then swallowed it roughly.Andrew: You vicious little girl. Rachel smiled evilly.Rachel: Aren’t I? In the motel room Cain was awake immediately. The gunpowder explosion, combined with the warm crimson liquid splashing down onto his face was MORE than enough to shake him from his deep sleep. He sat up from his laying position just in time to watch Destiny’s lifeless body slouch to her left side, then go crashing to the floor. He whipped his gaze around to the bed and looked at Rachel, who was holding a small caliber pistol in her hand.
The situation was so confusing he couldn’t even formulate the words to ask her what the hell was going on. Fortunately, she seemed to know from the expression on his face exactly what he wanted to ask so, she answered.Rachel: She tried to kill you. Cain looked at Destiny’s fallen body, then back at Rachel. Again she answered the question he was thinking, without having to be asked.Rachel: Look in her hand. She has a gun. She was standing over you about to put one in your skull, when I just happened to wake up and catch her. I fired my own weapon, which I had concealed in my boot. Sorry for not telling you but, I couldn’t exactly trust you now could I? Cain still a bit baffled but quickly regaining his senses stood up. He gave one last glance at Destiny’s lifeless form, then looked back at Rachel.Guess she’ll have to do, he thought to himself.Cain: Get your things. We need to get out of here. Cain expected questions, or protests but, much to his surprise, Rachel immediately sprang from the bed and began to gather her few belongings. She only asked a single question once she had collected her things.Rachel: Where are we going? Cain pulled open the motel door, and he could hear the faintest sounds of sirens in the distance.Cain: Tempe, Arizona. I’m a…wrestler…professional wrestler. And I need your help with some things. I’ll explain more on the way, but now we have to be going. Rachel nodded and the couple left the motel room, leaving only questions and Destiny’s dead body for the police.
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cc
Developmental Talent
Posts: 37
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Post by cc on Apr 16, 2008 12:50:32 GMT -5
The scene opens up in The Justice Cave a.k.a Courage's basement. Courage is talking to his sidekick sock puppet Mighty Sock while checking his mail.Courage: Its finally here! Sock: What did you order this time, penis enlarger pills? Courage: I do not buy pills since I invented them like everything else on the internet. Anyway my first fan mail is here, what to read it to me? Sock: Its not like I have a choice, I mean I'm your sanity in the shape of a talking sock. Courage: What? Sock: Never mind, how about you read it since it is yours after all. Captain Courage opens the letter, clears his throat and proceeds to read it out loud.Courage: Dear Captain Courage, You are a complete retard, you are not a superhero and you should go back to what ever mental institute that you came from. What is is even worse than that though is that you are a rip off of WWE's Hurricane, I have seen shit that is more original than you. In fact please come wrestle one more time so I can cut your wire when your are pretending to fly. Have a nice day! From John Lincoln Sock: I can't believe that I didn't say the Hurricane thing, oh well at least its been said. Courage: I'm not entirely sure what a WWE is but how do I rip off something like that. Is it even possible to be a tropical cyclone that is a storm system characterized by a low pressure center and numerous thunderstorms that produce strong winds and flooding rain. Oh and yes I just took that from Wikipedia which I invented. Sock: Maybe we should move on to something else. Courage: Awwww but I was going to tell you how I fly and not use wires. Sock: I dont think I would be able to stop laughing so lets move on. Have you prepared for your match at 1.3? Courage: Why would I need to, we all know I'm going to win, I never lose. Sock: You lost in your first match in the Seraphim Falls Tournament. Courage: You must be mistaken because I got the first pin in history against iSav. Sock: Yes you did do that but you still lost, thats why your no longer in the tournament. Courage: I'm no longer in the tournament because I won the championship and everyone else is fighting to be number one contender. Sock: Do you even know what the championship is called? Courage: The Captain Courage Championship, Triple C Title for short. Sock: When will the stupidity end. Lets get back to your match at 1.3. Have you prepared yourself and researched your opponents? Courage: I never looked at the card, I like surprises you see. Sock: Do you know who you are even tagging with? Courage: Of course, I'm not stupid you know. I'm teaming up with the Great Nodnarb, not as great as me but still great. I was told the super villain known as iSav is in the match too so justice will be served yet again. Sock: Try to be careful, you may have just gotten lucky last time. If you actually prepare for your match, you could actually win. Courage: Stop telling me what to do, I'm Captain Courage, I dont need help from a sock even if it is mighty. Please be quite so I can strike a pose. Sock: Is this all we are ever going to do? Courage: This is the life of a superhero, so yes it is all we are going to do. Sock: All you ever do is talk and then strike a pose. Superheroes actually go outside and save people, are you ever going to do something like that. Courage: Oh fine, I guess I could show you how its done since I'm running out of beef jerky anyway. ~xXx~ The scene reopens up with Courage walking out of the supermarket with Mighty Sock on one hand and beef jerky in the other.Sock: You never really did show me how its done.Courage: Fine, let me show you how to get and old lady get across the street. Courage runs into the middle of the street with his arms out forward trying to stop the cars coming as the old lady walked across the street, confused at what Courage was doing Surprisingly the cars stopped and it would seem that Courage had powers, except for the fact that the traffic lights had gone red.Courage: See this is true power, for I am Captain Courage! Sock: Someone please kill me. Scene fades to black.
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Post by Sir Feyd Brisbane on Apr 17, 2008 9:44:21 GMT -5
Feyd sat down in a comfortable leather chair. He leaned back, hearing the slick squeak as his enameled breastplate rolled over the smooth surface of the leather. His hair was somewhat unkempt, as though he had not tended to it in days.
"Dr. Cordum, I don't know what to do. Lately I've just felt so drained. After my second match, I though I had proven myself, but then out of nowhere, I just became exhausted." He looked over the man sitting opposite the small table from him, who nodded to him calmly.
"Charles, did it ever occur to you that you're just nervous? I know that you dont think I knight should, but why not? You're only human." Cordum shifted in his seat, removing his navy blazer and draping it over the back of his chair. A hand made its way under his chin, stroking his whiskers idly.
"I don't see what I could be nervous about. Joining that wrestler deal was the best suggestion you ever made. I mean, I'm keeping in shape, I'm contributing. People even recognize me in the street."
"Is that what knighthood is about, Charles?"
"Well, no. But I mean it's like they know that I'm doing a good thing. Every time I hear the cheering, it makes me feel like what I'm doing is valid. But I just don't understand why I've been so tired."
Shrugging, the doctor simply said, "You've been worked hard. You've been training, you've had two matches, one of which was after a brutal beating by the hands of Christ's associates... Speaking of which, I'm going to have a little visit with him about that. Either way, you've had a tough last couple of weeks."
“I guess you’re right, doctor. Plus, my match with Cain is soon, and I’m not really looking forward to being in the ring with him. I’ve heard talk that he killed some people. I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself. “ Feyd could feel a shudder run through him, a force that caused his armor to shake slightly. He sighed, looking at the psychologist with dull eyes.
“Charles, you’ve faced worse things. Come on, this Cain Ravid man is just a wrestler. You were almost put to death. But you stuck it out at your trial and made it through. Now it’s eight years later, and you just need to do the same. And the worse case scenario is that he ends up with a minor injury. No harm, no foul.”
“Dr. Cordum, you’ve changed a lot in the last couple of weeks. When I first got released from the institution, you were afraid that I was going to hurt someone. Why the change of heart?”
Now it was the doctor’s turn to sigh. He stood up and walked to his desk. Opening the second drawer, he pulled out a manila folder and brought it to Feyd. He set it down and opened it, “Charles, I shouldn’t have doubted you. Every time I do, I go back and read through the court transcript. When I see how controlled you were, it reaffirms my thoughts of you.”
He smiled to Feyd, then pulled out the papers. He held them out to Feyd, who took them reluctantly. “I want you to take a gander. Maybe it will ease your mind as much as it does mine.”
Feyd flipped to a random part of the transcript and read:
[glow=red,2,300]OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO[/glow]
"Dr. Cordum, you had the opportunity to examine my client, did you not?"
"I did."
"And what did you determine about his mental state?"
I've concluded that Charles is deeply disturbed. Since he has been in the state's custody, he has opened up to me about what he believes to be his past."
"Could you elaborate, Doctor?"
"He believes that he is Feyd Brisbane, a twenty year old knight hailing from a land called Solamnia. He has deluded himself into believing that he was transported to our world via magical means."
"In your experience, what events can cause such delusions?"
"Generally, when someone is victim of such powerful delusions, there is a vast array of underlying factors. Physical, mental or sexual abuse, especially over a prolonged timeframe can cause antisocial and delusional behavior. If someone witnessed a traumatic event, it can also cause it. In that regard, the delusions may be seen as an elaborate coping mechanism from his subconscious."
"Just so that we can be clear, what is your expert opinion about Charles' condition?"
"It is my opinion that Charles suffers and extreme form of delusion. From what I can tell, he lives and breathes Feyd Brisbane, this alternate ego he has created."
"I have no more questions for this witness, Your Honor. However, I reserve the right to recall him later in the trial."
"Prosecution may begin cross-examination."
"Thank you your honor. Dr. Cordum, could you tell me how many times you have met with Charles Knight?"
