Post by Ricky Johnson on Jun 13, 2008 23:57:18 GMT -6
"You didn't hurt me. Nothing can hurt me."
-Nine Inch Nails (Ruiner)
-Nine Inch Nails (Ruiner)
[Black. As always, this void of darkness provides a canvas for an introduction. Twining, thin strands of gold flicker as they are illuminated by some self-provided illumination. They twist, undulate as if they had lives of their own. These few lengths appear to have been produced via Rumplestiltzkin's tortured princess... their perfection shows no outward sign of imperfection.
It's then that the thunderous drums of Disturbed's "Down with the Sickness" begins.
As if that gentle wind has suddenly become enraged, the twisting cords of gold whip about haphazardly. They blow against this black background and slowly begin to take a shape... an ankh. The familiarity of those strands is suddenly made clear: hair. They're loose hairs.
That black glosses over suddenly. With its newfound sheen, it too reflects this light that seems to come from off camera. These bits of yellow thicken...they lose their depth and become more and more of a logo as time goes by. Zoom out - the back of a black clad, blonde figure. This person, by stance and by build, is obviously male. The mane of limp gold hangs down the back, though a few wayward strands have come free and plaster themselves over the back of this black leather jacket. They, too, form distorted shapes. A pair of dark blue jeans and what can be assumed to be combat boots by the design of the heel and the tread cover his lower body.
The background is still unchanged; there is apparantly nothing beyond this man.
His voice carries an echo with it. The rich baritone is nearly unmistakable - Ricky Johnson's voice always manages to call forth the crowd's recognition. Just as Disturbed's singer begins, the camera swivels around. Ricky's "Anti-hero Superstar" jersey is clearly displayed beneath the jacket.]
Ricky: The human mind is malleable.
[And in that instant, the void that has served as a backdrop is suddenly forced to expand outwards and violently contract inwards. We're left with a swirling green spiral framing Ricky Johnson's form. He shows no outward sign of being affected by this change.]
Ricky Johnson: With the correct amount of force and pressure, the psyche caves in and conforms to whatever is being pressed so visciously against it. Some look at me and claim I have done things so horrible that their children - family, friends and loved ones - are forever scarred. A night under my "control" is enough to require a month of "deprogramming." I do not enslave the minds of the vulnerable to my cause. I preach to those who will listen to me. Look to Roxi; the vision of carnal activity that she has become is the result of following my career, listening to every word I've spoken on live television. I speak of diversity and freedom. I call to all those who are too meek and too insecure to thrive on their own. I offer a chance to live a fantasy. Every soul who listens to my word as law realizes that they keep one foot in their world and one in mine. While they must face each day with hidden strength, they thrive upon the hours - mere hours - each night when they are able to be the hero, the villain or the vagabond that meanders back and forth between right and wrong. I am their Morpheus; to them, I play Sandman and sow their dreams and desires in the hopes that they will grow to maturity. Each friend must break through the frozen soil before raising himself to the sun's rays... or perhaps the moon's light. To live a dream, friends and foes, is all I have ever sought to do. I have been a challenger and I have been a champion. I have been a warrior, a scholar and a lover. I have been father, son and brother. I am loved and hated whilst I tread the line that separates those two most extreme of emotions. True to form, the amorphous nature of a dream is what keeps people enamoured with my mystique and angered at my antics. I have given and I have taken away. I have played God with the lives of men and women. A mere wrestler, mortal by all rights and surely no more powerful than any other athlete is a man who has control of doctors, lawyers and business men? What can he offer? The very concept provokes thought that most quickly dismiss as charisma. What can I offer? Rapture! I give them newfound self esteem and self respect! I make them stronger and bring their untapped potential to their attention! As such, they worship my genius...
[The spiral implodes, causing a distant screaming sound to fill the air. The length and intensity allows it to ring off each captivated ear with the sound of vocal cords slowly losing their stability. The blackness is now replaced with a white background... but a burst of light seems to distract all attention. Ricky Johnson hasn't moved... but his surroundings have changed. A table has materialized in front of him. The face of this piece of furnature resembles that of a chessboard.
Though this imagry has been used before, it only seems appropriate that Ricky Johnson is the next to dabble in it.
Pieces adorn this board... each one shaped like a separate superstar. Some have been removed from the playing field and have been set aside. On the white side, pieces small enough to be pawns shaped like Joe Everyman, Mr. Showtime and AJ Phoenix have been removed. A knight, who looks like Brad Kane, is set aside as well.
The bishop piece closely resembles Lance Ryan. The rook is Steve Awesome. They've all been removed. Now, a handful of wrestlers remain... including the king piece - Jackhammer.
The black side is missing several pawns, as well. Spike Kane and Diamonds Inc begin the list. The knights - Angel and Xavier Williams - also sit aside, sacrificed to remove other key pieces. The rook - Trent Helms - is laid on its side next to its fellow piece, Reckoning.
