CEO
USER IS OFFLINE
Years Old
I bury hatchets, but I keep maps to where I put 'em.
601 POSTS & 58 LIKES
|
Post by Eden on Aug 9, 2021 14:48:08 GMT -5
MATCH #01 TAG CHAMPIONSHIP TORNADO RULES
ICONOCLAST (TC) [VS] SOULLESS SISTERS
PROMO LIMITS
1 PIECE @3000 OR 2 PIECES @1500(e)
DATE: AUGUST 21, 2021 | DEADLINE: MIDNIGHT FRIDAY 8/20
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 12, 2021 0:17:35 GMT -5
ֆօʊʟֆ+ֆɛʀքɛռȶֆ A Radical Concoction
Let me tell you about the empty dresses in front of us. Shriveling nobodies who think supernatural is unique to them. There are other ways to have these experiences other than powers. Do you believe Soulless Sisters? You want to see a little experiment? Want to become one? Come on. It'll be fun. We'll hold your hands.
OOoooooOooo NoooOOoo! We can't touch those claws!
They're dirty and oh so corrosive. Brown, haven't seen a broom and dustpan for quite a while. What was once a fun attraction. Something people wanted to see. Champions reigning on. But like all good rides, it came to an end, a complete stop. Your hands and arms may have been inside the vehicle, but it's rusted shut. Soulless is the severance of yesterday that we pay today. A relic we all have to hear about on an old recording our parents have. Particles left dangling in the air as a tribute to the past... dead to the future. Souls were the way wrestlers used to measure how effective they were. Could they take your soul? But that was then- now? Cold blooded serpents like Chris Chaos and Gabe Reno are putting the squeeze on. Skellies paid a very final price for their trivial misgivings. We took their titles, and their bones. So soulless or not, we will take. We already took their place that they took from you. What should we take now? Your last gasp? A reaching for air in a spotlight you no longer shine bright enough to see? Whatever takes the greatest toll. Serpents starved for more than just a soul. Famished to douse your flame. Iconoclast as champions will remain.
ֆ
We hear arcade sounds. Some commotion then a blank screen. In the dead of night it started. Snakes came up from the ground in the tiny town of Hillsbury. If that name sounds familiar, it should, since it borders a shadowy place known as the Asylum. In the foreground the rustling grass moving in the dark. Deep slithering the only sound. Switching to the cafeteria, Gabe and Chris sit eating while shackled to the lunch table. Across the way one of the new people is giving Chaos a penetrating look.
"The fuck is this guy's problem? These spam patties taste like shit."
"I don't know, some of the guys were talking about him being possessed..."
"What, by what? Possessed by what?"
"Some sort of WiTcH DoCtOr."
"Yeah whatever, it's creepin' me out."
Snakes begin to scale the walls of Sanatorium. Wide scaled muscle forcing bars a part, crumbling walls and steel. The creepy stare guy stands, raising his arms in balance. Serpents begin falling through the high barred windows above the vents. Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Chefs and servers get devoured first in the kitchen. Screams are quickly replaced with gurgling on blood and puss. Meanwhile, Gabe and Chaos stare at the same standing, as a loud collective hissing becomes too blaring to ignore.
"What the..."
"FUCK!"
Chaos pulls Gabe out of the way of an incoming fang diver. The two get low and move as inmates around them begin shivering from the venom. Chaos stops to suck the poison out of a woman's teet. Reno pulls him into the next room. The woman Chaos helped sighs in relief then admires him walk away, just before a large serpent swallows her head. Reno continues down the hall cautiously, ducking and dodging anywhere there's movement. They finally reach the Infirmary, locking the door, and quickly covering the high bar open windows.
"What the hell is this, a plague!? What are we gonna do?"
Gabe walks around looking for anything they can use.
"I don't know! Let me THINK! What's over heree... uhhh- okay we can do this..."
Suddenly they turns as a snake flies out of the ventilation tube.
"GABBBBEEEE!!??"
"WHAT'S THATT!!??"
They duck as the snake flies past trying to lunge backward. It hits a glass enclosure, then falls down onto a circuit board. Sparks fly around the room, the snake is electrocuted as the lights dim in and out from the surge. The infirmary doors flies open. The staring man from the cafeteria stands before them as things fly around his gravitational area.
