Post by Skull on May 9, 2010 12:06:13 GMT -5
In the afternoon before Nexus, the arena that will play host to the night’s event waits, solemnly empty. With many hours until the event begins, the stage hands are in no hurry to begin the unenviable task of contracting the metal menace and many of the talent are still travelling to the arena or hanging out backstage. In the absence of flashing lights, pumping music and the multicoloured mosaic of the fans the scene appears almost emotionless, baron; a sea of cold, empty seats on a bed of monochrome concrete. The arena remains uninhabited, save for a few crew members scurrying around. A few crew members and one man sitting cross-legged in the middle of the ring, in the very epicentre of this lifeless environment. The man sits in front of one of the cameras that will be used in the event that night, propped up on a tripod. He sits with his head bowed, seemingly in deep thought or in a state of meditation, his dank, jet-black hair cascading over his face and obscuring it from view. Eventually, he reaches forward and turns the camera on. He raises his head and brushes the hair out of his eyes, giving the camera close up of the chipped black nail varnish on his fingers. For a few seconds he says nothing, merely staring into the camera and allowing it to observe the worn expression on his face, the deep rings of eyeliner highlighting his tired eyes. Finally, he gives half a smile, laughing to himself under his breath then begins to speak in a lazy drawl, almost as if he is musing to himself, without a thought of his audience.
“In just over a few hours time, Glory and Honor wrestling will go live on Pay-Per-View for one of its landmark events; one of the highlights of the GHW calendar: Nexus. Constructed around where I’m sitting right now will be the most infamous, fearsome, ghoulish and unforgiving structure in pro wrestling today. Ten tons of steel. Four cages. One ring. One ascent to the heavens. One winner. Including myself, there are 12 competitors registered to compete inside this abomination and they will have to defeat 12 opponents to reach eternal glory. Something wrong? Those numbers don’t add up? Each competitor will have to defeat 12 opponents? You heard correctly. You see, we won’t just be fighting each other. No, there will be another opponent, the structure itself. The 13th man, if you will. Unlucky for some. Unlucky for all.”
Skull pauses for a second, as if contemplating his own words before continuing.
“Each and every one of us knows the pain we will go through tonight. Pain we won’t soon forget. But the worst pain isn’t physical. The worst pain will be felt by 11 competitors tonight as their hopes and dreams are crushed by one of their peers. I’ve been in that position before. This time last year, after a lengthy absence from GHW, I returned for Nexus, but my hopes and dreams were destroyed when Winthorp Darkrites was crowned Nexus Champion. And yet, one year on, like some many before me, I have sought to return to this Hell.”
He pauses again, this to take a folded piece of worn paper out of his pocket. He unfolds it and his eyes dart over the familiar text of the Nexus sign-up sheet for the countless time.
“So many people have talked the talk but only one will be able to walk the walk. Though whether they will retain the ability to walk once the match is over is another matter. Nevertheless, as I look down this long list of names, I see just that. Storied histories, long and memorable legacies, names etched into the memory of GHW. So much they have achieved in the past and how far many of them have fallen today. Brian Commonwealth, Dominik Santiago, Ryan Hughes, Jaggeroth, Desperado. All hot favourites to win the match, yet when was the last time they won a match? All I see are time limit draws, blown title shots and... losses to yours truly. Whereas I am undefeated, 3 for 3 since the rebirth of GHW. Do those statistics surprise you? Does it come as a shock to you that no bookmaker’s list The Pureblood as a favourite? Of course it doesn’t, I simply go unnoticed. Because, you see, while these loudmouths are out there yammering, I’m busy winning matches. Because that’s what I do. I am the sleeper success of GHW, the outside bet, the dark horse. They say it’s always the quiet ones you should watch out for and I’ll tell you why. It’s because the man who shouts the loudest is the most scared of all, trying to drown out the sound of their own self doubt, desperately trying to make themselves believe the crap that is spewing out of their mouths because maybe, just maybe, if they say it enough times it will be true. But after all, that’s just human nature.”
He stands up, taking the camera off of its tripod as he does and points it outward to the empty seats, taking a quick tour of the arena before pointing it back to his face.