"I have seen him once a week since he was put under arrest. For about an hour and a half each time."
"So, you've spent around twenty hours with him, altogether?"
"That sounds about right, sir."
"Generally, how long does it take to reach a diagnosis for a patient?"
“It varies with each patient. With a case like Charles’, it was a pretty straightforward process. Anyone who spends five minutes with him can tell there’s something wrong.”
“And couldn’t that simply be what he wants you to think? Even to a fifteen year-old, it must be better to live in a mental institution than to go to prison and know your life is over.”
“If I believed that is what he has done, I wouldn’t blame him. However, that is not the case. I have spent a sizable amount of time with him, as well as speaking with the staff of the facility where he is currently being held. He does not seem to have an off switch. As I said before, he lives and breathes Feyd Brisbane.”
“Is it not possible that he is just keeping up the act so the system will be easier on him?”
“Anything is possible. It’s entirely possible that this is an elaborate scheme, albeit quite unlikely. It seems more probably that something happened to him while on the ship that made him lose grip with reality.”
“But we can’t know that, can we doctor? We can’t know that because every surviving member of that ship has either died or gone missing. That’s quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say doctor?”
“…”
“Dr. Cordum, why do you think that none of the former members of the USS Paladin can be accounted for?”
“That’s beyond my ability to determine.”
“Isn’t it possible that this was not some boy who had been wronged and snapped? The mysterious circumstances regarding the material witnesses might suggest that perhaps this was an orchestrated operati-“
“Objection!”
“That this was a tactical plan to put a US warship out of commission.”
“Objection! I don’t know where he is getting this from, but it is obviously speculation!”
“Sustained. Mr. Bartholomew, reel it in.”
“My apologies, Your Honor. Tell me Dr. Cordum, why do you believe that this boy is innocent of these heinous crimes?”
“Because he was not in the right mind when it happened. He’s not in his right mind now. Because he was at sea, we can’t determine how long he’s been out of his right mind. Even with sodium pentothal, I had considerable difficulty trying to surface any information pertinent to his real life.”
[glow=red,2,300]OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO[/glow]
Feyd looked up from the transcript, furrowing his brow a bit. He didn't remember that part of the hearing, but then, as he thought about it, he couldn't remember much of the trial at all. He cast his glance to Dr. Cordum, who had seated himself and begun watching Feyd, a legal pad and pen at hand. "You've stopped reading, Charles..."
"I can't remember much of the trial. I remember that it happened, and I can remember faces, but not what happened." He dropped his elbows on the table and cupped his face in his hands, trying to think.
Closing his eyes, he strained his mind, trying to force through the roadblocks his brain had thrown in the way, but to no avail. He felt a weight on his shoulder and looked up to see his doctor hovering over him. His hand rested on the plate of his armor.
"Charles, don't try to force yourself. Sometimes our brains know what's best. They want to protect us, so they dont let us see some things. Why don't you keep reading?"
Feyd ran his hand back through his hair, forcing it through the thick tufts and tangles. He could not believe that he had been neglecting his appearance. A knight was supposed to look regal, imposing even. But now, he had no doubt that he looked like a drifter in stolen armor. He shrugged to himself and scanned over more of the transcript idly. He continued flipping through the pages, when his other name caught his eye.
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“The defense calls the accused, Charles Knight to the stand.”
“Alright council. Charles, please approach the bench.”
“Approach the bench, Charles.”
“Approach the bench, or this court shall hold you in contempt.”
“Your Honor, my name is not Charles Knight. It is Feyd Brisbane, and though you believe me to be some other person, I respectfully request that you address me as I know myself.”
“Fine. Council shall refer to the accused as Feyd Brisbane. Now get to the stand.”
“Bailiff, swear in Mr. Brisbane.”
“Feyd Brisbane, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“As Paladine is my witness, I cannot lie.”
“Ch- Feyd, please tell us what happened on the USS Paladin.”
“The what?”
“The ship that you were on.”
“My memory is fragmented. All I can remember is waking up in a cell. I believe the jargon they use is the brig. The crew was quite angry with me, but I do not know what slight I may have committed. I had been hurt, but the wound had been dressed and I did not know what it was from. Beyond that, I cannot say what happened.”
“Can you tell the court the last thing you remember before waking up on the ship?”
“The last thing I can remember is meeting with my father after being accepted into the Order of the Rose. He was so proud of me, in spite of the things that had happened between us. I stayed with him at his keep.”
“Do you remember being brought onto the ship?”
“No.”
“Do you remember any of the events leading up to finding yourself in the cell?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“You Honor, I would like to introduce into evidence the compiled notes of Dr. Cordum in regard to Feyd’s condition.”
“Let it be so, council.”
“Feyd, it says in Dr. Cordum’s notes that you did not react much to the sodium pentothal he injected you with. Do you know what sodium pentothal is?”
“I have been told it is some kind of truth-inducing potion.”
“That’s correct. Sodium pentothal is used to wretch the truth from someone who is unwilling to give it. Do you know why you were hardly affected by it?”
“Objection. The accused can hardly be considered an expert on the serum’s use.”
“Overruled. I want to hear what the boy has to say. Council, please repeat the question.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Feyd, do you have any idea as to why you were barely affected by it?”
“I imagine I must have made my saving throw sir.”
“Excuse me?”
“My saving throw. My body must have rejected it if you believe that it did not have its desired cause.”
“Thank you Feyd. Your Honor, I am finished.”
“Thank you council. Prosecution may cross.”
“Charles, you say that you awoke locked in a cell. How did you imagine you had gotten there?”
“Your Honor, I have requested that I be addressed by my true name.”
“Council, you shall refer to him as Feyd.”
“Your Honor, I cannot, in good conscience. If we bend to his claimed delusions now, we are all but admitting that they are true.”
“Nonetheless, you shall refer to him in the manner he has asked. The jury is instructed to disregard the use of semantics in the courtroom.”
“Feyd…. How do you think you came to be in the brig of the ship?”
“I have no way of knowing that sir. My memory does not allow me access to that.”
“How convenient for you…”
“Objection!”
“Withdrawn... Feyd, don’t you find it convenient that you apparently cannot recall how you came to be on the ship, or what events transpired during that time?”
“Since I have no recollection, I find it neither convenient nor inconvenient for myself. It only makes it harder for you, I suppose.”
“Not very convenient for the families of the men you killed though, is it?”
“Your Honor, prosecution is goading my client.”
“Council, I’m going to give you a little leverage, but tread lightly.”
“Your Honor!”
“Mr. Etheridge, I am allowing the question.”
“Sir, I am sorry for the loss of the families. But because I do not know what happened, what would you have me tell them?"
“I can tell you what happened. You left your room that night, you took the sword of an officer and you proceeding to slay every man on that ship. When you were about to leave, you were confronted by sailors coming back to the ship and fought them. Then you were subdued and brought to the brig.”
“Why would I kill these men? I only lay my retribution upon the unjust. These men may or may not have been unjust, but I do not have any way of knowing that, and thus I would have no reason to kill them.”
“We have letters left from some of the survivors saying that you did. How do you explain that?”
“I cannot, sir.”
“Let’s change gears a little bit. You said that perhaps your body rejected the sodium pentothal. Perhaps you actively fought off the agent and that’s why you still maintain that you do not know what happened.”
“That’s a possibility, but it’s also a possibility that my lack of memory is the truth, which is surely less far-fetched than training my body to reject a drug so that I could commit murder. I don’t know much about the law of your land, but I’ve been told of Reasonable Doubt. I also know a little of your history and philosophy. Sir William of Okham postulated that the simplest answer is most often the correct one.”
[glow=red,2,300]OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO[/glow]
Feyd began flipping through the pages, to the end of the last day.
“We the jury find the accused to be not guilty, on the grounds of insanity.”
“Men and woman of the jury, this court thanks you for your efforts. This court shall hand over care of the minor Charles Knight to Dr. Cordum for further examination. Court is adjourned.”
[glow=red,2,300]OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO[/glow]
The papers fell back onto the manila folder. Dr. Cordum picked up the folder and sighed slightly. “So you see, there should be no problem in facing Cain Ravid. It shall be a wonderful match.” He smiled to the other man.
“And that dopey fuck actually believed you? He probably ate that shit up…”
“I know that you and I can reach an agreement at some level. In this instance, what’s in Charles’ best interest will also be in VCW’s. What I need you to do is to find ways to challenge him, both physically and mentally. If you can bombard him with enough about his delusions, he may eventually shed them. That is good for him, because then he can live his life. It’s good for you because that sort of thing will probably raise ratings.”
“Dr. Cordum, I think we can reach some kind of understanding. Oh, and you’re welcome for last week. I wouldn’t have thought to send out my little friends into the desert with him. Whether it helps him is negligible in my book, as long as it helps me.”
“I understand.” He leaned forward to shake the man’s hand, but was shrugged off. "I just need yout o make sure I'm not a part of this. I could have my medical license revoked and be sent to prison if word of this 'treatment' came out."
“Of course. But another thing, doctor. If this backfires, you will pay. I do not make idle threats, and I do not mean I’ll send someone to lump you up. Prison will be the least of your worries.” The man smiled, and pulled out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. “In the meantime, would you like a drink?” He sat down and looked up to Cordum.
