Post by frenforleg on Nov 8, 2012 18:45:28 GMT -5
A military montage begins on screen, as the Legion Etrangere gets ready to debut.
· Both men run across railroad ties suspended 10 feet above the ground
· Various shots of overcoming obstacles (broken-down stairs, ropes across holes and ditches)
· Joaquin is spun around in a chair blindfolded and then dropped into a pool
· Oleg punches a tree trunk until his fists bleed, at which point he begins punching a pile of salt
· Both men drill among the random explosions, while Mercier fires off a machine gun
· Joaquin is buried up to his head by Oleg
· Oleg does chin-ups with Joaquin hanging from his neck
· The pair are seen marching through torrential rain, gusty winds, mud and icy slush
· They perform live fire exercises, dodging fire from trainers
· The team stands in the middle of a room, as horde of men storm them and fighting ensues
Over all of this, Mercier’s voice is heard
Wrestling was a sport of kings, but it has become a game for the aggrandizement of fools. You fight for money, for power and for the trappings others throw to you; no honour. Once we fought for glory and the adulation that the throng showered upon us. Time and again I asked you to listen, I counselled you against such depravity, but you wouldn’t heed. So I went out and found men who would; men that will defend the weak and uphold the virtue of our sport. Their loyalty to the cause is unwavering, their spirits are undaunted, and their passion is indomitable. Monsieur GM, you give us high praise indeed to allow us an opportunity at challenging for the position of primacy in team competition; we will always seek to be worthy of the confidence you place in us.
Logging Crew, you represent all that’s wrong with professional wrestling, you prey on the weak to swell your pride and fight without respect for your foes. My tag team lives by a code of conduct, they wrestle honestly, but their will to win is insatiable. Two fledglings proved themselves almost a match for you, and in your embarrassment you attacked them as a petulant child might overturn a chessboard. I fear that is all that you are, undisciplined children, unworthy of the opportunity you have been given. There is no stronger bond than that forged between men in combat, and when your petty antics fail you in the ring, I hope you’ll have the decency to surrender to the superior force.
The montage fades and the Commandant and his tag team stand centre
Lumberjacks? I used a chain saw in Colombia, but I never cut down trees. You’re in too deep my friends; you are fighting a war you cannot hope to win. Others fell before you, but not us. On TNT, you will be humbled to the sound of the cheering crowd. This time there’ll be no songs from you, no triumphant bellows. The people will watch you fail and see you for the pathetic tormenters you truly are, and they will laugh you to shame. Go back to the forest.
Am I to fear you, little men? I remember a dark cellar, with the doors ripped off the hinges. Everybody running straight into some sticky liquid—not water— blood; blood up to my knees, my waist, my chest. On the walls and the ceiling are chunks of rotten flesh, piles of bleeding entrails. We crawl beneath barbed wire, they throw some sheep's innards on us. There is only one way out —forwards. That was training, but now we go forward, over you, through you, no retreat, no quarter given, no mercy shown.
After TNT, they will haul away The Logging Crew with their own chains and we will go on to liberate the tag team titles and hold them as true champions. For Righteousness! For Virtue! For Liberty! For Our Fans!
· Both men run across railroad ties suspended 10 feet above the ground
· Various shots of overcoming obstacles (broken-down stairs, ropes across holes and ditches)
· Joaquin is spun around in a chair blindfolded and then dropped into a pool
· Oleg punches a tree trunk until his fists bleed, at which point he begins punching a pile of salt
· Both men drill among the random explosions, while Mercier fires off a machine gun
· Joaquin is buried up to his head by Oleg
· Oleg does chin-ups with Joaquin hanging from his neck
· The pair are seen marching through torrential rain, gusty winds, mud and icy slush
· They perform live fire exercises, dodging fire from trainers
· The team stands in the middle of a room, as horde of men storm them and fighting ensues
Over all of this, Mercier’s voice is heard
Wrestling was a sport of kings, but it has become a game for the aggrandizement of fools. You fight for money, for power and for the trappings others throw to you; no honour. Once we fought for glory and the adulation that the throng showered upon us. Time and again I asked you to listen, I counselled you against such depravity, but you wouldn’t heed. So I went out and found men who would; men that will defend the weak and uphold the virtue of our sport. Their loyalty to the cause is unwavering, their spirits are undaunted, and their passion is indomitable. Monsieur GM, you give us high praise indeed to allow us an opportunity at challenging for the position of primacy in team competition; we will always seek to be worthy of the confidence you place in us.
Logging Crew, you represent all that’s wrong with professional wrestling, you prey on the weak to swell your pride and fight without respect for your foes. My tag team lives by a code of conduct, they wrestle honestly, but their will to win is insatiable. Two fledglings proved themselves almost a match for you, and in your embarrassment you attacked them as a petulant child might overturn a chessboard. I fear that is all that you are, undisciplined children, unworthy of the opportunity you have been given. There is no stronger bond than that forged between men in combat, and when your petty antics fail you in the ring, I hope you’ll have the decency to surrender to the superior force.
The montage fades and the Commandant and his tag team stand centre
Lumberjacks? I used a chain saw in Colombia, but I never cut down trees. You’re in too deep my friends; you are fighting a war you cannot hope to win. Others fell before you, but not us. On TNT, you will be humbled to the sound of the cheering crowd. This time there’ll be no songs from you, no triumphant bellows. The people will watch you fail and see you for the pathetic tormenters you truly are, and they will laugh you to shame. Go back to the forest.
Am I to fear you, little men? I remember a dark cellar, with the doors ripped off the hinges. Everybody running straight into some sticky liquid—not water— blood; blood up to my knees, my waist, my chest. On the walls and the ceiling are chunks of rotten flesh, piles of bleeding entrails. We crawl beneath barbed wire, they throw some sheep's innards on us. There is only one way out —forwards. That was training, but now we go forward, over you, through you, no retreat, no quarter given, no mercy shown.
After TNT, they will haul away The Logging Crew with their own chains and we will go on to liberate the tag team titles and hold them as true champions. For Righteousness! For Virtue! For Liberty! For Our Fans!