Post by ~*The Pride of Ireland*~ on Aug 8, 2007 11:55:24 GMT -5
Scene One: Setting The Tone Again
From now on we are enemies... You and I.
I'm an outcast on the path of rebound
Everything is frail, I desolate, crush, and burn
I have chosen darkness to be my guide
War is in my heart, death is by my side
Warheart! No remains from compassion or love
Warheart! Hate your fellow as yourself
I have chosen night to be my guide
When the daylight strikes, I hide in my trench and die
I'm the cold-blooded killer who'll fuck you up!
Warheart! No remains from compassion or love
Warheart! Hate your fellow as yourself
I'm the warheart, I'm dying to win the battle I live everyday
One for all and all for me I'm an animal better set me free
The field, or what it once was, is desolate. What used to be something filled with vegetation and merriment is now….a wasteland. A burning quagmire of suffering and no refuge can be found. For miles all one could see is No Mans Land. A black hole of fear and desolation, gathering all emotions and ripping them into a vacuum until there is…nothing. Placed in this field is a man over six feet tall, broad shoulders and a piercing stare not of enchantment like his opponents, but of intimidation. He walks through the valley of the shadow of death, and looks in all directions. Even the dead have been incinerated in this hallow ground of war. So even for the company of burnt flesh, he finds none. Finally, he speaks. Something of a harsh, yet quivering tone. A mix of fear and hatred, of worry and vengeance, he talks to no one, yet he speaks as if talking to an old enemy.
Corporal Punishment:
You cannot stop the Warpath. It shows in your actions. You cannot stop this conflict. It shows in your voice. You cannot stop this pain. Its shows in your eyes. You sir, are nothing more than a coward. We were supposed to settle this. It was supposed to be a clash of titans. But no, you took the cowards way out and decided to try to end it early. You showed the fear of loss, because you would rather turn a great thing into a pier six brawl than see if Serafin really can coexist as a unit.
I know why you did it. Because for once you finally realized, that Serafin cant hack it as a team. You need outside interference. You need illegal objects. You need dirty tactics. You can win in a clean contest. You cant even win in a hardcore contest. You are afraid of loss Jordan. Your afraid that you have finally met your match and that you will no longer be undefeated. You cannot defend yourself with this fact, because every match you have been in shows evidence to the contrary. You cant hack in XVI as a Main Eventer, so you resort to cowards tactics. This week, its no holds barred. This week, its no interference. This week, you will be beaten by the Warpath. Accept it, or I will show you no mercy.
Scene Two: The Grass is always Greener…
Now there is the front to a Victorian Home in Greenbough Alabama. It is actually more modest than other Victorians, with a simple iron fence, a cobblestone walking path up to a wood and alabaster porch. Beyond a few generic wind chimes and some other accessories paramount to suburban porches, there is the same man from the field, now sitting in an old fashioned wooden rocking chair. He has an iron bucket in front of his legs as he rocks path and forth peeling a sack of potatoes. He still has that grimace on his face, his eyes etched with disgust, and his mouth contorting to the same deliverance. He talks once more, as if picking up from the conversation from earlier.
Corporal Punishment:
This is a little more homier of a setting. If I do say so myself. What you saw back there was just one of many places I have to visit every so often because my duties lie with War. Whether the Americas are involved in the conflict I must go where the action is, no matter how disgusting it may be. But to be honest, my opponent has made it a lot easier on myself the past month or so. After staring at something so wretched and pathetic for so long you begin to take a liking to ANY form of setting, as long as you don’t have to be near such filth and vile composition. But this week, I will stomach that pain. I will swallow my disgust with the extra large pills I must drain down my throat due to knowing that I will be going against a man of ill repute. But not just of bad taste, manners and morals. I will be facing a man who doesn’t seem to realize that he’s facing a threat more worthy than he thinks.