Dr. Cordum seated himself as well, nodding, “Why thank you Mr. Christ.”
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Post by Super 'Mella Bear on Apr 17, 2008 15:40:37 GMT -5
The scene opens to the suit-clad Anon seated on crate inside of the dimly lit Boiler Room of the Jobing.com Arena; moments before his upcoming match against Eric Ares. He ponders in isolation, away from it all – the politics, the numerous feuds, the fast brewing conflict between the two growing factions – pretty much, every distraction that you’d find in a wrestling fed. All that can be heard is the usual clank and clatter coming from the pipes – noises that Anon is finding most soothing, at the moment. Amongst the clamor, the thoughts of the Soldier of Misfortune can be heard.<Well, aren’t I the lucky one, once again? How I managed to put away /d/unn last week was close to a miracle! He totally took me to the limit, and I’m just fortunate that Lady Luck chose to assist me, instead of him.>Anon sighs heavily at the thought of almost letting victory slip away for the second time.<If only I could just get away…make a mad dash for that arena entrance and never look back! If only it were that easy…>Anon looks up and places his hands behind his head, folding them in place.<Ah, what’s the use? Fucking tracking technology…there’s no way I’d be able to dodge “them” for too long, anyway. I’m doomed to don this shroud enveloping my body until I can win that title…>Stands up from the crate, and begins to pace around.<I’m seriously going to have to start amping up my performance level. I’ve been making to many mistakes out there, and I just can’t afford to slip up. I’m way too close to escaping all of this mess…>Anon walks towards the door of the Boiler Room, and pauses once he grabs at the doorknob.<I have to start acting like my situation requires me to –a man on the brink of failure. I must switch it on and become more dominating. It’s about time that I become that guy who went undefeated in the U.P.F.R…>~Start of Flashback~ The scene suddenly switches to a first person view through the eyes of Anon. In his view, swarms the various other inmates can be seen bustling around in what seems to be the massive lunchroom of the unknown correctional facility. Every inmate is decked out in bright orange, full-body jumpsuits, and magnetic boots. Armed COs are spread about the facility, armed and standing guard, whether it be on the floor or the upper levels. Anon is apparently on line, gathering his meal for the afternoon. As the line progresses, Anon gets lost in his thoughts.
<Days go by, but in this place, you hardly even realize it when it happens to be just a few; as it pretty much feels as if I’m living through the longest day of my life. I’ve made a very strong attempt to keep as far away as I can from the true monsters deserving of their stay here - evading getting involved with any of the seedy shit that usually tends to go down in the pen. Though, as hard as I tried to keep to myself, it’s virtually impossible to do so. Either way, for the whatever amount of time that I’ve been locked up in here, I’ve been able to make acquaintances with a few other guys who claim their innocence for the crimes that they’re being charged with. Beats me whether they’re being honest or not, as it is a difficult task trying to gauge if anyone’s really telling the truth in a place like this. I’m actually glad I decided not to those guys out, since I could only imagine myself cracking psychologically if I had remained a loner…>
Anon approaches a lunch table consisting of a few guys who were busy eating and mingling, and takes a seat while putting down his lunch tray.
<Amongst the small group that I’ve been associating with – all shorter, thinner, and much less bulkier than me – my tall, muscle-bound ass sticks out like a sore thumb with an infection. Anyway, it seems like we’ve been able to keep out of every troublemaker’s radar, up until this particular. >
Anon rises out from his seat, and inadvertently bumps into another inmate, who appeared to twice his size, and adorned with tattoos all about the visible regions of his body. The inmate ends up dropping his lunch tray, due to the small collision with Anon, and begins to seethe, while the rest of the inmates stop what they’re doing in anticipation of what the inmate’s upcoming reaction.
<In a matter of seconds, I went from being low-key to drawing a big ol’ bull’s eye myself. The lunchroom was completely silent, and it reminded me of being back in high school. Everyone looked on to see what Slay was going to do. Yeah, they dude’s name was Slay, so you don’t even have to imagine why his ass is even up in here! If only he were watching where he going to do…>
Slay turns to face Anon who is in midst of apologizing.
Anon: My bad, bro. Here, I’ll go get you another tray of food.
Slay: Tha’s right. Looks lak’ I got mahself a new fackin’ Tina!
<As I walked towards the food area, I couldn’t help but stop on my tracks to turn and face Slay for his little comment. >
Anon: Excuse me?
Slay: Did Ike fackin’ tell ya teh stop walkin’ Tina? Hurryup an’ go fetch me mah food, befo’ I drop ya an’ fuck dat ass in fronta ever’body here!
<And just like that, I walked right back to my seat. My eyes never breaking the lock I had with his gaze, even while I sat back down. >
Slay: Ar’ ya fackin’ reta’ded or sumptin’? FETCH ME MAH FACKIN’ FOOD NOW!!!
<Slay grabbed me from my collar and viciously yanked me out of my seat, and my back landed hard against the metallic floor. Then, he fucked up. He reached down to grab at my neck, leaving him open for me to turn his cock into an inny with my metal encased boot, and roll his big ass into an Armbar. The lunchroom suddenly broke into a frenzy, while the guards FINALLY came in to control the situation. Well, what they actually did was zapped the shit out of me before I could break the fucker’s arm, and then I was out like a light…>
The scene returns by fading in and out, as Anon wakes up. Once he finally comes to, he notices nothing but darkness, accept for the dim light coming down upon him from the ceiling.
<I ended up waking up from being knocked with headache, which sucked, and completely unaware of where the fuck I was. (Oh yeah, did I mention that I was strapped into a chair and my feet were magnetized to the floor?) Suddenly, the sound of a door drew my attention, and I was able to see one of the COs walk in. He ended up raising the brightness of the room a bit before approaching me. >
CO: Bravo with your performance out there! You must be one crazy fuck to go looking for trouble in Slay’s direction!
Anon: It was a fucking accident.
CO: How about kicking his dick back into his body, and almost breaking his arm? Was that an accident?
Anon: That asshole deserved it!
CO: Ha! I tell ya, Slay has yet to be stood up against, so when me and the other COs saw what was brewing, we just couldn’t help but let the fire grow before dousing it!
Anon: (sarcastically) Nice of you to tell me that. You do know that he could’ve killed me, right?
CO: We wouldn’t have let it gone that far, so don't worry.
Anon: (sarcastically) Whatever you say…so, can I leave now? I mean, after all, I did give you and the other guards some entertainment!
CO: I’ll let you go in a bit, but first I need you to answer something for me.
Anon: Ok. What?
CO: Have you ever heard of the U.P.F.R.?
Anon: No, I haven’t. What exactly is it?
CO: It stands for the Underground Prison Fighting Ring. It’s funded by rich guys, and is takes place in the basement level of this facility – where we’re at now. They recruit guys that they feel show promise with their fighting abilities, and give them benefits for competing. Of course, the more you win, the better the rewards.
Anon: And you’re telling me this, why?
CO: Because I think you could be a helluva fighter! What do you say?
Anon: Hold on. What’s in it for you?
<The CO starts getting all shifty eyed, before finally telling me his reasoning behind his influencing me. >
CO: *sighs* There’s commission payment that can be made by us COs who manage to scout and recruit prisoners. Those who end up enrolling successful fighters also get rewards for each win that their choices pick up.
Anon: I see. Now why the fuck should I help you get rich?
CO: Trust me, bro. If you were looking to have your stay here improve, joining up would be your best bet. The privileges are way to good to pass up, especially since pretty powerful people are providing them.
Anon: Tell me more.
<And he did. So much so that I ended up agreeing to sign up. At least I finally have something to pass the time now…>
The scene fades out.
~ ~ ~ As the new scene fades back in, the view of a ring can be seen. Surrounding the ring is a cage, and surrounding the cage is a raucous crowd. In the middle of the ring stands the referee, who awaits the announcement of the next two participants.
<There I was – my first match. I had no idea who I would be facing, as the “powers that be” seem to prefer the element of surprise when it comes to the fighters. I guess they believe that it makes for a better fight if the competitors don’t train for their opponents. Either way, I was nervous as fuck, and just wanted to get this over with. >
Referee: Ladies and gentleman, the first match up pits a newcomer versus a fast rising up-and-comer. Introducing first…
Anon: *whispering* An up-and-comer? Well, this is fucking great! Couldn’t they just put me up against another rook? (breathes in deeply) Ok, here we go.
<I was intro’ed first. I stepped into the ring and waited in my corner. And no, there are no ringside staffs. We’re made to go at it alone. >
Referee: Introducing next…the currently undefeated…SLAY!