"It's the creeper dude! Don't let him touch me! Look at those hungry eyes!"
"Chris we can do this, look at me! We're fucking Champions!"
Gabe and Chaos rise as an army of serpents gather behind the Creep. He moves his arms forward as the snakes slither toward the HQ Tag Champions. Chaos flicks his blonde hair, Gabe delivers a trademark smirk, they pull out their championship belts; slicing and dicing leads to a funnel of snake parts flying across the room. Flopping abandoned parts slither and bleed all around their feet. The Creepy man moans loudly, seeming in a weakened state from the loss of his extensions. Reno stomps radically on one last snake; Chris spears a large anaconda into a glass menagerie. The two Icons rotate back toward each other in an epic turn of fate. Angered and covered in guts, they run together step of step and lead, connecting with brute force; bursting the man into a steaming pile of snake guts and human skin. The two land in their normal finishing poses. Chaos can't fucking help himself.
"We're the serpents now!"
The arcade sounds get louder as the game ends. We seen the glaring reflections in the screen of Chris Chaos and Gabe Reno standing with a marketing agent with various gold Iconoclast merchandise surrounding them.
"What do you think? Over the top?"
"Weird, but FUCKIING AWESOME ALSO DUUUDE!"
"Riiiigghht!??"
They high five as the two follow their marketing guy into the next room to look at more items for WWH fan consumption. Panning back the the video game we just witnessed, the title on top reads Iconoclast; Conquering Souls & Serpents.
ֆ
Until this match was booked everyone thought the Soulless were already gone. That's the measure of their current impact on WWH. Dystopia? Sanatorium? Isle? Slipping out of the fans consciousness's all the while. You used to catch them signing autographs at company events, and now they blow over empty, like a Soulless little tent.
It's a deadly game you're playing, Order of the Soulless. How many of you are even left at this point? Gwen? Charlotte? Lily? Bring all three! We can bring Pedro the Panda, and cut you old reptiles in half. Did you like our video game? It's based on a true story. The one we are writing on the way to Dystopia. The one where you get dissected. Monica Mayhem- what a joke. I've got a "righteous raven" for her, it looks a lot like my wrestling boots. But not the good boots, the ones I train in that are worn down- like you. There is an apocalypse coming, but it isn't at your order. It's the Iliad of Iconoclast.
Chris Chaos is a World Champion. I am a World Champion. We are Tag Champions of the World.
And what are you? Former this? Used to be that? Coulda- woulda- shoulda?
No thanks, keep it to yourselves.
What we are is inescapable. You can't turn this game off.
Our venom isn't simply injected. But it does destroy everything you are, were, and will ever be. Our reign has just began. And we continue it by putting another chapter of history to rest. Tucking it in late at night, and turning out the fucking lights. Soulless Sisters were fun, but they're just not trending. 15 minutes are up. It's goes so fast, I know- this is where people typically say comforting things, but it won't be comforting! We will beat you until you can no longer defend yourself, then we will put you away, or on the shelf. Either way we walk out with belts, and you roll out on whatever wheels it takes. Stretcher? Gurney? Ambulance? Hearse?
Doesn't really matter to us.
We are indifferent to what happens to you.
Because you're just empty souls, and we're the serpents.
[words#1344]
|
|
Former Champion
10 POSTS & 2 LIKES
|
Post by Charlotte Ross on Aug 19, 2021 19:22:27 GMT -5
As the scene opens, we see sitting in a rough-looking leather chair at the end of a long table is "The Slayer" Charlotte Ross is glowering at some unseen figure. Her eyes narrowed behind a scarlet half mask that lets her black hair hang loosely behind her head.
Since time recorded, man has asked about the nature of his existence. Since he first emerged from his stick-lit caves; he looked to the heavens and amongst himself for answers. In all this searching man has learned much and reached far but we really are not much different than the savages that first dragged their knuckles from those caves. We are still blinded by the most carnal and animal of emotions: fear.
Reaching just out of frame, she seemingly pulls a large decanter of a murky red liquid. Reaching out with her left, she does the same seemingly magical action and produces a large crystal glass of a similar make to the decanter. She continues to speak as she slowly pours herself a drink.
