Disposable Hero
September 23rd, 2006, 08:57 PM
Backstage at Revival, cameras are fixated on a wall. Yes, a wall. A plain old wall.
… What? ARE YOU NOT… ENTERTAINED?!
Alright, sorry, let’s be serious. The camera is focused on a wall, and some guy with long hair covering his face steps into the camera view. We zoom out a bit, and the guy throws his head up, flinging his hair back… revealing himself to be none other than the Sicilian Shooter, Drake Vinaldi. Drake looks into the camera, and here we go.
Drake Vinaldi:
”As I look around at the people that encompass this place… I see several strange individuals.
A painter that cries himself to sleep.
A ninja.
A guy who thinks he’s cancer.
A king of geckos.
A jolly gangster.
A snowman.
One bird who flies by the rules, and another who’s obviously been smoking, even though he says otherwise.
Yeah, it’s a shame that each and every one of you… f*cking LOVES boys.”
What? You thought he’d change? Nah.
Drake Vinaldi:
”I left HC-… I left that other place because I wanted to get away from all the f*cking idiots. I’ve been craving some real competition. I didn’t think I’d have to deal with the SAME jackasses who talk about stupid sh*t all the goddamned time. But lo and behold, here I am, and people are still f*cking retarded. Whatever. Pro Wrestling Warriors, just in case you don’t know who the f*ck I am, let me tell you.
I’m Drake Vinaldi.
I’m not here to spew bullsh*t about how sh*tty the world is or about how I’m going to enforce the rules. I’m here to kick some ass. People all over the world have seen me wrestle, but tonight, right here in Philadelphia, these lucky fans are going to see me cut loose like I’ve never cut loose before. I can do it all. If you want to see me fly off the top rope and kick some already stupid motherf*cker into an even deeper state of mental retardation, then I’ll do it. If you want to see me wrap somebody up so intricately that they look like a goddamn pretzel, then I’ll do it. When it comes down to performing in the wrestling ring, I’ve got it all.
Tonight, I face two guys that are known all over the world. Seth Frost and Darius Falcon. And I don’t plan on losing.
Try to choke me out, Seth. I dare you. I’ll slip out of your punkass little hold faster than you can say ‘snowman’. One Killing Blow. That’s all it takes. One kick and you’re out like a light. In your case, I suppose you could say that you’ll be out cold.
And Darius Falcon? This isn’t about religion. It’s about me outwrestling you. Yeah, I might indulge in a few unhealthy substances from time to time, but that doesn’t make you any better than me. You’ll learn that when you face me tonight. I’m all business. I’m going to make an impact, and I’m going to solidify my spot at the top of this promotion… before I carry it on my very shoulders as it takes over the world.
I am a Pro Wrestling Warrior. I am the personification of this entire promotion. And if anybody questions that… heh…
I’ll let my kicks give them the answer.”
Vinaldi has himself a nice chuckle before walking off… and this one’s done.
… What? ARE YOU NOT… ENTERTAINED?!
Alright, sorry, let’s be serious. The camera is focused on a wall, and some guy with long hair covering his face steps into the camera view. We zoom out a bit, and the guy throws his head up, flinging his hair back… revealing himself to be none other than the Sicilian Shooter, Drake Vinaldi. Drake looks into the camera, and here we go.
Drake Vinaldi:
”As I look around at the people that encompass this place… I see several strange individuals.
A painter that cries himself to sleep.
A ninja.
A guy who thinks he’s cancer.
A king of geckos.
A jolly gangster.
A snowman.
One bird who flies by the rules, and another who’s obviously been smoking, even though he says otherwise.
Yeah, it’s a shame that each and every one of you… f*cking LOVES boys.”
What? You thought he’d change? Nah.
Drake Vinaldi:
”I left HC-… I left that other place because I wanted to get away from all the f*cking idiots. I’ve been craving some real competition. I didn’t think I’d have to deal with the SAME jackasses who talk about stupid sh*t all the goddamned time. But lo and behold, here I am, and people are still f*cking retarded. Whatever. Pro Wrestling Warriors, just in case you don’t know who the f*ck I am, let me tell you.
I’m Drake Vinaldi.
I’m not here to spew bullsh*t about how sh*tty the world is or about how I’m going to enforce the rules. I’m here to kick some ass. People all over the world have seen me wrestle, but tonight, right here in Philadelphia, these lucky fans are going to see me cut loose like I’ve never cut loose before. I can do it all. If you want to see me fly off the top rope and kick some already stupid motherf*cker into an even deeper state of mental retardation, then I’ll do it. If you want to see me wrap somebody up so intricately that they look like a goddamn pretzel, then I’ll do it. When it comes down to performing in the wrestling ring, I’ve got it all.
Tonight, I face two guys that are known all over the world. Seth Frost and Darius Falcon. And I don’t plan on losing.
Try to choke me out, Seth. I dare you. I’ll slip out of your punkass little hold faster than you can say ‘snowman’. One Killing Blow. That’s all it takes. One kick and you’re out like a light. In your case, I suppose you could say that you’ll be out cold.
And Darius Falcon? This isn’t about religion. It’s about me outwrestling you. Yeah, I might indulge in a few unhealthy substances from time to time, but that doesn’t make you any better than me. You’ll learn that when you face me tonight. I’m all business. I’m going to make an impact, and I’m going to solidify my spot at the top of this promotion… before I carry it on my very shoulders as it takes over the world.
I am a Pro Wrestling Warrior. I am the personification of this entire promotion. And if anybody questions that… heh…
I’ll let my kicks give them the answer.”
Vinaldi has himself a nice chuckle before walking off… and this one’s done.