Post by Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass on Aug 20, 2007 17:39:58 GMT -5
This is a
|. Plummeting Shards Creation .|
You may expect anything or nothing.
Think what you may,
but you're about to witness greatness.
---
Oh, oh.
I'm not sorry at all
I won't be sorry at all
I'd do it over again
Don't look so blue, my little decoy
You should've seen right through, my little decoy
You've never been so used, my little decoy
And so I'm using you, my little decoy
---
|x| Third time's the charm .. |x|
Jordan sits facing the camera in his black leather chair. It's been a while since you've seen this room. It's 'the' room, and the candles around the room dimly illuminate everything. Behind him, you can see the glass case hung upon the wall holding Jordan's Xtreme Championship, the one he'd lost in that hellacious House Of Fun match .. when he wasn't pinned. Now Calaz had the Xtreme title, so at least it was inside Serafin. Ticker had the NextGen, meaning that if Jordan won at The American Dream .. Serafin would hold all the belts.
Jordan's smile sinks into the camera like water slowly rising past your ankles and toward your knees. You're engulfed in the look painted on his face, the look of pure omniscient knowledge. His ice blue eyes drowning you slowly as the poison of his face ran past your knees and up your legs. Then .. the words like daggers threw from his soft, pink lips, aiming for your heart.
Jordan ~ Matthew Szaban .. a man of many years in this business. You've won uncountable championships and nicknames have been bestowed upon you left right and center. You have built quite a name in this business ..
Jordan blinks, and all emotion drains from his face. His lips pursed in a feral snare, he continues to speak.
Jordan ~ .. but at The American Dream, I am going to rip you of all that is you. I am going to rip away the glory of winning near forty championships. I'm going to rip away the glory of having the nickname Champion of Champions. I'm going to rip you of what you may thing is rightfully yours, the XVI World Championship.
Once again, he smiles. The poison rising ever higher, slowly making it's way toward your mouth .. and you are powerless.
Jordan ~ It is not rightfully yours, you bastard. It is mine. I have worked tirelessly in this business ever since I got here to get to this point and I'm not going to let some washed up fucking has-been beat me and take away what is MINE.
Jordan stands, but does not walk. He stands there, hands behind his back with his black trench coat draping around his knees, which are covered by black jeans. His hair falls down over his left eye as he smiles sickly into the camera.
Jordan ~ I am SICK of everyone telling me how good you are and that I should be worried. I think it's bull, and that everyone who ever lost to you, fairly, when they were at a hundred percent, didn't have what it took to be on top in this business. I do have what it takes Matt, and you will know that come The American Dream.
At The American Dream, you will be devastated when you lose. You aren't the greatest of all time, because nobody is. There will always be someone better, right? Wrong. I, Jordan Glass, along with David Calaz and Ticker .. we are the best of all time, and come The American Dream, this will be apparent.
Jordan begins to pace an oval around the floor, the camera following him. The poison stops, contact with his face breaking. You are unable to move as you feel the acidic matter eating through your clothes.
Jordan ~ You too do this name-calling game. Winged Tinker Bell? Really, Matt? That's the best you can come up with .. sad, so sad. The Championship will, and I will bet my life, be coming home with me, Matt. There is nobody you can bribe, nobody you can talk into helping you. I will win, as I always do, and you will lose .. again.
Jordan laughs as he paces, his steps slowing.
Jordan ~ You're right about one thing, we have talked far too much for far too long, and it's time to settle this and prove that I am the better of us two. World of Warcraft is fantasy, and I think that's where you're head is if you actually think you can bring me down for the one, two, three, in a fantasy.
Jordan stops, looking back into the camera .. and you can feel the poison slowly rising once more. Frozen in spot by his stare, your helpless. You ARE going to die.
Jordan ~ I talk no mumbo jumbo, I just talk intelligently. I will bring my vocabulary down a bit, so you can understand. Everybody may claim to be the man on top when you're not around, but everybody is not Jordan Glass. I will not get dropped, because I am on top. Deal with it, asshole.
Jordan takes a step forward as the poison reaches your neck. He smiles.
Jordan ~ You can't break this Glass, you never could. I am The One, not you. It was never you. I am THE perfect .. I am THE best .. I am THE only .. I am one third of THE Serafin, and I am going to strike you down because you know not what you are dealing with. You underestimate me, so you must die. Let it be known, Jordan Glass vows he will beat Szaban.
You're going to die Matt, you're going to die .. and nobody can help you. Shard's of Glass can hurt, and you'll know when you feel them rip through you ribs and when you back hits the mat, you'll hear those three seconds be counted in you ear. And then y'know what? You'll lose to me, again.
The poison begins to enter your mouth and ..
.. you wake up.
|x| .. and I'll come out on top. |x|
[Fin]