Anon: *whispering* Fuck me…
<The moment I heard that name, I felt my heart skip a beat. When he entered the ring, I could see the look of content in his eyes, while I couldn’t help but to feel like I was totally setup. But there was no time for me to concern myself with that as the bell rung, and we both charged towards each other…>
~End of Flashback~ The scene switches to that of a letter being written out, consisting of all of the details that were thought out by Anon thus far.<…and I ended up kicking Slay’s ass again. Not only that, but I kicked ass of everyone else that they put in front of me. Didn’t matter if it was from here, another town, another city, another state, another country, or another continent. What baffles me is not how I’ve been able to keep winning, but how I’ve been given the time to accomplish it all…>CO: LIGHTS OUT! Anon stops writing and proceeds to fold up the letter. He then shoves it in between the pages of the book that he used for support, and places the book on the floor besides his bed. He then turns over, and lies down, before shutting his eyes.~ ~ ~ The scene switches to that of a locker room, where an already suited up Anon is talking with, whom he thinks is his ally, Hostyle.Hostyle: Dude, fuck /d/unn’s offer. I think that you should try joining up with Christ. Anon: Are you serious? Zay, the guy is a total douche! And he has recruited more of his kind, like Eric Ares. Hostyle: So what if he’s a douchetard? You’d be a brain failure if you didn’t join forces with him. Anon: You gotta be shitting me! What am I saying? I should’ve expected this from you. Hostyle: Fuck is that supposed to mean? Anon: Well, look at your current situation over at FMW. You’re a part of the big, bad heel faction that’s dominating the fed, correct? Hostyle: That we are. Anon: So, of course, you would want me to take the easy path. Hostyle: Easy? Oh, so you think that me joining OS, was an easy path? Anon: Actually, I- Hostyle: (irritated) I’ll have you know that I’ve busted my balls to get where I am today, and would’ve easily done it has OS never existed, only it would’ve taken longer, due to me being overlooked. OS helped bring me to the forefront, and now, I’m well on my way to not only becoming the greatest C-4 champ, but also the greatest champ period! Anon: Ok, Zay. Didn’t mean to play you like that. But I’d rather not throw away my beliefs and morals by teaming up with the heels. Hostyle: Fuck your morals and beliefs! Joining with Christ’s crew is like taking an escalator. He’ll help you rise to stardom way faster than you would if you linked up with the Phases of Anonymity. Anon: I don’t care about being a superstar. Hostyle: Think about the VCW title, and how many more chances you’d get being aligned with Christ. Don’t you want your name cleared of the crime that you didn’t commit? Anon: Of course I do, but I don’t wanna do things the shady way, Zay. Silence overcomes the two, as Hostyle nods his head from side to side in disappointment. Then, after catching an epiphany, Hostyle finally breaks the silence by exclaiming his next statement with a slight hint of disdain that Anon is too oblivious to even notice.Hostyle: Think about…Evelyse. < I can’t believe that I’ve been thinking so selfishly. What Hostyle just said made me realize that my decision shouldn’t be made for me in mind, only. My decision is going to have to be made with the consideration of my fiancé back home…my precious, Evelyse…>Anon: You’re right, Zay. My decision shouldn't just concern me. I’ll also do it…for Evelyse. The scene fades out.~ ~ ~ The scene fades back in to the parking lot of the Thomas & Mack Center, after VCW Live 1.2 has ended. Christ and his crew are seen walking across the lot, and Anon suddenly appears from behind a pillar, startling the bunch. Adam Wylde and Colt Conrad step forward to lunge at Anon, but Christ stops them in their tracks.Christ: Well, well, well. If it isn’t N00b Saibot! Anon: Christ, do you have a moment? Christ: Of course not. Not for you, anyway. You must have me confused with that pussy-rejecting guy that got nailed a while back! Christ starts to trudge forward with the rest of his entourage following suit.Anon: This about your stable offer. Christ: (stops walking) Anon, step into my office. Can I get you anything? Anon: As a matter of fact, you can. A fight. Christ: (quizzically) Ex-squeeze me? Anon: I would like a fight. As in, what you and your posse are going to need when you face off against the Phases! Christ: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let me get this straight. Are you declining my offer? Anon: I sure as fuck didn’t hear “I accept” coming out of my mouth. Did you? Christ: (looking at his angered allies) This motherfucker has the nerve to blaspheme against me when I have all of my “apostles” present, and he’s without backup! Are you fucking Down Syndrome'd, or what? Christ and his crew begin closing in on Anon, as he remains calm leaning up against the pillar. Suddenly, members of the POA, plus other faces start showing up from behind parked cars and pillars all around the perimeter, causing Christ and his stable to halt their advances.Anon: Now, who said I didn’t have backup? Christ looks around at all of the opposition, then back at Anon, and smirks.Christ: Very well, Anon. Thank you for making things so much harder on yourself! And I’m sure that Eric here appreciates the easy advancement in the tournament! (to his crew) Let's roll. Christ and his team of heels proceed to walk towards a flashy tour bus up ahead, while the faces converge to the spot where Anon is. They all look on while the tour bus pulls away, as the scene fades to black.
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Post by Great Nodnarb on Apr 17, 2008 16:31:53 GMT -5
(The Great Nodnarb is seen riding his segway into Glendale, Arizona.)
Nodnarb: It’s hot out here. That’s not great, but I’m great. Hey, what’s going on over there.
(Nodnarb sees a couple of guys with guns trying to rob a bank.)
Nodnarb: That’s not great. People who rob banks are evil.
(Captain Courage appears.)
Courage: Did somebody say evil?
Nodnarb: That was me.
Courage: The evil villains must be stopped.
Nodnarb: You’re my tag team partner this week aren’t you.
Courage: As a matter of fact, I am.
Nodnarb: Why is there a sock on your hand?
Courage: Why do you wear a mask?
Nodnarb: Touché.
Courage: You know what great people like us do when there is a robbery.
Nodnarb: Yeah, run away.
Courage: Why you are a great coward.
Nodnarb: Yeah, but I’m not stupid. Those guys have guns.
Courage: Yes, but I invented guns. Guns can’t stop me.
Nodnarb: Dude, you are crazier than I am.
Courage: Hey, where did you get that segway. That thing is nice.
Nodnarb: No, it is great and I got it at a yard sale.
Courage: Now, we need to figure out a way to stop these villains just like how we will stop iSav.
Nodnarb: I got it. We run away and let the cops take care of it.
Courage: The cops are worthless compared to me.
Nodnarb: You know what I just figured out.
Courage: What?
Nodnarb: The robbers have already left.
Courage: Well, we have to chase them down.
Nodnarb: Can’t we just let them leave.
Courage: Are you sure you are great? Great people don’t let villains get away.
Nodnarb: Are you questioning my greatness?
Courage: Maybe I am.
Nodnarb: Okay. How about we have a little competition? Let’s see how super you are. First person to catch the bad guys will win.
Courage: Fine, but I warn you. I invented every single way of capturing bad guys.
Nodnarb: Hey, look over there. There is a cat stuck in a tree.
Courage: Where?
(Nodnarb heads after the bad guys on his segway.)
Courage: He tricked me.
(Back to Nodnarb chasing bad guys.)
Nodnarb: These are the only bank robbers I know that try to get away on foot.
(Nodnarb catches up to the robbers and launches himself off the segway onto the robbers.)
Nodnarb: That’s right. I’m greater than you robbers.
(The robbers point their guns at Nodnarb.)
Nodnarb: Fuck.
Robber: One word and we’ll blow your fucking head off.
(All of a sudden you see Captain Courage flying from a wire off the top of a building.)
Robber: What the hell?
(The robber shoots Courage’s wire and he falls to the ground by Nodnarb.)
Courage: My powers must have screwed up for a second.
Robber: Shut up or we’ll shoot you both.
Courage: Your guns can’t kill me.
Robber: (Points gun at Courage’s head.) You want to bet on it.
Nodnarb: Courage, I think you better shut up.
Robber: Did I say you could talk? Who would have thought? A superhero and a power ranger both tried to stop us.
Courage: Why doesn’t the other robber talk?
Robber: He doesn’t feel like it, but he will be happy to pull the trigger and put you away.
(Unbeknownst to the robbers, I crackhead had stolen their money.)
Robber: Now, we are going to take our money. (Looks down to see the money is gone.) What the hell?
Nodnarb: That crackhead has the money.
Courage: Let’s get him.
(Nodnarb, Courage, and the two robbers chase after the crackhead.)
Crackhead: You can’t catch me.
(They finally corner the crackhead in an alley.)
Robber: Give us our money or we will kill you.
Crackhead: I just wanna sell some crack. I got a family to feed.
Robber: Give us the money now.
Crackhead: Please don’t shoot. I’ll suck your dick if you let me keep the money.
Robber: As tempting as that may sound, we want our money.
Nodnarb: I knew you two robbers were gay.
Robber: No, we aren’t.
Nodnarb: Then explain to me why both of you robbers are wearing all pink.
Robber: It’s fashionable.
Nodnarb: No, it’s gay. I bet there is a good reason the other guy doesn’t talk.
Robber: That’s it. You better get out of here before I shoot you.
Nodnarb: Why would you offer to let us get away? I bet those guns are fake.
Robber: No, they’re not.
Nodnarb: If the guns are real, then shoot Courage in the leg.
Courage: What was that?
Nodnarb: Relax, Courage. You’re a superhero. It won’t hurt you.
Courage: You are absolutely right. Nothing can hurt me.
Nodnarb: So why don’t you robbers shoot him already.
Robber: Well, because (Breaks down into tears.) the guns are fake. We only robbed the bank so we could pay for tickets to see Vendetta Championship Wrestling.