Fear is seemingly unconquerable. And what is that we as man fear the most? Adversity. We fear being stricken down by our enemies and by things from the outside. All of manes advancement has been an attempt to combat these adversaries. A million years of warfare; rifted with tools of wood and stone that gave ways to metal and pure cataclysmic energy. Probes of medical nature seeks to heal our bodies, steady our minds and strength our hearts have washed over us. A brilliant march of progress driven by one thing: fear of defeat.
Finishing the pour, she takes a long sip from the goblet. It is slowly and heavy into in progress; her throat pulsing with pleasure and satisfaction. She drinks deeply till the red mystery liquid dribbles from the upturned corners of her mouth. Finishing the glass; she starts to pour another.
Man fears what we cannot control. We fear enemies that seeks to harm us. We fear diseases of the body and mind. We fight vigorously to overcome these things yet it is none of these things that is truly our enemy. No; the greatest enemy we ever will faced; one we will lose against every time is time it self. Nothing resist it systematic death march. Mountains turn to dust; forest become wastelands; flesh of all creeds, colors, genders, makeup and means rot then wither then decay into nothing but dust and worm food. It is inevitable and unavoidable... Time never stops moving; it eventually catches up to everyone. Even you two, Iconoclast.
This time she drinks just a short drag from her glass. Now she drinks only so that she may consume what is before her for pleasure; greed and gluttony for what she feels like she deserves.
You may have forgotten but a little over a year ago, a trifling bit of time in the grand scheme of things, We promised you WE were coming for you. A great deal has happened since then. We still are one of the most dominant teams here in the W.W.H. Or should we replay what we did to the Shinigami Foundation for you two to look upon.
Another pause is followed by another sip of the scarlet liquid; lines of it still sticking to the curves of her mouth as drips of it nestles her well-shaped lips.
But that is not all of it though. You two have been an admirable champions but your reign has been... Tainted. You never really had a challenge befitting a team of your caliber. Many have tried but none have succeeded. Well the time has come for your to face the facts: you two are not the kings of the hill for much longer. You two are not some conquering heroes or insurmountable wonders. You two are relic of the past; a saber rattling fool that stands at the top of a parade of fools. Time has destroyed that lifeline. While WE...
Lady Black and Lilith Evans emerge from the shadows behind her.
Have only surround ourselves in glory.
She finishes her drink and stands; her shadow looming over the table.
And now; it is time for the slaughter. The Iconoclast has softened; been rendered smooth by the rigor of time. Now is the moment for our greatest conquest. Iconoclast; come time for Salvation. You two have two options: watch the world you two have seemingly built be burnt to the ground or attempt to fight us like the snakes you claim to be. Time is coming for you Iconoclast. I pray you two use it well.
With a sudden rush; a howling winds blows through the air; darken the room till the only thing that can be seen is the sparkling scarlet mask of The Slayer and her seemingly blood stained teeth; locked in sinister grin. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Then the scene reopens, we see "The Slayer" Charlotte Ross is now sitting on a darkened throne. The location of which is unable to be determined. The only thing noticeable about the environment is that it appears to be raining. She lounges in the darkened throne which appears to have a faded wooden finish upon closer inspection. And to her right is an end table with a highball glass just slightly filled with an unknown dark-colored drink. She is dressed down for the occasion, eschewing her usual dark dress attire for a more casual look of faded jeans and a gray blouse. The only thing that stands out is her signature weapon, The Club; this particular hardened Kendo Stick being shown not far from her reach. She takes a sip from the glass as the camera focuses on her profile. As she speaks, she does not address the camera, instead, she appears to be looking out at the rain.
"The Slayer" Charlotte Ross You never truly know when the storm has arrived. The rain falls so often in our lives that it has become a mild inconvenience rather than a force of nature. Every time the sky darkens and the first droplets begin to fall, we all think it's just another minor drizzle, something to wipe off the windshield of our cars as we go about our day.
