Post by Psychotic Circus on Jan 27, 2013 5:24:58 GMT -5
"Your lives are all meaningless...."
-The scene starts with Jerry Nate's cryptic words as he stares into the camera while it pans out to reveal his whereabouts. The 16th street mall of Denver, Colorado could be seen in the faint light that was coming from the billboards along with the chattering of the background crowd. He was sitting complacently at his wrought iron table, leaning back against a chair made of the same material in the outside section of the BD Mongolian grill. A beer in hand slipped up to his lips and was slurped with a swift gulp to send it right into beer hell and out of existence as one of Denver's famous January warm rain showers sprinkled him from above.-
"You all think you know the joke, and can fathom what the punchline will be, yet...you've never even heard the joke before. Oh, you have heard it, the joke, but like most humans you don't listen. You fill yourself with ego, hide behind the facade of your own skin while your mind jumbles around to make you feel better, because in all honestly your life is the joke, and your death is a hilarious, often painfully obvious yet unexpected punch line. And that brings us to an upcoming event, one that happens six times a year, an event that everyone looks so forward too because they see it as a time of change, new beginnings, the start of their road to glory and so forth with all of that meaningless babble. I'm talking of course about Dawn of Destruction. Our up coming Pay-per-view."
-The eyes roll in the back of Jerry's head and accompanied with a loud grunt of dissatisfaction pouring slowly from his lungs. Puffs of smoke fill the air as Jerry lights on up and holds a vertical pointed finger towards the camera as he savors his flavor.-
"Where to start with all of this self imposed dumb-assery? How about with that Speed Freak himself, Jack Tracks? Where to begin with you...you're a big man, you like to go fast but you're merely living in the shadows of the greatest big men, never achieving enough to place yourself on any map that people feel is desirable in any fashion. You're like Nick Carson, only Nick Carson got shit done sometimes...but not when facing up against me. Yet here you are, biting at my ankles after I had gained my glory, and reaffirmed the honor that being a King of Death should uphold. Nothing is going to help you when that cage door is locked, your size is of a negligible advantage..."
"Joshua Vandiver. How do I start to describe you? The way you change your name around here like a confused cross-dresser? Or your undeserved sense of entitlement? First you were Dustin Delta, then for some reason you thought you could make yourself more appealing by associating yourself with a character from a book, and took up the name Alice. Like all hipsters you clung to the past to make yourself new and exciting, but failed utterly because we all saw through your one dimensional plate of glass, you were nothing but a confused little boy who hasn't found himself, or you're afraid to let yourself be out there. Nothing has changed about you, you changed your name again and are clinging to an even more illustrious form to get your name out there, only problem is she's about as mentally crippled as you are and there's only one thing you've ever done while joining her side, without getting any of that thigh...you bitch, you moan, you groan and complain in stereo about how you deserve so much, yet you've only done so little here. Both of you! But, we'll get back to her in a minute, I have some sterner words for that Harlot...Know this Josh, you can be a Vandiver, or a short bus driver, it'll leave the same impression on the world either way come that glorious Sunday where we do battle for the first time."
"That brings us to Vincent Vegas. A Nevada resident who was the talk of the GHW world as the next big thing. Glitz and glamour followed this man around in his unique mystique that he brought to the ring. He seemed destined for greatness, early and long reigns with his perfected style. That is, until I dragged you out of your element, took away the ring and brought you down to the level you truly belonged in. Fighting amongst the scum of the Earth, in their dimly lighted hollow of a wretched hell hole with the unwashed masses clamoring around us. While it's in the history books as a double count out, I still continued to reign supreme as the King of Death. Did you learn your lesson? No, because while you were the best test subject and had some promising results, you reverted right back to the man, nay, filthy beast you were."