Nodnarb: Me and Courage work for VCW. So you could have called us. We would have gotten you tickets.
Robber: You guys don’t work for VCW.
Nodnarb: Yeah, we do.
Robber: Really. Well, I must only recognize the great wrestlers.
Nodnarb: What did you say? I’m the greatest wrestler in the world. Courage, do some superhero move to him.
(Courage spins around in circles while the robbers just stare at him. The crackhead hits both robbers in the back of the head knocking them out.)
Courage: Look at that. Two more villains stopped.
Crackhead: What? You did nothing.
Courage: Nothing you say. (Courage spins around again and Nodnarb knocks out the crackhead.) Don’t question me. I’m Captain Courage.
Nodnarb: Courage, I think we make a pretty good team. Let’s go stop some VCW villains.
(Scene fades to black.)
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Post by Eric Ares on Apr 17, 2008 21:23:00 GMT -5
Some days I hate to be me. I mean, I’m world famous, I make amazing money, I sleep with more women than is recommended or healthy, I drink, I gamble, I do pretty much everything the bible says not to with a smile. I am by far the happiest person I know. Yet some days I absolutely hate to be me. You see today, today the unthinkable happened. Something that in all my years of living has never happened to me. You see, I was at a bar just like any bar I had ever been at before. I was drinking and laughing for a while when I saw her. Now you all know me, all girls look about the same to me. They all carry a sign saying insert penis here on the front and the back. But this girl, she was something special maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was the tequila but this girl utterly captivated me. So being the suave man that I am I walked over and told the guy she was with to take a hike. Now I won’t go into the boring details but when I started to compare his families lineage with that of the blue whale mated with a sloth he walked away leaving me alone with the girl. The girl however was not impressed at what I had done to her boyfriend and proceeded to yell at me. As Mr. Dickless will tell you I will sit there and grin while you yell and wait for my moment to strike, which is what I did with her. So when she took a moment to catch her breath I smiled that lady killing smile of mine and used an Eric Ares original, no matter what that bastard that wrote Hitch says. “How else was I supposed to get you away from that guy?” Now by logic there were a shit load of ways, I could have asked her for one, I could have done anything actually because I am that much better than he was, but none would have been as fun as sending him home feeling like his ass had been violated without ever taking down his pants. That and no matter what I had done, by saying I did it all for her I made her feel special and this my friends is what we call breaking the ice.....before we break the vagoo. So we proceed to the bar, and I will not lie I was hanging off every word she said. Not only was she gorgeous but she was smart, witty, and probably more knowledgeable about wrestling than half the roster. One thing lead to another and before long we ventured to the nearest bathroom stall, female of course they don’t piss on the seats, and started to.....well I’m sure at least one of you knows. With the preliminaries like bra, panties, and forgetting her name out of the way we moved to the main course....and this my friends is where things went downhill for our friendly neighbourhood hero, myself. See I have this thing that I like girls to do before we get to the act itself that I like to call “Sucketh on the Ares”. It’s like sucking on a tootsies pop, but using my penis instead. I got myself all psyched up for it and then she said it.... “No” I had to get her to repeat herself several times before the word registered, it’s not something I am used to or like. I asked her why not and she said she just didn’t do that. What a fucking tease, you all do that, don’t ever tell dirty lies like that again you fucking whore. Ahem, sorry about that, got a little carried away. Anyway I gathered my clothing, snapped a few shots on my cell phone for later revenge use and walked out. Yes, I grabbed another girl while in my underwear and got what I wanted in the next stall over, but that isn’t the point. Behind my strong brash facade I am very delicate man. Her saying those words hurt me, hurt me alot. I mean, how could she, how could she toy with me like that and leave me unfulfilled. Did she not even think of what I might feel from this. I can’t... That.... .....sniff.... ....... I’m sorry I just get a little emotional about this. .......... ........ Fooled yet? Seriously if you thought any part of that story after the no was true you are a complete and utter fucking moron. No girl says no to Eric Ares, if you don’t understand that please proceed to your doctor and asked to be sterolized you don’t deserve to ever EVER create a new life that will be dependent on you and your trailer trash wife to not only raise it but help it understand what is right. Something you obviously don’t know. She gave me what I wanted and then some, we all know she did. Moving right along now that I have wasted some of your life for my own amusement. This has still been the worst day ever, but for a far more serious reason. For the first time ever VCW has pitted an opponent against me I have no idea how to train for. How do you train for someone who has no defining characteristics that we know of? How do I fight the anonymous? Wait.....that’s just it, he tries to hide from the shadows as he accomplishes his goals, I know who to talk to in order to defeat Anon. It was always so obvious! xXx “Hello my name is Bill, and I am an alcoholic.” The man standing at the podium facing ten other people says at the Greenwood Nova Scotia meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. “Hello Bill” responds nine of them as the one in the back only tilts his head farther down to avoid being looked at, very suspicious indeed if that is what you are thinking. “I’ve been clean for nine years now” Bill says as a few people clap “and every day I thank the lord for the strength to stay clean. Everytime I drive past the beer store it’s a struggle not to turn in and drown my sorrows. But thanks to the lord, and you people, I haven’t let a lick of liquor past these lips and I never will” Bill steps down almost in tears as a new person steps up to the podium. “Hello my name is Robb and I am an al.....” he is cut off by the door next to the podium being slammed open and a somewhat inebriated Eric Ares stumbles in. “Sir, this is a private mee....” the man, Robb, is cut off yet again as Eric pushes him off the stage and staggers up to the podium. “Hello, my name is Eric and I love booze.”“Sir, please get down or I will be forced to call the police.” “Just a minute, I just, I just want to ask something first?” Eric says stumbling over his words “Alright sir, but just for a moment” says Robb the defacto leader of the alchies. “Why do you guys want to be anonymous?”Robb takes a moment to think about it, looking around the room for suggestions before speaking. “Well because we are afraid. We don’t want people to know about our stigma and ridicule us for it. Here we are private and can console and help one other with our private struggle. If it all became public we would have to deal with everyone knowing about our fight and getting in the way of it.” “So, you’re saying you are a coward?”“No, I am saying that we don’t want others to know our plight so that we can live every day normal lives.” “What the FUCK am I going to learn about being anonymous from a bunch of chicken shitless cowards!? You people are more useless than giving Colt Conrad a fucking chemistry set, and at least he is fucking useful to see what not to mix. I can’t beat Anon by talking to you fuckers, now leave my sight!”“THIS IS OUR MEETING PLACE! LET’S THROW HIM OUT BYES!” “YEAH!” “FUCK YA!” As the crowd starts to converge on our hero Eric decides now is a good time to have that last drink in case he doesn’t make it out of here alive. Reaching into his back pocket he pulls out the Pride of Nova Scotia Alexander Keith’s and opens it. Taking a deep swig he looks back down and sees that the mob has stopped all now staring intently at the beer. All except the man in the black hoodie who hasn’t moved yet. “Likes that don’tcha, who’s a good drunkard. You are, yes you are.” Ares mocks before throwing the bottle towards the mob. Like a pack of rabid dogs they turn on one another, each trying to grab a taste of that beautiful home-grown brew. Ares no longer worried about being murdered notices the man in the back slowly leaving, trying to be unnoticed. Never one to let people not get pissed on Ares bounces off the stage with the step of a much more sober man and rips the hood off the man’s head before standing in shock. “CHRIST! You’re in AA!”The evil owner of VCW just looked back at the star with his cool evil eyes before hissing “You didn’t see anything if you know what is good for your job.” and stepping out of the room. Everything fades away as Eric Ares cackles like the drunken man he is. xXx Well that was a fucking waste of my time. God dammit I need to stop drinking, how I ever thought I would learn anything from those guys I have no fucking clue. Sure they want to be anonymous, but they aren’t wrestlers, hell I probably could have taken those nine guys by myself. All I learned was that to be anonymous is to be a fucking coward, no help. Can’t believe Christ is a quitter though, real shame. Fuck now who do I learn how to wrestle a person who no one knows.....oh.....oh wait I’ve got it. This will be perfect. It just has to....done.....you all expected something else didn’t you? xXx “Shitassfuckingcrankyasswarthogstealingassraper!” says the only man capable of stringing that many curse words together in one breath, Jonathan Dunn, self appointed hero of the intraweb. “I swear to fuckassgod that I will shove my foot so far up your ass that you’ll taste my soles if you ever touch my hog again!” “Well, that’s going on youtube.” A voice from the doorway says. Dunn looks away from the television screen in his locker room to the door where a very smug Eric Ares is standing holding his video phone towards the action. “What the fuck do you want dickstain.” “Came to talk dickless wonder if you aren’t too busy jacking it to my promo tapes again.”“Why the asshitfuck would I want to talk to your arrogant ass?” “Because I might help you with your tourettes?”“Fuck you.” “Ah John, I’ve missed our talks. You see, I’ve got a small problem and I think you are just the one to help me with it.”“And why the assrapingdonkeypunch would I want to help you. Last I heard you and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye. Hate each other was the term I caught on the last forum.” “Because it will give you time to try and find a chink in my verbal armor and get some much needed revenge. That and you’ll have the leverage of knowing I the great and powerful Eric Ares needed your help at, well, anything. Finally, because if you don’t people are going to know just how much you hate it when people ‘touch your hog’ all over the intrawebz. Hard to be a hero if they know you don’t like to hit that I’ve heard.”Dunn thinks it over for a moment before turning off the Xbox as he was in the process of firing rockets at the stolen warthog. Yes, he is enough of a geek to be able to keep playing and hold a conversation at the same time. “Alright asswipe, what do you want?” “I want to know more about this group you work for, anonymous?”