There are times, however, where we miscalculate, we underestimate nature's wrath. When the light drizzle turns into a heavy downpour. When the mild breeze suddenly turns to a frightful gale. The puddles that form from this become a flood. The thunder turns from a gentle reminder to a harrowing warning. And lastly, before we have the chance to run, we are caught in the storm at the mercy of nature, wishing that we had been warned, that we had time to get to higher ground.
She takes a drink as a low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance. She sets the glass down and looks right into the camera.
You two, Reno and Chris Chaos, The Iconoclast...
You're taking the storm for a light shower. You have underestimated nature's wrath. But unlike the hundreds that are caught off guard, we will do you two a kindness by giving you two a warning of sorts.
This war that we will fight on W.W.H's premiere program known as Dystopia is about more than the past. It's about more than the legacies that our respective camps have built. You two can talk all you want about how you two think your the future of tag team wrestling here in the W.W.H. or how our image might have waned over time. But I am not flaunting my accomplishments so I can turn back the clock and relive the glory days. We are doing this as a warning to everyone in the W.W.H. locker room. We have arisen back to the top of the tag division to storm through the doors of this company and take back what we never truly lost in the first place. I say this not as an opinion but as a prediction. Our resurrection is inevitable and you two, the current best in the W.W.H.'s tag division have two choices, retreat to higher ground or get swept away by the oncoming storm of destruction.
Our battle is not about the past that we have built, it is about the futures that we will build in the years to come. And all I can hope for you two is that you two think you know exactly what you two are dealing with. Because if you two go in prepared for anything less than a raging tempest...
Well, then you best start preparing for coping with the humiliation of your defeat and loss of your precious W.W.H. World Tag Titles.
She finishes her drink as lightning breaks across the sky, quickly followed by a loud crack of thunder.
The storm of destruction is coming, Iconoclast. Are you two ready for the outcome?
Then she smiles devilishly as the scene fades to black.
|
|
Ascender
IS OFFLINE
Years Old
Female
49 POSTS & 6 LIKES
|
Post by myalilabby on Aug 20, 2021 18:23:51 GMT -5
Camera fades to what looks to be an old apartment and to Lilith Evans sitting on the floor with a bottle of vodka in her hand. Her eyes currently shut as she gives a little laugh before opening them and looking at the open bottle in her hand.
Lilith Evans
Is this what it looks like? Not really, you see I use to drink and I guess you can say at one point it took over my life. What you see now though, isn't drinking. Yes I did think about it but this is just me. You see the best way to get over an addiction in my mind is to smell it. Smell it and will yourself to not drink it. That is what I am doing currently.
Is it working? Well so far I have yet to take a sip of it so I say yes. Then again what is addiction? According to the dictionary it is this "the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity." So yes this is currently not my addiction, my current addiction is winning and not letting down The Soulless Sisters.
If you haven't guessed yet, I am in this match with Charlotte Ross. This is our addiction. Those belts are our addiction. Something we crave. Something that we want and Iconoclast, sorry to tell you this but this is one addiction that we are not going to give up. It just keeps eating at us and we had a taste of it already and guess what, that craving is back. That addiction is back.
There is 4 stages of addiction:
Stage 1: Experimentation. Very few people set out to become addicted. Stage 2: Regular Use & Abuse. Stage 3: Dependency & Tolerance. Stage 4: Addiction.
Detox, Treatment & Recovery. We have Detoxed, we have been to treatment and now we are about to recover those belts. Chris, Reno, I don't feel the need to apologize for wanting those belts. I am also not going to apologize when we win those belts from you and take back what we should have never lost. Those belts are rightfully ours and we are coming for our rightful addiction.
You boys should be used to disappointment. In fact you will be used to it when we win what we should have never lost. You have our belts and we want them back. Actually no, we are taking them back. I don't care what the hell we have to do, that will happen. We want our property back and come hell or high water that is what we are going to do.
Come to think about it boys, I think you are the ones with the addiction cause one of the problems with addiction is stealing and that is exactly what you did to us. You stole what we owned so Charlotte and I are going to cure you of that addiction by taking them back. Shame on you Chris and Gabe, for what you did but I will say this right now or addiction is more protenant. The cravings are real and those cravings are now back and our rewards will be when we recover those belts.