-A long fit of clapping disguised as a salute to the Nevada resident clamored in front of the camera as the cigarette burned off its last signs of life.-
"While I am effectively angered at your actions Vincent, you're still doing better than the Logging Crew. A group that is being inserted into our match taking the form of Dow Jone's safety net against the over whelming odds of me keeping my title at Dawn of Destruction. I know their purpose in this match, it's to be an elite team, infiltrate the cage and complete their mission, all the while being unaware that they had played into the GM's hands this whole time. There's a problem with all of these plots and shenanigans, they've already proved that they're not the team you need, but they're the ones you deserve for trying to change the fates. Last week I proved a little dabbling in the dark arts was enough to send the simple Cletus running for his life and abandoning his partner. Big Jim, a little less of a simple man, but with what seems like years of mental baggage that he'll carry off with him into the Apocalypse. You'd turn against your partner in a heart beat if it meant victory, and you proved that before. The problem is simple, kill one of the other...personally I'm rooting for Big Jim, I so ever did enjoy our match last week....
"...now, I was asked to say one more simple thing here on the status of another title. There are four foolish mortals all making a claim for it...yet they forget their places. Demon, we enjoy your work and see you as a force that is almost on our level, so you get a pass and outstanding marks from...the other side. And know that you'd be accepted with open arms if you showed up on our door steps. Kahlan, you don't. You're nothing but a girl with daddy issues ,who tries to rebel against all the people you deem father like, with shocking statements that aren't shocking for today's average preschooler anymore. You try to hang on to that last thread of something, you're a multi-time t.v title holder and yet...you're nothing. A Euro Brat who thinks she has anything left to give except what all she really has to give anymore is the soft meat between her legs...and that's it."
"Millson, you seem to be living out your purpose well. For you see, a pity win means that you're nothing but a placeholder for Father...the grunt work. You can bath in his glory all you want, but know that it's as artificial as your sunlamp, you pasty ass, meat and potatoes snore of a personality. You know, you know that your time is up, and it won't be for you to decide...."
-Another crisp roll of menthol flavored tobacco is lit up, deep and painful inhales are taken on the poor tube of Jerry Treats before he opens his mouth with a puff of angered smoke.-
"...And that finally brings us to the top of the unhealthy, unsavory collapse of humanity that this company still tries to parade around as a God Send to us all. Haven "Attention Whore" Cassady. How many title shots do you really need? Hmmm? Because when the others fail, and by others I mean the entire roster of GHW, when we fail at getting a title, we're told no when we want another shot. Why do you get two? Two in a row as the main event of a PPV no doubt...It's simple, actually. You get whatever you want because they like to place you up as a symbol, a symbol of hope and character. Something every women, nay, every human being should strive to be. And I couldn't be more disgusted with that than I already am. The office has set aside a team for her, personal assistants who clamor to her every need, and want just to make her happy. You cry to Kahlan into your next title match, all so you can finally parade around your greatest victory in people's face, but you haven't planned for the next step..."
"You have become complacent in your role as you sit around backstage, glued to that cell phone as you do more bitching about subjects that do not further us as a species in any way, shape or form. The work is done for you while you show up and step all over everyone in the back who would bark like a dog and abandon all their pride just to have a nibble out of what you've been given, and you all wonder why I've gone sour. Neither option is acceptable!"
-Jerry Nate stood up from his table, water droplets falling from his skin as he reached over the patio barrier and grabbed at someone and pulled them into the camera's sight. It was a hobo, but he was looking better than the average homeless man. He looked on with a sense of fear as Jerry delivered his sermon.-
"Begging like a man out of options, or being handed what you don't deserve are not acceptable. You may call it entitlement, or charity. I call it being weak towards the weak. This man here is homeless, he hasn't begged a single person for anything since I've been here. I could see him, sitting on the cold concrete and accepting that as a man, no, a beast of god's godawful design that he himself needed to go back to his roots to survive! And for that, I admire this man. I will not look down on him like you pathetic worms who have everything will. I will give him my pity, but nothing else but the hope of saying: I believe in you. Go, make your mark on this earth..."
