Dean
October 21st, 2006, 04:25 PM
We’re brought to a dark room, illuminated only by a dim white glow from a flickering television screen. A hooded figure is slumped against a dark wall, chuckling underneath the hood that conceals his face. He slowly lifts the hood, revealing a set of beady eyes… and the eyes are obviously those of Darius Falcon. He grins sadistically while staring into the television set.
Darius Falcon:
Maybe it’s the incandescent light of the television emitting radiation or that the Holiday season is right around the corner, but for whatever reason, my heart is swelling. I can’t stop smiling, Philadelphia, despite wrestling in a dishonorable sh*thole… Because tonight is the night. Tonight is the night I become the PWW World Champion.
For years, I’ve been… heh, almost contradictorily… preaching about my destiny. For years, I’ve dedicated my life to perfecting the craft of wrestling, and tonight, all the years of dedication and sacrifice, and wasting time putting on a show for disrespectful, unappreciative little sh*ts like yourselves. Tonight, I get paid back in full when I finally achieve my destiny – the destiny so many people have tried to deny me since I debuted in Hybrid Championship Wrestling in 2004… I will become the Pro Wrestling Warrior World Heavyweight Champion on October 22nd, 2006.
And just how can I be so confident? How can I proclaim I’m going to win tonight? It’s simple, really. I’m going to win because I’m the best damn athlete on the roster. How many other men can say they’re free of vices? They’re free of any substance or any being controlling their lives? Nobody but myself, Tyler Hart, and KANSHI are that strong. And while Tyler Hart and KANSHI may have fallen, where they’ve failed, I will succeed. Where Tyler Hart and KANSHI may have suffered defeat through no ill will of their own, but simple inexperience and inability to counter that to which they were ignorant, I will reign victorious. I am the true veteran in this company. I’ve been around for years, and have taught so many people you see wrestling here almost everything they know.
Let’s look at the opposition… Roderick Brookes is the type of dipsh*t asswipe who’ll shoot up his entire life, drink up, smoke up, and probably succumb to the irony of cancer. Then as he’s lying on his deathbed, he’ll pray to his imaginary god for forgiveness, and at that moment, his life will flash before his eyes… and he’ll remember being an incessant prick. Oh, he’ll die, but not before he causes the death of hundreds of other people with second hand smoke, drunk driving accidents, and seizures from having witnessed an atrocity known as one of his wrestling matches.
Adam Pugh, probably higher than a kite right now after sniffing all that damned paint. He likes to talk philosophy and apathy. All I hear you blather about is your artwork and theories on life, but if your artwork is half as boring as your interviews, then you’re going to be one poor motherf*cker, as I don’t see you getting paid for any of your lackluster performances lately.
Kenzo Katana – now he’s a man I could respect… That is, if he weren’t such a hypocritical piece of sh*t. Kenzo, you impose you’re merely a tactical, ruthless killing machine; I impose that you’re full of sh*t, because if you were truly a killing machine, you’d be AMERICAN. Why, look at the ruthlessness and… tactlessness in which our government has invaded Iraq. I mean, sh*t, some of your distant relatives are probably hiding in bunkers in North Korea building nuclear arms, waiting on the day they can unleash an onslaught of genocide and relentless violence… But when all is said and done, they’ll kill themselves, because no humans can survive nuclear war – only cockroaches do.
Which brings me to my next potential opponent – Blake Straker. Straker, you claim you’re the Lizard Man, capable of anything and all. Well, you are like a lizard, as you’re unfit to do anything but slither on the dirt and grime beneath me, hopelessly awaiting your death… sweet, sweet, death; you’ll embrace its almost miraculous sanctity when compared to your own mediocrity. You’ll be taken away from your insignificant, useless, and… tasteless… life, ended for all eternity, and no longer will we have to hear you talk about how you felt when you licked a poisonous toad.
Seth Frost, Drake Vinaldi, you two came to Pro Wrestling Warriors with me, ready to board the proverbial ark and survive the 40 days and 40 nights of flooding… Flooding of incompetent wrestling companies, wrestling company owners, wrestlers, and systems. But I was the one true voyager, the man whose goals were clearly in mind; the man who knew what he wanted. You two are followers… mute sheep who kept your mouths shut and rode my coattails to the greatest wrestling company to come to exist in years.