“I’m not going to tell you anything about what we do!” “Oh fuck off buddy, the nutsack is half full not empty. I don’t want to know who you guys are or what you are planning. I want to know more about the name.”“Anonymous?” “Yeah, why anonymous? Of all the names you could have chosen to strike fear into the heart of Tom Cruise your group chose that. Why?”“Because that is what we are. We are the faces of the people who oppose the farce that is Scientology. We do not have names because with names they could hunt us down and stop us. We don’t let them know who we are because not only does it not matter, other than we oppose them, but because we are faceless we can't be defeated. We can be found, hunted down, and stopped. But if we hide who we are they can never stop all of us.” “So you are saying you don’t believe enough in your cause to stand up and let people know you do?”“No we do it because we believe too much in it to be stopped. By not letting them know our names and who we are, they can never defeat us. We will be eternal, we will be anonymous.” “Sad as it sounds, that actually helped me. Thanks Dunn.”“Wow, this is pretty close to a civilized conversation.” “Yeah, we might even be friends now, remind me to put whatever nut you have remaining on my Christmas Card list.”“Fuck you douchebag.” Eric leaves the room with a laugh as Dunn turns back on his Halo and attempts to earn back his stolen hog. xXx Now I understand. I think Anon, I finally understand you. You are hiding obviously, but you are absolutely terrified people will find out what you are hiding, hence the name, the mask, the everything being non distinct about you. Because if you had a name then people could find out what you are hiding and punish you for it. They could take it out on everyone and everything you have ever loved, preferably that assholish wanna be champion Hostyle. For fucks sake tell him to take on someone with actual talent before saying he deserves a belt. Moving along though your ability to hide everything you are is your greatest strength. Because I can’t prepare for you, I can’t know what to expect from you, you are an unknown. The greatest fear most men have is that which they don’t understand. Sadly for you, not only do I understand you now, but I am not most men. No matter how unknown you are you are nothing when compared to the beacon of greatness I represent. Because the unknown can only survive when no light is shone on it, and I am the biggest damned spotlight this company has. Being unknown is also your greatest weakness. Because people only fear the unknown, they can never beat the unknown, as long as it remains unknown. As soon as we give something a name, a face, a label it becomes familiar and beatable. So I am going to label you Anon. You are just next in the line of victims to have stepped in the ring with Eric Ares. At 1.3 I will defeat you not because you wish to hide, but because I WANT to be known. I WANT to be known as the best, I NEED to be known as the champion, and I WILL defeat anyone unknown or not that stands in my way. Prepare to be known Anon, because this defeat won’t just knock you out of the tournament. It will label you for as long as you live. And some day, when you have lost to me, and found you do not measure as a wrestler you will look to the stage and me standing at the pinnacle of this wrestling world, the best there ever was. And you, you Anon. You will fade away from that spotlight into the dark never to be seen again. You will truly become. Anonymous.
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Cain Ravid
Lower Midcarder
"Not so; if anyone kills Cain, he will suffer vengeance seven times over."
Posts: 106
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Post by Cain Ravid on Apr 18, 2008 0:11:15 GMT -5
Vendetta Championship Wrestling 1.3 Live from the Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Eric Ares vs. Anon Ehmus
Adam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair Bain
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Cain Ravid vs. Sir Feyd Brisbane
Tag Team Chaos Sick Fixx and Fytor vs. Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb vs. Chris Austin and iSav vs. 13 and Ribz
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Exodus vs. Magnum
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Thomas Hookton vs. John /d/unn
Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ
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Post by The Pyro on Apr 18, 2008 3:37:08 GMT -5
Voting for everything here.[/Not paying attention to Christ] But don't worry, votes may change up until the deadline. Vendetta Championship Wrestling 1.3 Live from the Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3Eric Ares vs. Anon EhmusAdam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair BainSeraphim Falls Tournament Round 3Cain Ravid vs. Sir Feyd BrisbaneTag Team ChaosSick Fixx and Fytor vs. Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb vs. Chris Austin and iSav vs. 13 and Ribz Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3Exodus vs. Magnum Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3Thomas Hookton vs. John /d/unnColt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ PLUS, Gregory Best addresses Adam Wylde, Andrew Carpenter debuts Ring of Fire, and just who exactly is this mysterious voice?
PROMO ONLY until Thursday, April 17 11:59 PM PST. VOTING AND PROMO until Saturday, April 19 11:59 PST.
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Post by Super 'Mella Bear on Apr 18, 2008 8:11:50 GMT -5
Eric Ares vs. Anon Ehmus Adam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair Bain Cain Ravid vs. Sir Feyd Brisbane Sick Fixx and Fytor vs. Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb vs. Chris Austin and iSav vs. 13 and Ribz Exodus vs. Magnum Thomas Hookton vs. John /d/unn Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ
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Mr. Thomas Hookton
Lower Midcarder
If Heaven Rides Against Us, Then Gods Be Damned
Posts: 117
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Post by Mr. Thomas Hookton on Apr 18, 2008 8:57:27 GMT -5
Vendetta Championship Wrestling 1.3 Live from the Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Eric Ares vs. Anon Ehmus
Adam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair Bain
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Cain Ravid vs. Sir Feyd Brisbane
Tag Team Chaos Sick Fixx and Fytor vs. Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb vs. Chris Austin and iSav vs. 13 and Ribz
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Exodus vs. Magnum
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Thomas Hookton vs. John /d/unn
Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ
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Post by Eric Ares on Apr 18, 2008 10:56:48 GMT -5
Vendetta Championship Wrestling 1.3 Live from the Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Eric Ares vs. Anon Ehmus
Adam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair Bain
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Cain Ravid vs. Sir Feyd Brisbane
Tag Team Chaos Sick Fixx and Fytor vs. Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb vs. Chris Austin and iSav vs. 13 and Ribz
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Exodus vs. Magnum
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Thomas Hookton vs. John /d/unn
Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ
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Austin
Lower Midcarder
Posts: 172
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Post by Austin on Apr 18, 2008 11:31:40 GMT -5
Eric Ares
Chris Austin and iSav
Exodus
Thomas Hookton
Cain Ravid
Triple Threat #1: Alistair S. Bain
Triple Threat #2: Romeo McCoy
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Post by Sir Feyd Brisbane on Apr 18, 2008 13:01:25 GMT -5
Vendetta Championship Wrestling 1.3 Live from the Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 [glow=red,2,300]Eric Ares[/glow]
Adam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair Bain
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 [glow=red,2,300]Sir Feyd Brisbane[/glow]
Tag Team Chaos [glow=red,2,300]Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb [/glow]
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 [glow=red,2,300]Magnum[/glow]
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 [glow=red,2,300]Thomas Hookton[/glow]
Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ
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cc
Developmental Talent
Posts: 37
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Post by cc on Apr 18, 2008 16:06:03 GMT -5
Vendetta Championship Wrestling 1.3 Live from the Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Eric Ares vs. Anon Ehmus
Adam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair Bain
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Cain Ravid vs. Sir Feyd Brisbane
Tag Team Chaos Sick Fixx and Fytor vs. Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb vs. Chris Austin and iSav vs. 13 and Ribz
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Exodus vs. Magnum
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Thomas Hookton vs. John /d/unn
Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ
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Post by Mortus on Apr 18, 2008 16:21:01 GMT -5
Vendetta Championship Wrestling 1.3 Live from the Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Eric Ares
Adam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair Bain
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Sir Feyd Brisbane
Tag Team Chaos Chris Austin and iSav
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Magnum
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 John /d/unn
Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ
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Post by Great Nodnarb on Apr 18, 2008 22:06:34 GMT -5
Vendetta Championship Wrestling 1.3 Live from the Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Eric Ares vs. Anon Ehmus
Adam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair Bain
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Cain Ravid vs. Sir Feyd Brisbane
Tag Team Chaos Sick Fixx and Fytor vs. Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb vs. Chris Austin and iSav vs. 13 and Ribz
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Exodus vs. Magnum
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Thomas Hookton vs. John /d/unn
Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ
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Post by kennithnoisewater on Apr 18, 2008 23:52:19 GMT -5
Vendetta Championship Wrestling 1.3 Live from the Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Eric Ares vs. Anon Ehmus