The queen piece, Roxi, is seen beside Ricky Johnson's black king piece. The black bishops are John Anthony and Davey Ortega. All four still reside on the board. Three pawns, resembling the trio of Mari, Josh and Devon are in position to protect these pieces... though the pawn shaped like Mark Evil is about to fall, as the one resembling Falcon already has.
Ricky makes a sweping gesture with one hand to the board. Pushed by some phantasmal energy, The Phillip Burn's piece is toppled... and Ricky Johnson remains stoic. His face shows neither pride nor amusement. All in all, he appears as morbid as audiences have gotten accustomed to seeing him.
Ricky Johnson steps forward, placing his hands on the far end of the chess board. He leans down, peering over the replica pieces... his hair falls to obscure his face behind a veil of golden tresses.]
Ricky Johnson: I am a tactician. I've had to be, due to my less than impressive size. I've had to train harder to accomplish my own dream and become another man's nightmare. They praise me for my mental might and my nearly flawless insight. I have, on numerous occasions, brought the panicked look to Jack Hammer's eyes. I have taken steps to ensure Dark Prophet’s crest fallen attitude. It pleases me to see that every ounce of effort I put into psychological warfare has managed to drive my opponents further and further away from stability. It makes me proud to know that I am, in fact, superior to them in virtually every important way. It makes them seem less and less like the champions they strives to be and more like the bumbling buffoons that I have often described them as.
[The chess piece resembling Anthony slides forward then, only to be taken by Hammer’s king piece. This opens up new opportunities for the advancement of the game, as a good majority of chess fans can see. Ricky Johnson's tone becomes harsher, as if something bothers him...]
Ricky Johnson: Every day, I move closer and closer to the inevitable checkmate. Every passing moment that these two men compete with me, they expose themselves to new levels, new depths to which sadism can plunge. Jackammer's antics leave me smiling; for every man who speaks ill of my preaching and my stylistic teachings, there is another who tells tales of Jackammer's own brand of corruption. This man is supposed to be a champion, correct? The most important piece on the board is often the one with the fewest options. Bad moves are made more often than not. Ill advised decisions take precedence over planning and strategy. Look at Jackammer's corruption of your youth and then look to how I direct those who believe in me. It truly is entertaing to know that those who battle monsters, as a great philosopher once said, must take care lest they become monsters themselves. Jackammer's outrageous antics may appear appealing, but in reality people cheer him for actions that would leave most parents concerned. I am not one to speak for the value of family, as mine is not my own. My family belongs to the people of the world - my family is often integrated with yours. I am a part of you all, a necessary facet for your lives jusr as you are to mine. In my case, the general public is what fuels me; if driven far enough, even the most even tempered man can be brought to seek woe upon his enemies. This sunday, Jackammer will see what I can do once more. On that night, he will see what others have and he will find out the truth; I am more than what the people can witness with orbs of varied colors. I am the hero of the shadows. I am the man who wades into the sea of humanity that the general public calls humanity and returns each night with one of them under my wing. I am Ricky Johnson, named for the blackness of the human soul and the darkness buried deep in all of you.
[Another wave of white light, and now the scene has changed again. Ricky Johnson now rests casually upon a golden throne similar to the one we've seen him rise up on through the flames night in and night out... he drapes his legs over the seat's arm and folds his hands onto his stomach. He now looks off into the white background, giving us a profile shot.]
Ricky Johnson: Using John Anthony, I have lured Jackammer into what seems to be a lose-lose scenario. Anthony is a tool for my decisive use; when and if I choose to use his skills is entirely too easy to decide; his presence in my tag title matchup is simple; if he destroys the man I've grown to loathe, then he gets the thing he wants . with no further ministrations from me, directly. Dark Prophet really has little choice in this matter! His wife and his life or championship gold... this should test both morales and mettle in one killing stroke. One way or another, John Anthony leave Picture Perfect a better man.
[Ricky Johnson smiles slightly as a far away look enters those ice blue eyes of his.]
Ricky Johnson: People are paying for the chance to watch Gods battle monsters. In a cataclismic war, they will bear witness to all that I have wrought upon the lives of two men. One of whom is broken... the other bent on the idea that he will be the winner. Jackammer knows me... he knows what I will do to win that title. He understands that even though I am all too eager to hurt him, I'm just as likely to dismember my ally to take home that title belt. My goals are clear. My course is set and my finest hour at hand. I am Ricky Johnson... I am the embodiment of the words "champion." I have no doubts over my chances of success; they are fair enough to wager upon yet leave little margin for error. Dark Prophet... Jackammer... question yourselves and your worth! Doubt yourselves! As always, I will have but one question for you when all is said and done...
IS IT PAINFULLY CLEAR YET?
[Once again, the background fades to black... and then, Ricky Johnson's own likeness follows suit.]