Seth Frost and Drake Vinaldi know where Darius Falcon goes; the money is going to roll in. Sure, they got some nice cash in HCW, but for what? Showing up to work? Hell, they weren’t even used. They’d get paid just as well here when you factor in the amount of time they had to spend in HCW, relocating to the various arenas, doing autograph signings, getting ripped off in merchandise sales, and the whole nine yards. They came to PWW because they knew Darius Falcon decided to show up, and they also know Darius Falcon makes smart decisions.
Frost, Vinaldi, you’re nothing but a couple of bandwagon jumpers, and once the wool is taken off the eyes of these scummy, pathetic Philadelphia sh*tstains and they see what fools they’ve been and what cowardly pricks you are, you’ll have to go find another wrestling company to jump bandwagon.
Now last, and probably least, is my first opponent – the only man I am guaranteed to fight, and that man is… Matthew Voltaire. Voltaire, you’re probably wondering why I’ve been sitting here in this cold, dark room, watching this television screen. Well, Darius Falcon doesn’t waste time watching the trash that has seeped its way on television these days; no, I’m watching a very important video… I have a video of every match you’ve wrestled in, every interview you’ve done, and virtually your whole history in wrestling… Not surprisingly, it fit on one DVD.
I have seen every move you’ve had to make, Matt, and tonight, I’m going to tear you limb from limb. You say you fear nothing, hold no regrets, and want nothing more than to die… Well, there will be no false prophets or false deities to cry to tonight, Matt. When I’m standing above you, my hand raised as the victor, and you lie in a pool of blood, sweat, and tears, there will be no religion to console you, and you will have had the ultimate epiphany and have realized what destiny has in store – Darius Falcon is going to become the first-ever Pro Wrestling Warriors World Heavyweight Champion, and there isn’t a damn thing that you or anybody can do to prevent it from happening… It is my destiny… It is in my hands, and there is no way I’m getting beaten.
So for all the little kids who came to see Crimson Hawk or Adam Pugh or some other happy-go-lucky bullsh*t, remember – the world is a cruel place, especially for the three men I’m facing tonight. This Falcon is in flight, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it!
Falcon laughs, turning his attention to the television screen once again…. We cut back to the ring.
OOC: Didn't like this one as much, but I rewrote some of it and wrote a lot of it while I'm sick, so yeah... Can't really tell if it's good or not.
Darius Falcon:
Maybe it’s the incandescent light of the television emitting radiation or that the Holiday season is right around the corner, but for whatever reason, my heart is swelling. I can’t stop smiling, Philadelphia, despite wrestling in a dishonorable sh*thole… Because tonight is the night. Tonight is the night I become the PWW World Champion.
For years, I’ve been… heh, almost contradictorily… preaching about my destiny. For years, I’ve dedicated my life to perfecting the craft of wrestling, and tonight, all the years of dedication and sacrifice, and wasting time putting on a show for disrespectful, unappreciative little sh*ts like yourselves. Tonight, I get paid back in full when I finally achieve my destiny – the destiny so many people have tried to deny me since I debuted in Hybrid Championship Wrestling in 2004… I will become the Pro Wrestling Warrior World Heavyweight Champion on October 22nd, 2006.
And just how can I be so confident? How can I proclaim I’m going to win tonight? It’s simple, really. I’m going to win because I’m the best damn athlete on the roster. How many other men can say they’re free of vices? They’re free of any substance or any being controlling their lives? Nobody but myself, Tyler Hart, and KANSHI are that strong. And while Tyler Hart and KANSHI may have fallen, where they’ve failed, I will succeed. Where Tyler Hart and KANSHI may have suffered defeat through no ill will of their own, but simple inexperience and inability to counter that to which they were ignorant, I will reign victorious. I am the true veteran in this company. I’ve been around for years, and have taught so many people you see wrestling here almost everything they know.
Let’s look at the opposition… Roderick Brookes is the type of dipsh*t asswipe who’ll shoot up his entire life, drink up, smoke up, and probably succumb to the irony of cancer. Then as he’s lying on his deathbed, he’ll pray to his imaginary god for forgiveness, and at that moment, his life will flash before his eyes… and he’ll remember being an incessant prick. Oh, he’ll die, but not before he causes the death of hundreds of other people with second hand smoke, drunk driving accidents, and seizures from having witnessed an atrocity known as one of his wrestling matches.