He continues to peel the vegetables, but his anger begins to show consistently as if he is imagining his opponents head as the very potato he shaves. So much so is his intensity that he ends up slicing a trickle of blood from his thumb. In a show of humanity he flinches from the cut and drops the unfinished product into the container and throws his cutting blade into the wooden floor. He stands himself up once again and looks towards the beaming sky.
Corporal Punishment:
All you can ever say is how worthless your opponents are. How they are not worthy. How no one is worthy or how no one stands a chance. Let me ask you this one question then Jordan “Bullet Proof” Glass, if we are all so pathetic and unworthy, then why are you still even here? If XVI is so puny and pathetic that no one is even in your league by stretches of miles than why waste your fucking time?! Don’t even answer that question because I know the exact response! Even if your not man enough to admit it. You stick around because you know deep in your black heart that I AM WORTHY! That there are superstars who can hang with you in the ring. Its not a matter of how many times you’ve beaten everyone, you pretentious fool!
If you think you can put the Corporal down one time, just once, and think that you have my number and that you never have to face me again, think again maggot! Its called psychology. The more times you face a man in the ring, the more you get to know about their style, which makes the matches even more entertaining with every passing contest! You fail to realize this Glass! You fail to even recognize that it takes more than just a win to take down your opponent. Unless you kill every last superstar in the back. And I mean literally kill! Not just “beaten with an inch of your life until you wish you were dead” I mean KILL!!!!!! Because if you don’t even my life this week on Side Effect, I will come back again…and again…and again…AND AGAIN…AND AGAIN…AND AGAIN!!! You will never get rid of me Jordan Glass! You will have to deal with me til the ends of time! Because even if I’m dead and buried, you will be forever haunted by the memory of the man who you simply-could-not-put-down! And you can choke on that you miserable excuse for human breath! Dismissed!!!!
Scene Three: The Nail in the Coffin
Finally, there is the XVI locker room of Warpath. A few weight benches spread across the floors. Other notable features are an altar, some claw marks on the walls, and a mini bar. Corporal Punishment is on one of the bench pressing utilities, as he presses on a generous amount of 300lbs. He is just finished counting his reps as his training music of Eye of the Tiger fades away.
Corporal Punishment:
65…66…67…68…69!
The Corporal finally finishes on his 7th set of lifting. As he takes a break by sitting up, and massages his wrists a while doing some moderate flexing to feel the burn on his arms. He looks up towards the camera, a satisfied look on his face, the first since the beginning of the segment. He then tweaks his neck a little and says his final piece.
Corporal Punishment:
You don’t have to respond to this at all Jordan. Because quite frankly, I know for a fact exactly what your going to say. It’s the same old shit over and over and over again. About how you will always be undefeated. No one can do anything about it. Serafin is forever. You aren’t worth my time. You are pathetic. You’re an old man. I used to have respect for you. But now I’m going to cripple you. Your nothing anymore. Your washed up. I am Modern Evolution. Alyssa can kick your ass. Any one of us six can kick your ass with our hands and feet tied behind our backs with blindfolds on. Blahdy Blahdy Blahdy Blahdy Blah. Did I miss anything in there Mr. Glass? Could you possibly have something else to say? For Christ sake at least I have said something new and informative with every monologue. I listen to what you say and just here the same old trash talk. What’s the deal? Where’s the old Jordan Glass who could make an experiment with science chemicals and still make it relevant and entertaining? Where’s the old Jordan Glass who could connect with his audience and whoop some ass at the same time?
I’m not going to point out anymore “Because of Serafin” lines. Because frankly, that’s cliché too. So Jordan, if you cant think of something new to say, and cant find anything new to add to this match, then don’t bother saying anything. The fans are bored with your talk. Management is bored with your talk. And frankly, I am bored with your lackluster attempts at being somebody. You haven’t had that hunger in your eyes since you won that Ultimate Assault Match. Its sad really…but I suppose that’s what happens when you get lazy. And I’m going to have to beat you into shape on Side Effect. And if that will wake you up and make your realize that your not Bullet Proof afterall, but all means I will do it with a smile. Now once and for all, you are Dismissed.
