Post by Dominik Santiago on Jun 4, 2012 17:30:32 GMT -5
The scene opens up backstage, the area barely illuminated by a dim ceiling light bulb, creating a dreary, darkened atmosphere. The flashlight on the camera casts a silhouette, with the figure belonging to the GHW Champion. Dominik Santiago is leaning on the near wall, dawning his usual ring tights, and wrestling boots. His upperbody remains uncovered, exposing the tapestry of tattoo work, that mixes in with the array of scars in his flesh, all of which greatly contrast his white skin. As usual the Assassin's blond hair is damp, likely moisturized by a water bottle, or possibly a shower that preceded the impeding sermon. His head is cocked askew, his cold-blooded eyes staring out into space, entranced in the maniacal, twisted thoughts that one could only imagine that the Lord of the Flies would be thinking. Still in his trance, he murmurs to the off-screen camera man.
Santiago: "...Are we recording?"
Camera Man: "Ready when you are."
His eyes remain peering into the horizon, his cranium, the recipient of many concussive blows and lacerations throughout the years, continues to assimilate his racing thoughts. He hisses to himself in a quiet tone, his eyes darting from the unforseen horizon which they were cast on, and now looking into the camera. He commences to speak again, his tone somber and grave, his pupils remaining trained on the entire world.
"In six days I will be defending my GHW Championship. A few days from them I'll be main-eventing another show. Months from there I'll be wrestling another five star match. And not long after that I'll be inducted into the GHW Hall of Fame - all of which I never believed possible approximately five years ago-"
Dominik moves off the wall, taking a step forward as he momentarily takes the trip down memory lane.
"I was eighteen years young when I decided I wanted to become a professional Fighty fighty person. This kid with a strong G.P.A. in high school decided he wanted to get his head bashed in on a daily basis like the madmen he watched on network television. Moe than anything I wanted to shine under the bright lights, and have my name shouted by millions and millions of fans. But if you know my story, you also know that I almost never made it."
The Assassin nods his head, simultaneously striking his ungroomed goatee, his eyes scanning his surroundings.
"My dream had been deferred time after time, after time. I'd become a laughing stock, and a jobber. A life-sized pinata, one of which superstar after superstar battered and bruised for kicks. The early part of my GHW career, I was a personal canvas to many of legends of this business. The only ones worth mentioning however, are Metal Dragon, Matthew Oliveira, and anyone else that called Stone Orchard home. It's been said a thousand times, and will be said thousands of times after this speech, the Orchard embarrassed me countless times. I can't count the times because I've bled so much by their hands, been concussed by the hands so many times that I couldn't even remember if I wanted to. They had their foot around my neck for a good portion of my career, and I'll be honest, I wanted to quit. I wanted to throw in the towel, concede defeat, cut my losses and go to college to make something of myself...but I didn't."
Dominik stares back into the camera, his teeth gritted, his tone rising, his emotions beginning to pour out of him, resting on his sleeve.
"I went nights without sleep because I had a dream that was worth more to me. And that dream was to become GHW Champion. And now I am. Much to popular belief, I've earned everything I've ever gotten. And I have the broken bones, surgically repaired limbs, and battle scars to prove it. I've paid my dues in this industry. And I paid them with my blood, with my body being hurled off fifteen foot ladders, and cages, and crashing through wooden tables, and being lacerated by barbed wire and glass panes, and eating sledgehammers and splitting mauls with this very face. Don't for a second fool yourself thinking I had anything ever handed to me, or that I got lucky to be where I am today. FIVE years ago I was naive Californian, still wet behind the ears, with aspirations of wrestling on the biggest stages known to man. Months after that I was driven through three tables, beaten to near extinction in an assortment of deathmatches, and mutilated on a weekly basis. Fast forward a few years, I steam roll through NeXus V, only to lose in the Final Round, and go home with gashes, and lacerations, sporting them like they were some some badge of honor. AND THEN, I captured the BIG ONE. And it wasn't the first time I had reached the top of this business, but it was the only time I really felt like a champion, the only time people weren't questioning my accomplishment...THE ONLY TIME I FELT LIKE I FUCKING MATTERED!"
The GHW Champion's eyes begin to widen, his fingers running through his fingertips, his tranquility and composure having deteriorated completely, leaving the man before the camera a madden, crazed shell of his former self.