Adam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair Bain
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Cain Ravid vs. Sir Feyd Brisbane
Tag Team Chaos Sick Fixx and Fytor vs. Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb vs. Chris Austin and iSav vs. 13 and Ribz
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Exodus vs. Magnum
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Thomas Hookton vs. John /d/unn
Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ
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Exodus
Lower Midcarder
A mystery wrapped within an enigma
Posts: 112
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Post by Exodus on Apr 19, 2008 9:15:36 GMT -5
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Anon Ehmus
Alistair Bain
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Sir Feyd Brisbane
Tag Team Chaos Chris Austin and iSav
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Exodus
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Thomas Hookton
Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ
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Post by Craig Christ on Apr 19, 2008 12:32:20 GMT -5
THE TESTAMENT OF CRAIG CHRIST CHAPTER ONE: THE FIRST COMING How Craig Christ came to be. The room was filled to the brim with men. Each and every one of them seemed a carbon copy of the other: black tuxedo like suits, all well shaved with short trimmed hair. One of the men pressed a button on a remote and the projector at the front of the screen lighted up. The projector was showing a picture of one Craig Christ, nee Ryans. “It is to my understanding that the man poses a threat to society”, the speaker said. “We have all seen what happened in the Texas Bank incident. We know the danger he poses to society. Yet our evidence is rudimentary at best and what we need with someone like this is conclusiveness above all else. “For those of you newly assigned to the case, allow me to give you a brief psychological profile. The man in the slide is one Craig Ryans, better known by his socialite moniker Craig Christ. Born into a middle-class family, 28 years ago, he is the son of former officer of the Wisconsin Police Department, Duncan Ryans.” The man paused for a second to catch his breath, before pushing forward. “It has come to our knowledge that he was one of three siblings. Amongst those others, he had a sister called Jennifer, but more noticeably than that was his brother.” Click. The lights flashed as the screen changed. “Allow me to direct your attention towards one Ken Ryans. Our history with Ken Ryans is well documented and I trust all of you took your time to familiarize yourself with the memo I sent out about him.” “Now, evidence points towards the fact that Duncan Ryans was a masochist. This comes directly from psychological testimony we extracted from Dr. Frau, the psychologist of Ken Ryans. The testimony revealed that Duncan was a drunk who focused his attention mostly on the Ryans’ mother, Alexa. For a while, at least. You see, he later started shifting his attention to Ken Ryans as well. From what we gather, Craig does not remember much of those years. However, it seems that he developed a kind of father complex. He felt that his father was justified in the beatings, he felt that his mother and Ken deserved them.” “As Ken Ryans obstinacy grew and he became more and more opposing towards his father, Craig Ryans showed obvious signs of jealousy. He was tired of his brother constantly getting the hero treatment from his sister and mother. This, my fellow agents, is a textbook case of sibling rivalry which grew to a sibling vendetta. Ultimately, the mother was killed by an extra sadistic beating that Duncan Ryans performed. Because of his position in the Police Force, he managed to convince everyone that it was an accident. We know otherwise, but we cannot prosecute, also for lack of evidence.” “It seems everything is because of lack of evidence”, one of the men remarked. “Perhaps so, but I ask you to please retain comments until such a time as the profiling is done. Now, at that time, Jennifer Ryans ran away. Through investigation, we have concluded that she now resides in Memphis, Tennessee and is the mother of three children. Happily married. I’m glad the story turned out alright for someone. Ken Ryans went off to join the NAVY. But before he did, it seems that he threatened Duncan Ryans with something, that evidently caused the man to flee. That leaves us with little Craig, who’se hatred of his brother seemed to have reached a boiling point at that stage. His brother had taken all the attention, his place of living and his father away, at least in Craig’s eyes.” “Social Services appointed custody of Craig Ryans to his grandfather, Dillan Ryans. We will skip past the childhood of Craig, for nothing of interest appears here. Except for the fact that he was a born leader and a very popular figure in school. His scathing remarks earned him instant respect, because we all know how schools are.” “This is where it all starts to get interesting. Dillan Ryans in 1998, when Craig was 18. It appears the old man had rather a lot of money invested in stocks, which turned out to be worth an awful lot. Craig Ryans found himself rich overnight. Fresh out of school, he decided to tell us our story. And it’s quite an interesting story… *** Craig Ryans sat on the leather couch in the club, drinking the Vodka the only way it was meant to be drank – On the rocks. Across from him sat a young Asian man with an expression of interest on his face. “Mr. Ryans, you do know that the risks in this venture you propose are extraordinary”, the Asian said. Craig took a long sip from the glass before looking up once more. “Of course the risks are extraordinary”, Craig replied. “I might even call it extraordinary! However, I have realized that to support my extravagant lifestyle and make my war with the world as a socialite, I will need a constant supply of cash floating in. My grandfather’s money, a few million, will get me far but not far enough. I want to make sure that I’m sorted through life. This seems like the easiest maneuver.” “I see.” The Asian cupped his hands together. “We can supply you with the equipment you need, Mr. Craig. But it’s going to cost you a hefty amount. Seven million dollars. That covers everything.” Craig whistled. Seven million was just about all the capital he currently possessed. Yet he needed this. He was a betting man and he was willing to wager he could pull the operation off. Then the seven million would be small fry. “Agreed”, Craig said. “The seven million will find its way to you via the normal route.” The Asian lifted his eyes. “No bank transfers!” the Asian said, rather forcefully. Craig smiled. “Of course not”, Craig replied. “I would never do anything as traceable. Bank transfers are out of the question.” Standing up, the Asian extended his hand to Craig. “Pleasure doing business with you then, Mr. Ryans.” “The pleasure’s all mine.” As the man made his way out of the club, Craig dialed a number on his cellphone. A gruff voice on the other end of the line picked up. “You got Bobby”, the voice said. “Bobby, do the drop. Seven million.” Silence. Then a long whistle followed. “Look, Bobby, I don’t have time for your sarcasm. Seven million is small fry. If we pull this off, we’ll be set for life. Just do it.” “You’re the boss”, Bobby replied and the line went dead. *** “Let us stop here for a moment”, the agent said. “The Asian has been identified as one Jet Guando, famed supplier of weapons to Iraq, Iran, Zimbabwe and just about any other country where tyrants have operated. This whole scene was found by chance when we asked to review the security footage from the club.” “We could arrest him on that!” one agent shouted. “On what?” the lead agent replied sardonically. “Socializing with an Asian American citizen? Nothing incriminating happened there. It’s all hearsay up until this point. Now, we suspect that the goal of this was to buy weapons and explosives from Mr. Guando. We believe they were used two weeks later in Texas. Everybody in this room knows what happened in that event, although I know as government operatives we would rather forget. Allow me to reiterate… *** The Ford Cortina kept strictly within the speed limit. Craig Ryans was not normally a conformist to the highway rules, but he knew that if they were pulled over now, there would be no reprieve. The car was filled to the brim with US Army edition M4’s, C4 explosive devices and other deadly weapons. Driving left at an intersection, he pulled up in front of the large building. All of the men were wearing facial masks and SWAT style bullet proof vests. The risk of detection was mitigated by the tinted windows the car afforded. “Everyone knows the plan”, Craig said. “We move in, take control, get the cash and move out. It’s as simple as that.” The three men in the car all nodded, their faces impassive although they were all nervous. The only one who felt no fear inside was Craig. He disdained law enforcement and could not for the life of him see any risk in fighting with them. Craig eyed his digital watch, seeing the seconds counting down and at the stroke of twelve o’clock, they stepped out and headed for the bank doors. No attention was focused on them whatsoever, and people went about their affairs normally. Craig held the M4 towards the roof and fired off a shot. “Hello everyone”, Craig shouted. “If you want to live, you will get down now! GET DOWN!” One of the security guards started pulling his gun, but Craig pointed the M4 at him. “Don’t try it son. Drop the fucking gun now!” The security guard hesitated, before finally putting the gun on the floor and kicking it over. The rest of the people were whimpering, but oddly silent, the force of Craig’s commands ringing through to them. Craig headed towards one of the female tellers. “Give me all the money you have in these registers and put it in this bag! Now!” The woman seemed on the verge of a breakdown, but did as she was told. When the cash registers were emptied, Craig walked towards the safe. “Bobby, get over here and bring those C4 explosives!” Craig shouted. Bobby quickly came running up and put a bag down on the floor. Both men took the bombs and started laying them out strategically on the bank safe. Various switches were pressed and they rank back into the hallway, waiting. The explosion was deafening. Various pieces of crumbled masonry shot past and the air seemed thick with fog as the dust clouds blew around. Finally the clouds had calmed enough for them to see and Craig uttered a string of curses. The vault was still intact. It was the VEX-7000 model, made to withstand the most enormous pressure. Apart from a few scratches, their explosives had not seemed to put a dent in it. “FUCK!” Craig shouted. “Craig, we need to go”, Bobby said, hearing the distant approach of sirens. “Fuck!” Craig repeated, but this time with less venom. Finally, he and Bobby made their way out, joined by their two accomplices. They got into the Cortina and sped away. As they drove, Craig looked sullen and now the charisma had seemed to drain out of his voice. “Fuck.” *** “The