Adam Pugh, probably higher than a kite right now after sniffing all that damned paint. He likes to talk philosophy and apathy. All I hear you blather about is your artwork and theories on life, but if your artwork is half as boring as your interviews, then you’re going to be one poor motherf*cker, as I don’t see you getting paid for any of your lackluster performances lately.
Kenzo Katana – now he’s a man I could respect… That is, if he weren’t such a hypocritical piece of sh*t. Kenzo, you impose you’re merely a tactical, ruthless killing machine; I impose that you’re full of sh*t, because if you were truly a killing machine, you’d be AMERICAN. Why, look at the ruthlessness and… tactlessness in which our government has invaded Iraq. I mean, sh*t, some of your distant relatives are probably hiding in bunkers in North Korea building nuclear arms, waiting on the day they can unleash an onslaught of genocide and relentless violence… But when all is said and done, they’ll kill themselves, because no humans can survive nuclear war – only cockroaches do.
Which brings me to my next potential opponent – Blake Straker. Straker, you claim you’re the Lizard Man, capable of anything and all. Well, you are like a lizard, as you’re unfit to do anything but slither on the dirt and grime beneath me, hopelessly awaiting your death… sweet, sweet, death; you’ll embrace its almost miraculous sanctity when compared to your own mediocrity. You’ll be taken away from your insignificant, useless, and… tasteless… life, ended for all eternity, and no longer will we have to hear you talk about how you felt when you licked a poisonous toad.
Seth Frost, Drake Vinaldi, you two came to Pro Wrestling Warriors with me, ready to board the proverbial ark and survive the 40 days and 40 nights of flooding… Flooding of incompetent wrestling companies, wrestling company owners, wrestlers, and systems. But I was the one true voyager, the man whose goals were clearly in mind; the man who knew what he wanted. You two are followers… mute sheep who kept your mouths shut and rode my coattails to the greatest wrestling company to come to exist in years.
Seth Frost and Drake Vinaldi know where Darius Falcon goes; the money is going to roll in. Sure, they got some nice cash in HCW, but for what? Showing up to work? Hell, they weren’t even used. They’d get paid just as well here when you factor in the amount of time they had to spend in HCW, relocating to the various arenas, doing autograph signings, getting ripped off in merchandise sales, and the whole nine yards. They came to PWW because they knew Darius Falcon decided to show up, and they also know Darius Falcon makes smart decisions.
Frost, Vinaldi, you’re nothing but a couple of bandwagon jumpers, and once the wool is taken off the eyes of these scummy, pathetic Philadelphia sh*tstains and they see what fools they’ve been and what cowardly pricks you are, you’ll have to go find another wrestling company to jump bandwagon.
Now last, and probably least, is my first opponent – the only man I am guaranteed to fight, and that man is… Matthew Voltaire. Voltaire, you’re probably wondering why I’ve been sitting here in this cold, dark room, watching this television screen. Well, Darius Falcon doesn’t waste time watching the trash that has seeped its way on television these days; no, I’m watching a very important video… I have a video of every match you’ve wrestled in, every interview you’ve done, and virtually your whole history in wrestling… Not surprisingly, it fit on one DVD.
I have seen every move you’ve had to make, Matt, and tonight, I’m going to tear you limb from limb. You say you fear nothing, hold no regrets, and want nothing more than to die… Well, there will be no false prophets or false deities to cry to tonight, Matt. When I’m standing above you, my hand raised as the victor, and you lie in a pool of blood, sweat, and tears, there will be no religion to console you, and you will have had the ultimate epiphany and have realized what destiny has in store – Darius Falcon is going to become the first-ever Pro Wrestling Warriors World Heavyweight Champion, and there isn’t a damn thing that you or anybody can do to prevent it from happening… It is my destiny… It is in my hands, and there is no way I’m getting beaten.
So for all the little kids who came to see Crimson Hawk or Adam Pugh or some other happy-go-lucky bullsh*t, remember – the world is a cruel place, especially for the three men I’m facing tonight. This Falcon is in flight, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it!
Falcon laughs, turning his attention to the television screen once again…. We cut back to the ring.
OOC: Didn't like this one as much, but I rewrote some of it and wrote a lot of it while I'm sick, so yeah... Can't really tell if it's good or not.