In the end, all will be right with the world when we hear and new Tag Team Champions, The Soulless Sisters. Only then will I drink to our victory. Till then, Salute.
Lilith holds up the bottle to Salute the camera before putting it down and giving off a laugh as the camera fades out.
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 20, 2021 21:33:07 GMT -5
“There are two types of tragedies in life. One is not getting what you want, the other is getting it.” The van door opened, and a jeaned leg and workboot stepped out. The air was warm still, with a misty breeze from the rain the night before. Chris had been quiet on the issue, focused on his match at Dystopia with the Soulless Sisters, defending the tag titles, but now he was here in Las Vegas to destroy yet another egomaniacal bitch. The hotel was nice, but it wasn’t the four seasons. Hell, even that cess pool known as San Diego had a four seasons. This was a Courtyard or some shit, but hey, at least it was new.
Chris stepped out into full view, his work boots and jeans with a TapOut shirt, tight fitting of course. His hair was down, and his Oakley shades covered his eyes. The drive from San Diego to Anaheim wasn’t bad. Normally Chris would go home to Tampa first, but when the stipulations were announced for his match with the modern day Buffy the Vampire Slayer cast of extras, he had to get here as quick as possible. This was what he had been waiting for. He had successfully done it. He had pushed them to the limit. He had become an ICON.“Mr. Jackson, your room is ready. You have booked the penthouse suit, but only for one night. Usually customers at the hotel book that room for 3 day minimum……I mean, it has the Jacuzzi tub and rotating bed and everything”. “Thanks toots, I appreciate the hospitality. Does the hotel offer transportation options to Rawson-Neal Psychiatric Hospital?""We don't, but I am sure we can figure something out for you."
"Yeah....and after I handle a little business here I have to go to the bubbling garbage pit known as Anaheim for work."“I see, and what do you do?” The front desk clerk was younger, had to be 20 something, brunette with a pretty face. Her rack wasn’t bad either.
“How about this---“ he pulls up his shades to look at her name tag--"Stephanie….if all goes to plan tomorrow night I will come back and SHOW you exactly….what…..I…..do.” He grinned and the young clerk blushed. “Hold it for an extra night, I may need to celebrate more than previously anticipated." The van was parked and his old manager and mentor Bruce Kehn walked in, carrying all Chris’s bags. The old man sure knew his place. He set the bags down on the bell boys cart, and met Chris at the front desk, putting a hand firmly on his shoulder. “You ready, Champ?!”
“Ready as I have ever been, Brucie.” The young clerk handed him his key and a piece of paper with her number on it. It was 0.
Chris liked her sense of humor. “You are a sly little vixen aren’t you?” he said, “I will definitely be dialing this number at some point……..” The two men got on the elevator and she watched them the entire way, lightly biting her lip.
+++
The front door to condo 1003 opened, and she walked out wearing an oversized tee shirt and that is about it. That is NOT what she had arrived in. Behind her, Chris walked out wearing a skintight TapOut shirt and cargo shorts. His hair was pulled back. He had a duffel bag around his shoulder. He closed the door behind the two and locked it, testing the handle to make sure. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car”. “Gentleman” Jenny said sarcastically, “I guess chivalry isn’t dead.”
God, he loved that attitude. These two were made for each other. Where was she in PW when he needed a foxy manager with a bad attitude? Then he remembered she was born in 1993. She was still in high school then. Holy hell. When they reached her car in the parking garage, Chris noticed she parked next to his. He threw his duffel in the back seat and shut the door. “Where are you off to, champ?” God he loved how that sounded. Especially from her. “I have a little business to take care of. Don’t worry about me, just make sure your sexy little ass is ready to escort me to ringside Saturday Night for my Savage Title victory.” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
He watched as her car backed out, and part of him wondered what her drivers seat now smelled like….. ... .... ..... ...... Back to reality. He had a job to do. He jumped in the Wrangler and backed out, heading out of the complex, out of LA and into towards the California borderlands. He was going to hit Interstate 15N…...He was headed to Las Vegas. +++ As he drove through the vastness of the Cali-Nevada emptiness, he thought. He rarely had time to think anymore with all of the promotional gigs, television appearances, interviews, magazines, you name it. For the next four hours it was just him, his music and the wide open road. What would he even say to her if he saw her. After what he did to her, on national television nonetheless. She was there because of him, after all. Was he that much of a monster? Absolutely.