intial bank robbery made away with some $8000. Craig Ryans and his crew would have made a loss of $6 999 992 on this deal, which would have been very ironic. They escaped the police. Craig Ryans seemed destined to be ruined, but we all know what happened next… The most daring and provocative maneuver ever taken against law enforcement agencies anywhere.” *** “At least we weren’t arrested, man”, Bobby said. Craig regarded him with a scornful look. “Just shut up and drive”, Craig said. Bobby gave his ‘nobody-appreciates-me’ look and held out his hand to adjust the radio. He turned the knob and then heard the matter of fact tone that news reporters used and decided to listen. “The gang is said to have come into the bank and made away with eight thousand dollars, which would barely cover the C4 explosives they attempted to open the safe with. Apparently, the attempt failed at blowing open the safe. If only the criminals knew that the man with the master key was actually inside the bank at that time. Even now, with the help of police, he is surveying the damage that the men have done.” Bobby looked over at Craig. “Turn around”, Craig commanded. Without any further commands, Bobby pulled up the handbreak and slid the car around. ‘This time will be different’, Craig thought. *** The Cortina stopped in the same spot as it had before. The doors opened almost instantly and the four men walked into the bank once more. As they came in, police officers stared, confusion showing on their faces. “Get down!” Craig shouted. “If any of you so much as think of going for you gun, I will mow you down. This is an army issue weapon and it can do a lot more damage than your pistols!” He turned his head towards his crew. “Take care of them.” Craig ran towards a man standing infront of the safe. “You the man with the master key?” he asked. The man looked up and nodded, terror showing in his eyes. “Open the safe”, Craig said. “Open the safe now or I will fucking kill you!” The little man nodded once more and took the card out of his pocket. He swiped it through two points and then pressed his finger onto one of the slots. The locks unclicked. Craig walked in and eyed the money. This would set him up for life. *** “That concludes the events of the Texas Bank Heist. I think this rather proves the daring Craig Ryans has and the kind of threat he poses to law enforcement. He returned to the scene of the crime on an impulse. Surely this must show an unstable mental mind.” The agents laughed. “Now, Craig Ryans would be expected to lie low after that, but he didn’t. He started investing in anything illegal that he could manage. Dog fighting, Prostitution rings, Drug trafficking, Contraband smuggling, Professional Assassinations. The list goes on and on. And above all of these you’ll find the ring-leader Craig Christ, untraceable. We suppose it was this that called for his alias surname to come into question. The man has a God complex and what better way was there to put yourself next to the gods than adopting one of the most popular figures surname?” “Craig Christ is now a multi billionaire. He has criminal organizations in every significant quarter of the world. He is the Kingpin of all Kingpins. And we don’t have a single thing to convict him on. Even his tax evasion is perfect.” “Which brings us to Vendetta Wrestling Federation. It was his latest venture. Vendetta Wrestling Federation was started up as a public company. A Mr. Vizzini bought a large amount of the company at the start, about 49%. The remaing 51% was bought by Mr. Craig Christ. I think its all a front. He’s using this to mask something. But we cannot be certain. Thank you ladies and gentleman, that concludes our profile. My name is Jack Ryans.” *** Ken Ryans watched the footage that was playing in the FBI headquarters. It had been easy to have the surveillance set up. The Ryans Administration company afforded him a lot of advantages. ‘Jack Ryans’, he thought to himself, my half brother. ‘I should look into this man. He might pose a threat at a later stage. However… Craig.’ He thought back to the small child he had protected and how that protection had created something that hatred could not begin to describe. A knock on the door made Ken look up, as George, his personal assistant entered. “George, find me anything and everything you can find on Craig Christ. I am rather interested in his latest business endeavour.” *** Craig stared the camera, which had just shown him all the events that had transpired up until this point in his life. He turned towards the other camera, watching Ken Ryans’ reaction to it. He was on top of it all. Both his brothers would not begin to reach the level of acclaim he would. In the comfort of the VCW Headquarters VIP section, he laughed out loud. The laugh seemed evil. At his side stood Exodus, his protégée. “Craig Christ, criminal mastermind, the messiah of the world”, he said to Exodus. “My brothers will be taken care of in due time. Now, you know they posed certain questions about me and VCW in there. Allow me to explain to you, young apprentice, what the answers are.” “I bought VCW because what I really desire is fame”, Craig began. “But also, wrestling federations attract a certain… criminal element. Men in need of drugs and pains. The profitable future of my industries lies in drugs.” Exodus’ face remained impassive. “Steroids are a lucrative, fine piece of capital”, Craig continued, unperturbed by Exodus’ lack of interest. Allow me to show you something on the tape. Craig pressed a button on the remote, showing Romeo McCoy meeting a man in the parking lot. The man held out a packet of prescription pain-pills, which Romeo took, looking around nervously. Finally, Romeo handed over a wad of cash and both men parted their ways. “You see! Publically, I appear outraged against the senseless use of pain medication and steroids! Publically, I appear appalled. But actually, it is me that is providing these men with the medication to dope themselves and further surrender their impulses to the criminal system. You see, my pills, their money, the system works.” “Which brings me to the importance of this match”, Craig continued. “Romeo and Colt Conrad. Me and Mitchell are on the same page. This will basically be a handicap match. We will pick apart our main opposition, hurting him so badly that he will become even more dependant upon the pills we provide. Ergo, we receive more capital and eventually, we own our customers.” “First chaos, then control”, Exodus replied finally, breaking his silence. “Exactly!” Craig exclaimed. “And if there’s one thing that Hollywood has always gotten wrong, it is this. THE BAD GUYS ALWAYS WIN.*** “How sure are you that you can direct Colt to work with me and eliminate the bothersome McCoy?” Craig asked. “Of course”, Mitchell responded. “The important fact here is that we should just teach McCoy a lesson. Don’t cross the boss.” “Of course”, Mitchell repeated. “Yes, well…” “Allow me to direct your attention elsewhere. Colt will help you, but it is only an alliance at the end of the day. Not permanent friendship. We realize that by aligning ourselves with you we could get certain benefits. Namely title shots.” “We’ll have to wait and see”, Craig began, but he was interrupted by Mitchell once more. “No, Mr. Craig, we won’t wait nor see”, Mitchell went on. “An alliance will only remain an alliance as long as there is a mutual interest. I do believe that you would find it greatly beneficial to remember that. Colt may be a retard, but he is a very powerful retard at that. And he eats out of my hand. Whatever I tell him goes. And if I didn’t make the fact very, very clear to him that you are to be his ally in the match, he might misinterpret the situation.” “Like I said, we’ll have to wait and see”, Craig said again irritably, “how well Colt works with me here. Romeo is the main target. Make sure he understands that and make sure that I win… and everything will work out. He’ll get his title shots. As for you, well, we might even need a Co-General Manager.” At this, Mitchell’s eyes lighted up. “Really now?” he asked. “I daresay I’m rather intrigued by that notion.” “Of course, it’s totally dependant upon the nature of this battle”, Craig said dismissively. “I think we both understand what’s at stake.” “Certainly”, Mitchell said and stood up, walking towards the door. As Mitchell exited, Romeo McCoy stepped in and glanced at the midget with a smirk. “Romeo McCoy”, Craig said. “I’ve been wondering about you. What to do with Romeo McCoy. Violator of our little wellness policy.” “Shut up Craig”, Romeo said, taking a seat. “Those drugs are prescription medicine…” “But in violation of our wellness policy nevertheless”, Craig interrupted him. “I set up the documents just today.” “You probably found out about my prescriptions and then specifically added clauses towards those brands I use”, Romeo said. “I know how you operate.” “Do you now?” Craig asked, apparently amused. “You know what you are to me, Romeo? You’re nothing but a product line. A product with a limited amount of popularity that I can continuously stack the odds against until you either break or become a champion. I’m acting in your best interest here…” “Hah. Don’t make me laugh.” Craig’s eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry, but nothing I said was meant for amusement. VCW is mine, I’m the General Manager, I call the shots. The Faces of Anonymity can rot while they remain anonymous, I have much bigger plans for myself. You see, I’m not going to act on the wellness policy. I’m going to allow you to fight. And I want to fight you. I want to break you. I want to let you rot in the hellish fact that you amount to nothing and in my eyes you will always be nothing.” “I won’t lose Christ. I have the fans.” “And I don’t need the fans. Now leave.” Romeo stood up, made to say something, but thought better of it. Probably thought he stood a better chance in the ring. The last thoughts ran through Craig's mind. That’s right, THE BAD GUYS ALWAYS WIN.
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Post by Craig Christ on Apr 19, 2008 12:42:55 GMT -5
Vendetta Championship Wrestling 1.3 Live from the Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Eric Ares vs. Anon Ehmus * My vote goes to Jose, because quite frankly, he's my bro and quite frankly, someone I consider one of my best e-friends and I always vote for him. Lol. That sounded weird. Eric, your promo was awesome so take no offense with this.
Adam Wylde vs. Ice Pik vs. Alistair Bain
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Cain Ravid vs. Sir Feyd Brisbane
Tag Team Chaos Sick Fixx and Fytor vs. Captain Courage and the Great Nodnarb vs. Chris Austin and iSav vs. 13 and Ribz
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Exodus vs. Magnum * Tough choice. I think some of this made more sense to me, since I know Exodus and some of this text was purely aimed at the informed. Magnum, your promo was awesome as well, so this was less of a choice than an informed vote.
Seraphim Falls Tournament Round 3 Thomas Hookton vs. John /d/unn
Colt Conrad vs. Romeo McCoy vs. Craig Christ[/color]
* Don't cross the boss.
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