"And WOLVERINA, of all people questions my legacy, spites my accomplishments, challenges by reign of supremacy! Wolvie, you're the Kim Kardashian of the wrestling universe. LET ME TELL YOU... when you were sleeping in bed with everyone in Nebraska, I was blazing trails in this company, the one in Concord, and anywhere else I could stake my claim. YOU AIMED AT THE TARGET ON MY BACK... GUESS WHAT... I'VE ALWAYS BEEN A TARGET. You're a PRETENDER... pretending to be a legitimate Fighty fighty person, pretending to be a viable challenger and threat to me and my perch at the top of this company. BUT you're also DELUSIONAL... delusional to think that just because you beat Kahlan that you're anywhere near my league, delusional thinking just because you laid me out in the one rare moment that my guard was down, that you somehow have an upperhand, or are in my head. You can't get in my head Wolverina. Nobody can..."
The Assassin places a finger on his head, repeatedly tapping it, frantically, seething as well...
"Up top I'm intact, and strapped, its a mental fucking militia upstairs. You can't get in my head. I can't even get in my head, the way its wired. Wolverina, you're looking at the man that damn near turned Matthew Olivieira, a legitimate fucking genius into a deranged, psychotic fool. And there's nothing you can throw at me, that I haven't already seen. There's nobody you've ever faced that will prepare you for what's in store... in six days time. Ignorance is bliss, and you're in a state of ecstasy, because you don't have any earthly idea of the things I'm capable of. You're going to face a man that five something years ago, was staring up at the apex, willing to do anything to reach it. And in that same ring, is the same man that will do anything to remain the face of this company, the mother fucking franchise. Five years ago, I was a nobody, five years later I'm the GHW Champion. Six days from now I'll be walking into NeXus with the big gold belt... six days from now I'll be leaving the same way I came in. "
The Assassin begins to calm, and simmer down, slowly advancing to the camera and grabbing the lens. He pulls it closer to himself, his tone settling, his narrowed eyes confidently gazing into the hearts of everyone watching.
"Wolverina, just like everyone else who has ever doubted me, ever written me off, ever said I'd never reached the upper echelon, you're going to be proven wrong. And when I do so, there will be no questioning, no excuses that you can come up with on your part, because you'll have had a first hand look of what true greatness looks like, and what a man that has clawed his way to get to the top looks like... I'm going to overcome all your underestimations, because there's nothing I love more than to throw everything I have at someone and then stand over them as I'm announced the winner, and I will be announced the winner...."
Santiago backs away from the camera, his blond hair now hanging in front of him, covering majority of his face. His cocksure grin emerges through his hair follicles, before he slowly walks away, leaving his thoughts reverberating throughout the arena and more importantly, the head of his challenger.
End of Segment
Santiago: "...Are we recording?"
Camera Man: "Ready when you are."
His eyes remain peering into the horizon, his cranium, the recipient of many concussive blows and lacerations throughout the years, continues to assimilate his racing thoughts. He hisses to himself in a quiet tone, his eyes darting from the unforseen horizon which they were cast on, and now looking into the camera. He commences to speak again, his tone somber and grave, his pupils remaining trained on the entire world.
"In six days I will be defending my GHW Championship. A few days from them I'll be main-eventing another show. Months from there I'll be wrestling another five star match. And not long after that I'll be inducted into the GHW Hall of Fame - all of which I never believed possible approximately five years ago-"
Dominik moves off the wall, taking a step forward as he momentarily takes the trip down memory lane.
"I was eighteen years young when I decided I wanted to become a professional Fighty fighty person. This kid with a strong G.P.A. in high school decided he wanted to get his head bashed in on a daily basis like the madmen he watched on network television. Moe than anything I wanted to shine under the bright lights, and have my name shouted by millions and millions of fans. But if you know my story, you also know that I almost never made it."
The Assassin nods his head, simultaneously striking his ungroomed goatee, his eyes scanning his surroundings.
"My dream had been deferred time after time, after time. I'd become a laughing stock, and a jobber. A life-sized pinata, one of which superstar after superstar battered and bruised for kicks. The early part of my GHW career, I was a personal canvas to many of legends of this business. The only ones worth mentioning however, are Metal Dragon, Matthew Oliveira, and anyone else that called Stone Orchard home. It's been said a thousand times, and will be said thousands of times after this speech, the Orchard embarrassed me countless times. I can't count the times because I've bled so much by their hands, been concussed by the hands so many times that I couldn't even remember if I wanted to. They had their foot around my neck for a good portion of my career, and I'll be honest, I wanted to quit. I wanted to throw in the towel, concede defeat, cut my losses and go to college to make something of myself...but I didn't."