-Jerry let the man loose after that awkward moment and glanced back up at the camera with the crazy eye.-
"I'm going to tell you a story...there was once a man who walked among you in the days of old. He was handed nothing, he had to go out there every single night and left everything he could give on that mat. And you all despised him for it, judged him harshly and refused to let him take what was rightfully his. That man had to go against the system at every turn, out smarting the board of directors and doing what he did best. Fight. But no, he was banned from this realm, barred off by the then Gods because he was a heretic, and they only saw him as a dog who would not beg for the meat he had taken for himself. He fought, he didn't sit back and accept things like a lazy ingrate, or cried of lawsuits because he knew he could best all of you. And he did...and now it looks like in his absence, you've all become a group of whiny bitches... complacent now that your apex predator hasn't been around to force you into being what you need to be. Better...."
-With that, Jerry's fist slammed against the table, crumpling the wrought iron beneath it as if it were paper.-
"I WILL FORCE YOU ALL TO EVOLVE! Come February 17th, every body that enters that tower will be sent backstage in a plastic bag! I refuse to accept that this is all I have to contend with. I crave more competition, competition that isn't predictable, competition that will challenge me myself to keep a better eye on my kingdom...the boogeyman may not be around to scare you into being the species you are meant to be. This place used to be fun and exciting 24/7, and now it's full of pessimists and men who refuse to evolve from the mind set of children. The beasts must come out, and we all must start playing on a level playing ground, or else our existence was meaningless and this was all done to do nothing but entertain a few people to settle their blood lust...no, we are here to quench our thirst for the red liquid in each other's veins! There used to be a time when you walked through the back doors of that arena and knew your life was in danger, Father would stalk the halls, weeding out the weak, those who did not played by the laws of human kind, and those who did finally obey and played the game of Man, they were better people for it. They knew they could call themselves true warriors at the end of the day."
"Now, the choice is simple. You can continue being a group of Latte' sipping, smart phone dependent cattle like the entire U.S populace, sitting there waiting for what you know you deserve, an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere...or, you can be predators. Deserving a place in Valhalla and a grave with honors adorning it. It's a very simple choice and all it takes is you...that's it. I already know what I'm going to do, and that's walk out with my title at Dawn of Destruction. You can accept that...or you can evolve into a threat...now get that fucking camera out of my face..."
-The camera man knew better as he backed away and left Jerry to enjoy his alone time in downtown Denver.-
-The scene starts with Jerry Nate's cryptic words as he stares into the camera while it pans out to reveal his whereabouts. The 16th street mall of Denver, Colorado could be seen in the faint light that was coming from the billboards along with the chattering of the background crowd. He was sitting complacently at his wrought iron table, leaning back against a chair made of the same material in the outside section of the BD Mongolian grill. A beer in hand slipped up to his lips and was slurped with a swift gulp to send it right into beer hell and out of existence as one of Denver's famous January warm rain showers sprinkled him from above.-
"You all think you know the joke, and can fathom what the punchline will be, yet...you've never even heard the joke before. Oh, you have heard it, the joke, but like most humans you don't listen. You fill yourself with ego, hide behind the facade of your own skin while your mind jumbles around to make you feel better, because in all honestly your life is the joke, and your death is a hilarious, often painfully obvious yet unexpected punch line. And that brings us to an upcoming event, one that happens six times a year, an event that everyone looks so forward too because they see it as a time of change, new beginnings, the start of their road to glory and so forth with all of that meaningless babble. I'm talking of course about Dawn of Destruction. Our up coming Pay-per-view."
-The eyes roll in the back of Jerry's head and accompanied with a loud grunt of dissatisfaction pouring slowly from his lungs. Puffs of smoke fill the air as Jerry lights on up and holds a vertical pointed finger towards the camera as he savors his flavor.-
"Where to start with all of this self imposed dumb-assery? How about with that Speed Freak himself, Jack Tracks? Where to begin with you...you're a big man, you like to go fast but you're merely living in the shadows of the greatest big men, never achieving enough to place yourself on any map that people feel is desirable in any fashion. You're like Nick Carson, only Nick Carson got shit done sometimes...but not when facing up against me. Yet here you are, biting at my ankles after I had gained my glory, and reaffirmed the honor that being a King of Death should uphold. Nothing is going to help you when that cage door is locked, your size is of a negligible advantage..."