She had been a loyal soldier to him, by his side through thick and thin, but he couldn't handle her success. He couldn't handle being in the shadows while she rose to fame. SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HIS SIDEKICK, DAMNIT.
He was booked in a tag team match but had alienated everyone around him.....Reno was gone, also thanks to him, and he had nobody left but her to ask........ He put her into the ring, put her in harms way....and gave her a taste of victory. In a weird way, that small taste of victory was worse than any beating she could have received. She knew how it felt to be successful and the pain that came with it...... He had created a monster. He gazed off into the distance, he tried to remember her face, but all he could see was Bruce..... ++The interior was the same way. Everything seemed dated, but like it hadn't been anything but cleaned since the 1960's. It had that same charm a grandparents house had. Or an old Italian family. Even the couch was hard. It was one of those old couches, with a depression where the occupant often sat but the rest felt like sitting on hardwood.
The old man had a small glass cup that he was filling, swirling the ice cubes around as they cracked under the heat of the room temperature beverage. By the smell, Chris assumed it was whiskey.
Walking over in his track suit and sitting down, bottle in hand, he offered some to Chris. He declined.
"So tell me, kid, why do you want to fight?"
The man had called him all the way out to Thonotosassa to ask him that?! They couldn't have met somewhere in Tampa?
Bruce Kehn was supposed to be the best boxing coach and "young man mentor" on the Gulf Coast. The old man took a slirping sip of his drink .
"You dragged me all the way out here to ask me that?" Chris asked.
"Yes, and be glad I did. It is not everyday I allow someone into my home. I am kind of a secluded guy, you know? I like my privacy. But I am also someone who doesn't like asking things twice. So, consider this a mulligan. Why do you want to fight?"
His voice was deadly serious. He took another swirling sip of his drink and lit a cigar that he pulled out of the vanity next to him.
"I don't know."
Mid light, he stopped. Taking the cigar out of his mouth he stared at the teenager in front of him.
"You. Don't. Know.."
Chris shrugged.
"Just want to fight, huh? Just want to tussle. You think this is all a tussle."
"I think its--"
"You don't know what the fuck it is, you just showed that."
The kid was taken aback.
"I like to fight."
"But why." Puffing his cigar.
"It makes me feel good."
"But why."
"What is this, 20 questions? I just like fighting."
"Then I am of no use to you."
The kids eyes went wide. He drove out here for this? This guy was a total dick. If he really wanted to see, he could show him why he wanted to fight.
The kid went to stand up.
"Oh, sit down. You aren't giving up on this too."
Too? What the hell did he mean?
"I am going to tell you why you want to fight."
Who the hell was this guy? Chris pondered knocking his old ass teeth out.
After a few puffs of the cigar he begn to speak in that same serious tone.
"That girl. The one with the blonde hair.....I have seen the way you look at her. I have seen the way you get worked up over her."
HER.
"I was in the mall the other day when you started that rumble.....remember.....when the guy touched her ass and you lost your mind?"
He was there? Jesus, how long had he been watching him?!
"This girl, she yelled at you after, did she not?"
Yes. She had been mad, and embarrassed, that he had started all of this because of her. She yelled at him, slapped him, but she was safe. That was all he cared about.
She called him many names. But at the end of it all, she left with Jason. So what was he really fighting for.
"You don't know anything about her old man!"
"I know enough."
Chris went to stand up again.
"I know you love her."
He sat back down.
"I know that you want to fight because you want her to notice you. You want to impress her. You want her to think you are something."
"It's not that---"
"Then what is it?"
"I...I just...."
"It is your hesitation that will get you beat. In the time it took you to make a decision, your law is broken and your lying broken on the floor. You are too indecisive. You know how you feel. Go with that."
Who was this? The human Yoda? But he was right. Damnit.
"I just want to find a way to bring all of this pain out. I want to find a way to show her that I will be the one to defend her, protect her, to make her never feel anything but happy. Every time I fight, I am thinking I am fighting to her. I am figting because of the way she makes me feel. I am fighting in hopes that one day she will come back to me and I can give her the life she truly deserves."