End Promo.
From now on we are enemies... You and I.
I'm an outcast on the path of rebound
Everything is frail, I desolate, crush, and burn
I have chosen darkness to be my guide
War is in my heart, death is by my side
Warheart! No remains from compassion or love
Warheart! Hate your fellow as yourself
I have chosen night to be my guide
When the daylight strikes, I hide in my trench and die
I'm the cold-blooded killer who'll fuck you up!
Warheart! No remains from compassion or love
Warheart! Hate your fellow as yourself
I'm the warheart, I'm dying to win the battle I live everyday
One for all and all for me I'm an animal better set me free
The field, or what it once was, is desolate. What used to be something filled with vegetation and merriment is now….a wasteland. A burning quagmire of suffering and no refuge can be found. For miles all one could see is No Mans Land. A black hole of fear and desolation, gathering all emotions and ripping them into a vacuum until there is…nothing. Placed in this field is a man over six feet tall, broad shoulders and a piercing stare not of enchantment like his opponents, but of intimidation. He walks through the valley of the shadow of death, and looks in all directions. Even the dead have been incinerated in this hallow ground of war. So even for the company of burnt flesh, he finds none. Finally, he speaks. Something of a harsh, yet quivering tone. A mix of fear and hatred, of worry and vengeance, he talks to no one, yet he speaks as if talking to an old enemy.
Corporal Punishment:
You cannot stop the Warpath. It shows in your actions. You cannot stop this conflict. It shows in your voice. You cannot stop this pain. Its shows in your eyes. You sir, are nothing more than a coward. We were supposed to settle this. It was supposed to be a clash of titans. But no, you took the cowards way out and decided to try to end it early. You showed the fear of loss, because you would rather turn a great thing into a pier six brawl than see if Serafin really can coexist as a unit.
I know why you did it. Because for once you finally realized, that Serafin cant hack it as a team. You need outside interference. You need illegal objects. You need dirty tactics. You can win in a clean contest. You cant even win in a hardcore contest. You are afraid of loss Jordan. Your afraid that you have finally met your match and that you will no longer be undefeated. You cannot defend yourself with this fact, because every match you have been in shows evidence to the contrary. You cant hack in XVI as a Main Eventer, so you resort to cowards tactics. This week, its no holds barred. This week, its no interference. This week, you will be beaten by the Warpath. Accept it, or I will show you no mercy.
Scene Two: The Grass is always Greener…
Now there is the front to a Victorian Home in Greenbough Alabama. It is actually more modest than other Victorians, with a simple iron fence, a cobblestone walking path up to a wood and alabaster porch. Beyond a few generic wind chimes and some other accessories paramount to suburban porches, there is the same man from the field, now sitting in an old fashioned wooden rocking chair. He has an iron bucket in front of his legs as he rocks path and forth peeling a sack of potatoes. He still has that grimace on his face, his eyes etched with disgust, and his mouth contorting to the same deliverance. He talks once more, as if picking up from the conversation from earlier.
Corporal Punishment:
This is a little more homier of a setting. If I do say so myself. What you saw back there was just one of many places I have to visit every so often because my duties lie with War. Whether the Americas are involved in the conflict I must go where the action is, no matter how disgusting it may be. But to be honest, my opponent has made it a lot easier on myself the past month or so. After staring at something so wretched and pathetic for so long you begin to take a liking to ANY form of setting, as long as you don’t have to be near such filth and vile composition. But this week, I will stomach that pain. I will swallow my disgust with the extra large pills I must drain down my throat due to knowing that I will be going against a man of ill repute. But not just of bad taste, manners and morals. I will be facing a man who doesn’t seem to realize that he’s facing a threat more worthy than he thinks.
He continues to peel the vegetables, but his anger begins to show consistently as if he is imagining his opponents head as the very potato he shaves. So much so is his intensity that he ends up slicing a trickle of blood from his thumb. In a show of humanity he flinches from the cut and drops the unfinished product into the container and throws his cutting blade into the wooden floor. He stands himself up once again and looks towards the beaming sky.