"Joshua Vandiver. How do I start to describe you? The way you change your name around here like a confused cross-dresser? Or your undeserved sense of entitlement? First you were Dustin Delta, then for some reason you thought you could make yourself more appealing by associating yourself with a character from a book, and took up the name Alice. Like all hipsters you clung to the past to make yourself new and exciting, but failed utterly because we all saw through your one dimensional plate of glass, you were nothing but a confused little boy who hasn't found himself, or you're afraid to let yourself be out there. Nothing has changed about you, you changed your name again and are clinging to an even more illustrious form to get your name out there, only problem is she's about as mentally crippled as you are and there's only one thing you've ever done while joining her side, without getting any of that thigh...you bitch, you moan, you groan and complain in stereo about how you deserve so much, yet you've only done so little here. Both of you! But, we'll get back to her in a minute, I have some sterner words for that Harlot...Know this Josh, you can be a Vandiver, or a short bus driver, it'll leave the same impression on the world either way come that glorious Sunday where we do battle for the first time."
"That brings us to Vincent Vegas. A Nevada resident who was the talk of the GHW world as the next big thing. Glitz and glamour followed this man around in his unique mystique that he brought to the ring. He seemed destined for greatness, early and long reigns with his perfected style. That is, until I dragged you out of your element, took away the ring and brought you down to the level you truly belonged in. Fighting amongst the scum of the Earth, in their dimly lighted hollow of a wretched hell hole with the unwashed masses clamoring around us. While it's in the history books as a double count out, I still continued to reign supreme as the King of Death. Did you learn your lesson? No, because while you were the best test subject and had some promising results, you reverted right back to the man, nay, filthy beast you were."
-A long fit of clapping disguised as a salute to the Nevada resident clamored in front of the camera as the cigarette burned off its last signs of life.-
"While I am effectively angered at your actions Vincent, you're still doing better than the Logging Crew. A group that is being inserted into our match taking the form of Dow Jone's safety net against the over whelming odds of me keeping my title at Dawn of Destruction. I know their purpose in this match, it's to be an elite team, infiltrate the cage and complete their mission, all the while being unaware that they had played into the GM's hands this whole time. There's a problem with all of these plots and shenanigans, they've already proved that they're not the team you need, but they're the ones you deserve for trying to change the fates. Last week I proved a little dabbling in the dark arts was enough to send the simple Cletus running for his life and abandoning his partner. Big Jim, a little less of a simple man, but with what seems like years of mental baggage that he'll carry off with him into the Apocalypse. You'd turn against your partner in a heart beat if it meant victory, and you proved that before. The problem is simple, kill one of the other...personally I'm rooting for Big Jim, I so ever did enjoy our match last week....
"...now, I was asked to say one more simple thing here on the status of another title. There are four foolish mortals all making a claim for it...yet they forget their places. Demon, we enjoy your work and see you as a force that is almost on our level, so you get a pass and outstanding marks from...the other side. And know that you'd be accepted with open arms if you showed up on our door steps. Kahlan, you don't. You're nothing but a girl with daddy issues ,who tries to rebel against all the people you deem father like, with shocking statements that aren't shocking for today's average preschooler anymore. You try to hang on to that last thread of something, you're a multi-time t.v title holder and yet...you're nothing. A Euro Brat who thinks she has anything left to give except what all she really has to give anymore is the soft meat between her legs...and that's it."
"Millson, you seem to be living out your purpose well. For you see, a pity win means that you're nothing but a placeholder for Father...the grunt work. You can bath in his glory all you want, but know that it's as artificial as your sunlamp, you pasty ass, meat and potatoes snore of a personality. You know, you know that your time is up, and it won't be for you to decide...."
