Zio The Abyss
October 18th, 2006, 02:01 PM
This action text is being used to describe that Kenzo Katana is in some room with taped wrists and a bottle of water. Please affirm acknowledgement of such description. Hmm. Yeah, so let's get onto the promo.
Kenzo Katana:
Last week, I destroyed KANSHI. Listen to the word... destroyed. I didn't beat him, I didn't defeat him, I didn't even "kick his ass"... I destroyed him. I didn't make him pass out, technically, nor did he tap or get pinned. I literally beat the f*cking piss out of him until the referee, to preserve his own conscience, had to FORCE the match to end. It's funny; KANSHI walked into that match with all the ego in the world. He said I wasn't perfect, he said he was, he said a lot of ignorant crap that makes me disgusted by the honor-spewing spiel that I once adopted... but he said one thing that rang true. The outcome of our match, before we even stepped into the ring, was already decided. He chose to cling to his newfound allies and to his oversized ego instead of bracing himself for the staggering encounter that lied ahead of him, and because of that blunder, none of his training and meticulous preparation could measure up to balance the cruel fate that he received.
Remember that, KANSHI, the next time you open your mouth in my general direction. I held your life in my hands and I gave you an early birthday gift by showing mercy. I'm not a career altruist; next time, I will smash your skull into fragments smaller than your downsized pride.
But I suppose there should be celebration; I have reached the quarterfinals. Tonight is my destiny fulfilled. I go through three men, only one of them with a certain identity, and I once again become the forefather, the patriarch of a young company. It's happened before and I'm far too focused, far too intense, far too disciplined to break the trend. First up... Adam Pugh. I cannot say much about you, Adam, so let me say this: you're out of your league. You're facing me because of you and Rich Storrs, one was mercifully sidelined and the other was allowed to proceed... to facing me. You walk around and call yourself an artist, a painter, a man whose matches are blank canvasses that are finished-... honestly, I don't care. It's just another preposterous gimmick to attach to a mediocre wrestler. It's so you can, like men such as Blake Straker and Rob Cavallo, hide your ineptitude behind cute catchphrases and hip merchandise. You're pathetic, Adam, and you've fallen on bad times because I'm a bigot when it comes to sell-out clowns such as yourself.
You say wrestling is an art? I say it's a sport. I say it's a brutal, dangerous and wonderful sport that has been in my culture and my family for generations and it is one I will carry on through my victory over you. Artists are never appreciated until they pass; allow me, Adam, to bring you the adoration of billions of people when I transition you to the afterlife.
As for my mystery opponents... whether it's Blake Straker, Seth Frost, Roderick Brookes, Darius Falcon, Voltaire... it honestly doesn't matter who I face in the semi-finals and the ultimate match, because whoever you are, try as you might, your wrestling skills and your intensity will never match mine. You can cheat, you can cry, you can beg and you can squirm, but whoever receives the fortune of moving onward in this tournament will find a yin to that yang when you are halted by the sting of the Katana.
To all who stand between Kenzo Katana and the ultimate prize, the PWW Championship...
... I shall justify my existence... by erasing... each... and every... one... of YOURS.
Yeah, we're done here.
Kenzo Katana:
Last week, I destroyed KANSHI. Listen to the word... destroyed. I didn't beat him, I didn't defeat him, I didn't even "kick his ass"... I destroyed him. I didn't make him pass out, technically, nor did he tap or get pinned. I literally beat the f*cking piss out of him until the referee, to preserve his own conscience, had to FORCE the match to end. It's funny; KANSHI walked into that match with all the ego in the world. He said I wasn't perfect, he said he was, he said a lot of ignorant crap that makes me disgusted by the honor-spewing spiel that I once adopted... but he said one thing that rang true. The outcome of our match, before we even stepped into the ring, was already decided. He chose to cling to his newfound allies and to his oversized ego instead of bracing himself for the staggering encounter that lied ahead of him, and because of that blunder, none of his training and meticulous preparation could measure up to balance the cruel fate that he received.
Remember that, KANSHI, the next time you open your mouth in my general direction. I held your life in my hands and I gave you an early birthday gift by showing mercy. I'm not a career altruist; next time, I will smash your skull into fragments smaller than your downsized pride.
But I suppose there should be celebration; I have reached the quarterfinals. Tonight is my destiny fulfilled. I go through three men, only one of them with a certain identity, and I once again become the forefather, the patriarch of a young company. It's happened before and I'm far too focused, far too intense, far too disciplined to break the trend. First up... Adam Pugh. I cannot say much about you, Adam, so let me say this: you're out of your league. You're facing me because of you and Rich Storrs, one was mercifully sidelined and the other was allowed to proceed... to facing me. You walk around and call yourself an artist, a painter, a man whose matches are blank canvasses that are finished-... honestly, I don't care. It's just another preposterous gimmick to attach to a mediocre wrestler. It's so you can, like men such as Blake Straker and Rob Cavallo, hide your ineptitude behind cute catchphrases and hip merchandise. You're pathetic, Adam, and you've fallen on bad times because I'm a bigot when it comes to sell-out clowns such as yourself.
You say wrestling is an art? I say it's a sport. I say it's a brutal, dangerous and wonderful sport that has been in my culture and my family for generations and it is one I will carry on through my victory over you. Artists are never appreciated until they pass; allow me, Adam, to bring you the adoration of billions of people when I transition you to the afterlife.
As for my mystery opponents... whether it's Blake Straker, Seth Frost, Roderick Brookes, Darius Falcon, Voltaire... it honestly doesn't matter who I face in the semi-finals and the ultimate match, because whoever you are, try as you might, your wrestling skills and your intensity will never match mine. You can cheat, you can cry, you can beg and you can squirm, but whoever receives the fortune of moving onward in this tournament will find a yin to that yang when you are halted by the sting of the Katana.
To all who stand between Kenzo Katana and the ultimate prize, the PWW Championship...
... I shall justify my existence... by erasing... each... and every... one... of YOURS.
Yeah, we're done here.