Dominik stares back into the camera, his teeth gritted, his tone rising, his emotions beginning to pour out of him, resting on his sleeve.
"I went nights without sleep because I had a dream that was worth more to me. And that dream was to become GHW Champion. And now I am. Much to popular belief, I've earned everything I've ever gotten. And I have the broken bones, surgically repaired limbs, and battle scars to prove it. I've paid my dues in this industry. And I paid them with my blood, with my body being hurled off fifteen foot ladders, and cages, and crashing through wooden tables, and being lacerated by barbed wire and glass panes, and eating sledgehammers and splitting mauls with this very face. Don't for a second fool yourself thinking I had anything ever handed to me, or that I got lucky to be where I am today. FIVE years ago I was naive Californian, still wet behind the ears, with aspirations of wrestling on the biggest stages known to man. Months after that I was driven through three tables, beaten to near extinction in an assortment of deathmatches, and mutilated on a weekly basis. Fast forward a few years, I steam roll through NeXus V, only to lose in the Final Round, and go home with gashes, and lacerations, sporting them like they were some some badge of honor. AND THEN, I captured the BIG ONE. And it wasn't the first time I had reached the top of this business, but it was the only time I really felt like a champion, the only time people weren't questioning my accomplishment...THE ONLY TIME I FELT LIKE I FUCKING MATTERED!"
The GHW Champion's eyes begin to widen, his fingers running through his fingertips, his tranquility and composure having deteriorated completely, leaving the man before the camera a madden, crazed shell of his former self.
"And WOLVERINA, of all people questions my legacy, spites my accomplishments, challenges by reign of supremacy! Wolvie, you're the Kim Kardashian of the wrestling universe. LET ME TELL YOU... when you were sleeping in bed with everyone in Nebraska, I was blazing trails in this company, the one in Concord, and anywhere else I could stake my claim. YOU AIMED AT THE TARGET ON MY BACK... GUESS WHAT... I'VE ALWAYS BEEN A TARGET. You're a PRETENDER... pretending to be a legitimate Fighty fighty person, pretending to be a viable challenger and threat to me and my perch at the top of this company. BUT you're also DELUSIONAL... delusional to think that just because you beat Kahlan that you're anywhere near my league, delusional thinking just because you laid me out in the one rare moment that my guard was down, that you somehow have an upperhand, or are in my head. You can't get in my head Wolverina. Nobody can..."
The Assassin places a finger on his head, repeatedly tapping it, frantically, seething as well...
"Up top I'm intact, and strapped, its a mental fucking militia upstairs. You can't get in my head. I can't even get in my head, the way its wired. Wolverina, you're looking at the man that damn near turned Matthew Olivieira, a legitimate fucking genius into a deranged, psychotic fool. And there's nothing you can throw at me, that I haven't already seen. There's nobody you've ever faced that will prepare you for what's in store... in six days time. Ignorance is bliss, and you're in a state of ecstasy, because you don't have any earthly idea of the things I'm capable of. You're going to face a man that five something years ago, was staring up at the apex, willing to do anything to reach it. And in that same ring, is the same man that will do anything to remain the face of this company, the mother fucking franchise. Five years ago, I was a nobody, five years later I'm the GHW Champion. Six days from now I'll be walking into NeXus with the big gold belt... six days from now I'll be leaving the same way I came in. "
The Assassin begins to calm, and simmer down, slowly advancing to the camera and grabbing the lens. He pulls it closer to himself, his tone settling, his narrowed eyes confidently gazing into the hearts of everyone watching.
"Wolverina, just like everyone else who has ever doubted me, ever written me off, ever said I'd never reached the upper echelon, you're going to be proven wrong. And when I do so, there will be no questioning, no excuses that you can come up with on your part, because you'll have had a first hand look of what true greatness looks like, and what a man that has clawed his way to get to the top looks like... I'm going to overcome all your underestimations, because there's nothing I love more than to throw everything I have at someone and then stand over them as I'm announced the winner, and I will be announced the winner...."
Santiago backs away from the camera, his blond hair now hanging in front of him, covering majority of his face. His cocksure grin emerges through his hair follicles, before he slowly walks away, leaving his thoughts reverberating throughout the arena and more importantly, the head of his challenger.
End of Segment