-Another crisp roll of menthol flavored tobacco is lit up, deep and painful inhales are taken on the poor tube of Jerry Treats before he opens his mouth with a puff of angered smoke.-
"...And that finally brings us to the top of the unhealthy, unsavory collapse of humanity that this company still tries to parade around as a God Send to us all. Haven "Attention Whore" Cassady. How many title shots do you really need? Hmmm? Because when the others fail, and by others I mean the entire roster of GHW, when we fail at getting a title, we're told no when we want another shot. Why do you get two? Two in a row as the main event of a PPV no doubt...It's simple, actually. You get whatever you want because they like to place you up as a symbol, a symbol of hope and character. Something every women, nay, every human being should strive to be. And I couldn't be more disgusted with that than I already am. The office has set aside a team for her, personal assistants who clamor to her every need, and want just to make her happy. You cry to Kahlan into your next title match, all so you can finally parade around your greatest victory in people's face, but you haven't planned for the next step..."
"You have become complacent in your role as you sit around backstage, glued to that cell phone as you do more bitching about subjects that do not further us as a species in any way, shape or form. The work is done for you while you show up and step all over everyone in the back who would bark like a dog and abandon all their pride just to have a nibble out of what you've been given, and you all wonder why I've gone sour. Neither option is acceptable!"
-Jerry Nate stood up from his table, water droplets falling from his skin as he reached over the patio barrier and grabbed at someone and pulled them into the camera's sight. It was a hobo, but he was looking better than the average homeless man. He looked on with a sense of fear as Jerry delivered his sermon.-
"Begging like a man out of options, or being handed what you don't deserve are not acceptable. You may call it entitlement, or charity. I call it being weak towards the weak. This man here is homeless, he hasn't begged a single person for anything since I've been here. I could see him, sitting on the cold concrete and accepting that as a man, no, a beast of god's godawful design that he himself needed to go back to his roots to survive! And for that, I admire this man. I will not look down on him like you pathetic worms who have everything will. I will give him my pity, but nothing else but the hope of saying: I believe in you. Go, make your mark on this earth..."
-Jerry let the man loose after that awkward moment and glanced back up at the camera with the crazy eye.-
"I'm going to tell you a story...there was once a man who walked among you in the days of old. He was handed nothing, he had to go out there every single night and left everything he could give on that mat. And you all despised him for it, judged him harshly and refused to let him take what was rightfully his. That man had to go against the system at every turn, out smarting the board of directors and doing what he did best. Fight. But no, he was banned from this realm, barred off by the then Gods because he was a heretic, and they only saw him as a dog who would not beg for the meat he had taken for himself. He fought, he didn't sit back and accept things like a lazy ingrate, or cried of lawsuits because he knew he could best all of you. And he did...and now it looks like in his absence, you've all become a group of whiny bitches... complacent now that your apex predator hasn't been around to force you into being what you need to be. Better...."
-With that, Jerry's fist slammed against the table, crumpling the wrought iron beneath it as if it were paper.-
"I WILL FORCE YOU ALL TO EVOLVE! Come February 17th, every body that enters that tower will be sent backstage in a plastic bag! I refuse to accept that this is all I have to contend with. I crave more competition, competition that isn't predictable, competition that will challenge me myself to keep a better eye on my kingdom...the boogeyman may not be around to scare you into being the species you are meant to be. This place used to be fun and exciting 24/7, and now it's full of pessimists and men who refuse to evolve from the mind set of children. The beasts must come out, and we all must start playing on a level playing ground, or else our existence was meaningless and this was all done to do nothing but entertain a few people to settle their blood lust...no, we are here to quench our thirst for the red liquid in each other's veins! There used to be a time when you walked through the back doors of that arena and knew your life was in danger, Father would stalk the halls, weeding out the weak, those who did not played by the laws of human kind, and those who did finally obey and played the game of Man, they were better people for it. They knew they could call themselves true warriors at the end of the day."
"Now, the choice is simple. You can continue being a group of Latte' sipping, smart phone dependent cattle like the entire U.S populace, sitting there waiting for what you know you deserve, an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere...or, you can be predators. Deserving a place in Valhalla and a grave with honors adorning it. It's a very simple choice and all it takes is you...that's it. I already know what I'm going to do, and that's walk out with my title at Dawn of Destruction. You can accept that...or you can evolve into a threat...now get that fucking camera out of my face..."
-The camera man knew better as he backed away and left Jerry to enjoy his alone time in downtown Denver.-
