Syke
September 30th, 2006, 08:00 PM
Two years is a long time, I’ve been through a lot over the current two years…
The voice precedes any tangible visualisation.
I’ve raged wars with numerous opponents, myself included. I won some. I lost some.
As the camera continues to manoeuvre, though the lighting is very low, we come to realize that we’re seeing what appears to be some lower level basement area, filled with a structured entanglement of gas and water pipes. A gentle and frequent drip somewhere in the area seems to recreate the rhythmic pattern of a beating heart, creating a somewhat more intense atmosphere than this environment already carries.
I’ve been the underdog, and I’ve been a champion. A champion and held his reign longer than anyone ever had or ever will, because that championship was retired around my waist.
The camera scans the room, seemingly searching for the person speaking even though we need no visual to recognise the voice.
I’ve gained a reputation or two for being aggressive, vicious, intense, dangerous, insane, insatiable and unstoppable. Sure, you can put me down…essentially I’m only human. But you’ll never keep me down.
In one of the corners of this area, the camera finds a crouched figure. He stands alone, encircled by a light fog of steam.
I’ve bled, been hurt, I’ve caused people to bleed, and I’ve caused people to hurt. I’ve broken bones, shattered dreams, shortened careers…hell I’ve even been taken to and from the depth of insanity. At the end of it one thing always remained the same. My passion. My drive. The primal force within that pushes me forward and causes me to step into that ring every night to do one thing…compete…battle…fight. Last week, at Revival, that’s exactly what I did. Two gruelling matches with two impeccable wrestlers. By the end of the second match I was unconscious, but I’m still here. I don’t mean to overshadow or ignore Darius Falcon because he was no easy win and I respect the man for what he can do in that ring, but for me the man of the night was Drake Vinaldi. Not only did he beat me…but ultimately he beat me with my own move. It’s very possible that I was already knocked out from the force of that kick to the back of my head, but I honestly don’t remember which of the two put me away in the end. Am I angry? Pissed off? Enraged? No. It proved exactly what I hoped. By joining the leagues of Pro Wrestling Warriors I have entered a battleground filled with soldiers who know no bounds. A warrior does nothing but the necessary and will do whatever it takes to put your opponent way because whatever it takes…is necessary.
What? I don’t know. No, seriously…what? I said I don’t know…idiot.
Vinaldi didn’t do that to disrespect me, or because he needed to. He did it because he’s trying to prove a point. In his eyes, he is PWW alpha male. Well Vinaldi, look into my eyes as I tell you this and tell you it once only.
Seth leans forward slightly and the camera zooms in, just about gaining a fair level of visibility on his blue eyes as they seem to glow out through the mist.
You’re not. Sure, you’ve beaten me but you haven’t defeated me and you haven’t made me tap out. More importantly, you never will. Especially now that you’ve awoken the animal within. At Revival we witnessed the regeneration of wrestling. Just like Lazurus or the phoenix, that night saw pure wrestling rise to glory. But that night was more than just a revival, it was…
Seth suddenly stands up and fires an arm up in the air that is apparently equipped with something strong enough to burst the pipe above him and cause water to gust out like a waterfall. He releases the object, letting it fall to the floor and steps into the water.
A rebirth.
Though the lighting is low and the light fog, in combination with the pressure of the water, largely obscures vision…it is still obvious that Seth Frost isn’t wearing any clothes as he stands with his arms spread out like wings.
My match showed me that this new home, this change…requires a change in myself. My matched showed me that it is time to get…serious.
ooh, the irony.
So witness the rebirth of wrestling at its best. The rebirth of true intensity and all out aggression. Witness, the rebirth…of a warrior.
Seth brings his hands toward his head, suddenly causing everyone to refocus on the pair of scissors in his hands that they were earlier wondering why were there. Beneath the vicious gush of water, Frost’s hands disappear for a moment. He brings them back to the forefront and drops the scissors from his right hand while holding his left hand out and showing us the hair he just cut from his head. Slowly he opens his hand and releases the lock of wet hair, letting it fall to the floor.
Pro Wrestling Warriors deserves only the best, and I intend to be just that. So a new home brings a new and improved me. Drake Vinaldi will be the first to experience me. To experience the animal within. No mercy, no surrender, no prisoners. Just one function. Systematic breakdown and execution of every victim I encounter. I didn’t come here to play games, or to be one of the best. Every man here is one of the best. I’m here to be the best. Tonight’s event is so well named. Not because I’m the future of wrestling.
There is a mixed reaction on this one as it is a very bold statement.
Not because I’m the future Pro Wrestling Warrior’s champion.
Cheers all-round.
And not because I’m the man who, in the not so distant future, is going to make Drake Vinaldi…tap. out.
Same again.
But because I am Seth Frost. And that’s all there is to it. The future is now…
Frost steps out from the water and raises his arms in a gesture of presentation.
You’re looking at it.