“As these seats around me are filled, and the arena grows gradually louder with the sounds of laughter and happy voices, we’ll each prepare for the match in our own way, knowing full well what is in store. But the time for talking will be over. We’ll simply lace up our boots, put on our wrist tape and wait. If we dare, one or two of us might play curtain jerkers, catching a small glimpse of the witnesses of our agony, listening to their bloodthirsty chants before our music hits and we have to force our emotions down, put on a poker face and burst through the curtain like we own the place. And little do the fans know that we’re cowering behind our false confidence right up until that moment when the bell rings and adrenaline takes over. At that point, anything can happen. Enjoy the show.”
“In just over a few hours time, Glory and Honor wrestling will go live on Pay-Per-View for one of its landmark events; one of the highlights of the GHW calendar: Nexus. Constructed around where I’m sitting right now will be the most infamous, fearsome, ghoulish and unforgiving structure in pro wrestling today. Ten tons of steel. Four cages. One ring. One ascent to the heavens. One winner. Including myself, there are 12 competitors registered to compete inside this abomination and they will have to defeat 12 opponents to reach eternal glory. Something wrong? Those numbers don’t add up? Each competitor will have to defeat 12 opponents? You heard correctly. You see, we won’t just be fighting each other. No, there will be another opponent, the structure itself. The 13th man, if you will. Unlucky for some. Unlucky for all.”
Skull pauses for a second, as if contemplating his own words before continuing.
“Each and every one of us knows the pain we will go through tonight. Pain we won’t soon forget. But the worst pain isn’t physical. The worst pain will be felt by 11 competitors tonight as their hopes and dreams are crushed by one of their peers. I’ve been in that position before. This time last year, after a lengthy absence from GHW, I returned for Nexus, but my hopes and dreams were destroyed when Winthorp Darkrites was crowned Nexus Champion. And yet, one year on, like some many before me, I have sought to return to this Hell.”
He pauses again, this to take a folded piece of worn paper out of his pocket. He unfolds it and his eyes dart over the familiar text of the Nexus sign-up sheet for the countless time.
“So many people have talked the talk but only one will be able to walk the walk. Though whether they will retain the ability to walk once the match is over is another matter. Nevertheless, as I look down this long list of names, I see just that. Storied histories, long and memorable legacies, names etched into the memory of GHW. So much they have achieved in the past and how far many of them have fallen today. Brian Commonwealth, Dominik Santiago, Ryan Hughes, Jaggeroth, Desperado. All hot favourites to win the match, yet when was the last time they won a match? All I see are time limit draws, blown title shots and... losses to yours truly. Whereas I am undefeated, 3 for 3 since the rebirth of GHW. Do those statistics surprise you? Does it come as a shock to you that no bookmaker’s list The Pureblood as a favourite? Of course it doesn’t, I simply go unnoticed. Because, you see, while these loudmouths are out there yammering, I’m busy winning matches. Because that’s what I do. I am the sleeper success of GHW, the outside bet, the dark horse. They say it’s always the quiet ones you should watch out for and I’ll tell you why. It’s because the man who shouts the loudest is the most scared of all, trying to drown out the sound of their own self doubt, desperately trying to make themselves believe the crap that is spewing out of their mouths because maybe, just maybe, if they say it enough times it will be true. But after all, that’s just human nature.”
He stands up, taking the camera off of its tripod as he does and points it outward to the empty seats, taking a quick tour of the arena before pointing it back to his face.
“As these seats around me are filled, and the arena grows gradually louder with the sounds of laughter and happy voices, we’ll each prepare for the match in our own way, knowing full well what is in store. But the time for talking will be over. We’ll simply lace up our boots, put on our wrist tape and wait. If we dare, one or two of us might play curtain jerkers, catching a small glimpse of the witnesses of our agony, listening to their bloodthirsty chants before our music hits and we have to force our emotions down, put on a poker face and burst through the curtain like we own the place. And little do the fans know that we’re cowering behind our false confidence right up until that moment when the bell rings and adrenaline takes over. At that point, anything can happen. Enjoy the show.”