The man took a long drag of his cigar.
"I knew that, kid. But all that is, 15 minutes of fame."
"What?"
"People come and go, but you stay true to yourself. Stop living in the past for 15 minutes of glory in the future. Nothing lasts forever kid."
What was he saying?
"Strength is how well you hide the pain kid. Keep her on your back burner. Keep her in the picture. Let her linger, but fight for you. Fight to make something of you. Fight to be the best. Forget what someone else wants. Forget impressing someone else. Fight to be the best in the world at what you do........"
Puff. Puff.
"Because you have the potential. I have never seen someone with right and left combinations like you have. Why do you think I bailed you out and talked to the judges. I agreed to mentor you because I see a rising star in you."
Chris was too overwhelmed to smile.
"Fight to be the best there is because if you fight for revenge, if you fight to get back at someone, you will have nothing left when you do. Fight to make sure that those you put down can't get back up, and if they do, put them down again. If anyone wants a shot at you, show them why they shouldn't. Show them why no matter how twisted they can be, nobody can be more fucked up than you. The time will come kid when you have to make a decision on her, and the time will come to let her go. Be the best, and don't let anyone keep you down."
Little did Chris know that these would be words he would keep with him over the next 12 years. As he stood in the hospital bed, and finally pulled the plug on the "love of his life", he thought of Bruce's words.
Little did he know that he would be the one to kill his 15 minutes of fame......only to bury someone else's. ++ His reality came screaming back to him when he pulled into the parking lot of the asylum. He put his head on the wheel. He loved her, and he hurt her. Sometimes, you have to hurt to truly show your love. But whats love? Fuck love. He needed her. Frankenstein had become the monster. TO BE CONINUED"So I am supposed to be humble, right? That's what they always say. Hustle hard, stay humble. I say fuck that. Neither myself or Gabe know what humble means. We don't have a humble bone in our bodies. We are ICONOCLAST. We are the WWH World Tag Team Champions. We are the best thing since sliced bread. We both come into this place with the resume of a fortune 500 CEO. We came in to fix this place, to turn it around, the clean up the inconsistencies and the flaws. We came in to bring a little stability. A little dominance. We came in to turn this place on its ear, to usher in a new era. We came here to show the wrestling world what success truly looks like.
They say I have a god complex. Pssht. Let me tell you something. I am GOD. When I step into that ring, I am the closest thing to God that the wrestling world is ever going to see. I am the best in the world at what I do. And what do I do? I crush spirits. I steal hope. I totally and utterly eviscerate. Gabe and I together?
Just call us the perfect storm.
We came in to this place months ago, before the hiatus, and we took the Tag Team Champions--two computer nerds in skeleton Halloween costumes--and we put them on the shelf. A lot of people thought we couldn't do it, wouldn't do it. But we have always been ones to break boundaries, to push limits, to do the impossible.
Who did the Skellie boys take those belts from? The Self-Righteous Cunts who also think they live in a horror movie. They think that dressing and acting "spooky" with the obnoxious face makeup and black clothing makes them anything other than the weird goth kids that we used to throw things at and give swirlies too in the bathroom. They aren't intimidating. They aren't tough. They feel like because they ruled the roost back in a time when this roster was mediocre at best that they are still supposed to be taken seriously in the ICONIC era.
I have a better chance taking Forrest Gump getting a blow job from Jennay will trying to break a skee-ball world record as Lieutenant Dan films from a tripod than any of these bitches. I think they are in way over their heads, and they are going to learn that the hard way on Dystopia. It's Tornado Tag rules but the only tornado they are in for is standing across the ring from them.
Spear after spear after spear. I have no problem breaking any of you in half, putting you back together, and splitting you in half again.
I don't believe you fully comprehend the evil you are standing in the ring with. WWH's premiere program? Sure, so be it. But we are WWH's premiere tag team as well, and lets face facts here, you just don't cut the mustard anymore.
Facts over feelings, you no longer have the brass to complete at an elite level.
We fight hard but we party harder. This week, we will be having yet another party and this time it will be at your expense.
Thank you in advance.
Have an ICONIC day."
|
|