Corporal Punishment:
All you can ever say is how worthless your opponents are. How they are not worthy. How no one is worthy or how no one stands a chance. Let me ask you this one question then Jordan “Bullet Proof” Glass, if we are all so pathetic and unworthy, then why are you still even here? If XVI is so puny and pathetic that no one is even in your league by stretches of miles than why waste your fucking time?! Don’t even answer that question because I know the exact response! Even if your not man enough to admit it. You stick around because you know deep in your black heart that I AM WORTHY! That there are superstars who can hang with you in the ring. Its not a matter of how many times you’ve beaten everyone, you pretentious fool!
If you think you can put the Corporal down one time, just once, and think that you have my number and that you never have to face me again, think again maggot! Its called psychology. The more times you face a man in the ring, the more you get to know about their style, which makes the matches even more entertaining with every passing contest! You fail to realize this Glass! You fail to even recognize that it takes more than just a win to take down your opponent. Unless you kill every last superstar in the back. And I mean literally kill! Not just “beaten with an inch of your life until you wish you were dead” I mean KILL!!!!!! Because if you don’t even my life this week on Side Effect, I will come back again…and again…and again…AND AGAIN…AND AGAIN…AND AGAIN!!! You will never get rid of me Jordan Glass! You will have to deal with me til the ends of time! Because even if I’m dead and buried, you will be forever haunted by the memory of the man who you simply-could-not-put-down! And you can choke on that you miserable excuse for human breath! Dismissed!!!!
Scene Three: The Nail in the Coffin
Finally, there is the XVI locker room of Warpath. A few weight benches spread across the floors. Other notable features are an altar, some claw marks on the walls, and a mini bar. Corporal Punishment is on one of the bench pressing utilities, as he presses on a generous amount of 300lbs. He is just finished counting his reps as his training music of Eye of the Tiger fades away.
Corporal Punishment:
65…66…67…68…69!
The Corporal finally finishes on his 7th set of lifting. As he takes a break by sitting up, and massages his wrists a while doing some moderate flexing to feel the burn on his arms. He looks up towards the camera, a satisfied look on his face, the first since the beginning of the segment. He then tweaks his neck a little and says his final piece.
Corporal Punishment:
You don’t have to respond to this at all Jordan. Because quite frankly, I know for a fact exactly what your going to say. It’s the same old shit over and over and over again. About how you will always be undefeated. No one can do anything about it. Serafin is forever. You aren’t worth my time. You are pathetic. You’re an old man. I used to have respect for you. But now I’m going to cripple you. Your nothing anymore. Your washed up. I am Modern Evolution. Alyssa can kick your ass. Any one of us six can kick your ass with our hands and feet tied behind our backs with blindfolds on. Blahdy Blahdy Blahdy Blahdy Blah. Did I miss anything in there Mr. Glass? Could you possibly have something else to say? For Christ sake at least I have said something new and informative with every monologue. I listen to what you say and just here the same old trash talk. What’s the deal? Where’s the old Jordan Glass who could make an experiment with science chemicals and still make it relevant and entertaining? Where’s the old Jordan Glass who could connect with his audience and whoop some ass at the same time?
I’m not going to point out anymore “Because of Serafin” lines. Because frankly, that’s cliché too. So Jordan, if you cant think of something new to say, and cant find anything new to add to this match, then don’t bother saying anything. The fans are bored with your talk. Management is bored with your talk. And frankly, I am bored with your lackluster attempts at being somebody. You haven’t had that hunger in your eyes since you won that Ultimate Assault Match. Its sad really…but I suppose that’s what happens when you get lazy. And I’m going to have to beat you into shape on Side Effect. And if that will wake you up and make your realize that your not Bullet Proof afterall, but all means I will do it with a smile. Now once and for all, you are Dismissed.
End Promo.