Cue intense glare, cue cheers from fans and…scene. Damn I’m tired…
The voice precedes any tangible visualisation.
I’ve raged wars with numerous opponents, myself included. I won some. I lost some.
As the camera continues to manoeuvre, though the lighting is very low, we come to realize that we’re seeing what appears to be some lower level basement area, filled with a structured entanglement of gas and water pipes. A gentle and frequent drip somewhere in the area seems to recreate the rhythmic pattern of a beating heart, creating a somewhat more intense atmosphere than this environment already carries.
I’ve been the underdog, and I’ve been a champion. A champion and held his reign longer than anyone ever had or ever will, because that championship was retired around my waist.
The camera scans the room, seemingly searching for the person speaking even though we need no visual to recognise the voice.
I’ve gained a reputation or two for being aggressive, vicious, intense, dangerous, insane, insatiable and unstoppable. Sure, you can put me down…essentially I’m only human. But you’ll never keep me down.
In one of the corners of this area, the camera finds a crouched figure. He stands alone, encircled by a light fog of steam.
I’ve bled, been hurt, I’ve caused people to bleed, and I’ve caused people to hurt. I’ve broken bones, shattered dreams, shortened careers…hell I’ve even been taken to and from the depth of insanity. At the end of it one thing always remained the same. My passion. My drive. The primal force within that pushes me forward and causes me to step into that ring every night to do one thing…compete…battle…fight. Last week, at Revival, that’s exactly what I did. Two gruelling matches with two impeccable wrestlers. By the end of the second match I was unconscious, but I’m still here. I don’t mean to overshadow or ignore Darius Falcon because he was no easy win and I respect the man for what he can do in that ring, but for me the man of the night was Drake Vinaldi. Not only did he beat me…but ultimately he beat me with my own move. It’s very possible that I was already knocked out from the force of that kick to the back of my head, but I honestly don’t remember which of the two put me away in the end. Am I angry? Pissed off? Enraged? No. It proved exactly what I hoped. By joining the leagues of Pro Wrestling Warriors I have entered a battleground filled with soldiers who know no bounds. A warrior does nothing but the necessary and will do whatever it takes to put your opponent way because whatever it takes…is necessary.
What? I don’t know. No, seriously…what? I said I don’t know…idiot.
Vinaldi didn’t do that to disrespect me, or because he needed to. He did it because he’s trying to prove a point. In his eyes, he is PWW alpha male. Well Vinaldi, look into my eyes as I tell you this and tell you it once only.
Seth leans forward slightly and the camera zooms in, just about gaining a fair level of visibility on his blue eyes as they seem to glow out through the mist.
You’re not. Sure, you’ve beaten me but you haven’t defeated me and you haven’t made me tap out. More importantly, you never will. Especially now that you’ve awoken the animal within. At Revival we witnessed the regeneration of wrestling. Just like Lazurus or the phoenix, that night saw pure wrestling rise to glory. But that night was more than just a revival, it was…
Seth suddenly stands up and fires an arm up in the air that is apparently equipped with something strong enough to burst the pipe above him and cause water to gust out like a waterfall. He releases the object, letting it fall to the floor and steps into the water.
A rebirth.
Though the lighting is low and the light fog, in combination with the pressure of the water, largely obscures vision…it is still obvious that Seth Frost isn’t wearing any clothes as he stands with his arms spread out like wings.
My match showed me that this new home, this change…requires a change in myself. My matched showed me that it is time to get…serious.
ooh, the irony.
So witness the rebirth of wrestling at its best. The rebirth of true intensity and all out aggression. Witness, the rebirth…of a warrior.
Seth brings his hands toward his head, suddenly causing everyone to refocus on the pair of scissors in his hands that they were earlier wondering why were there. Beneath the vicious gush of water, Frost’s hands disappear for a moment. He brings them back to the forefront and drops the scissors from his right hand while holding his left hand out and showing us the hair he just cut from his head. Slowly he opens his hand and releases the lock of wet hair, letting it fall to the floor.
Pro Wrestling Warriors deserves only the best, and I intend to be just that. So a new home brings a new and improved me. Drake Vinaldi will be the first to experience me. To experience the animal within. No mercy, no surrender, no prisoners. Just one function. Systematic breakdown and execution of every victim I encounter. I didn’t come here to play games, or to be one of the best. Every man here is one of the best. I’m here to be the best. Tonight’s event is so well named. Not because I’m the future of wrestling.
There is a mixed reaction on this one as it is a very bold statement.
Not because I’m the future Pro Wrestling Warrior’s champion.
Cheers all-round.
And not because I’m the man who, in the not so distant future, is going to make Drake Vinaldi…tap. out.
Same again.
But because I am Seth Frost. And that’s all there is to it. The future is now…
Frost steps out from the water and raises his arms in a gesture of presentation.
You’re looking at it.
Cue intense glare, cue cheers from fans and…scene. Damn I’m tired…