Post by hatebreeder on Aug 19, 2008 20:50:38 GMT -6
(Scene opens to a pretty skanky looking 1982 Camero pulling up to an old abandoned building. The sides of the building are crumbling with age; they have lived the long life watching the great depression and a couple world wars. From inside the car a disgruntled passenger throws a map on the seat next to his. He opens the door and steps out into the cold blustery night, a cold wind whips and you sense some great change.)
(The man is large in size and wears a long black trench coat. His leather boots make a clomping sound as they strike the crumbling cement. Above the main entrance to the building you see a crumbled dilapidated sign that says “Gib’s Gym”)
(The man rustles in his pocket and grabs a set of keys. He fiddles with them and then places one into the door. With a not so easy turn the door opens and he steps inside, turning on the light. You see standing there Xander, one of the newest wrestlers of nCw.)
(he speaks to himself, in a voice devoid of emotion)
What the hell is this old man?
(He goes over to what used to be a counter, but has been smashed and sees a letter. He slowly tears the letter open and begins to read…)
Xander,
I know this isn’t the state of the art facility that you wanted to train in for your very first pay-per-view appearance, but hey if you don’t like it you can get on your knees and blow me. This is my first business, one that went down during one of my amazing matched with alcoholism. This is where I learned everything, trained hard and became the complete and total ass-kicking machine that I am today, but I see here that I digress…
You have to realize that you are playing kiddy football here boy. These guys are the real deal and they will destroy you if you aren’t ready. These implements may be primitive, but they work, they may not have digital temperature readers and expensive doohickeys on them, but they will make you strong, fit and ready.
I still think you should have started in the indy’s because you lack experience that your opponents do, but if you are like your old man you are a resilient son of a bitch and you will figure out a way to get the job done each and every time you step into the ring. Not all the wrestlers here are scrubs like Hexx and Mimic. You will likely not have another challenge so easy so prepare well, or I will come out of retirement and whip your ass like I should of when you were a child.
Listen, this gym is the only one I didn’t sell when I was down and out, so treat her well. There is a magic here and you can harness it. Haha, great words of wisdom huh? Your old man has some intelligence left, so train hard and get the job done…
I am proud of you…
Gib “The 80’s Icon”
Ps. Go **** yourself!
(Xander chuckles as the last line and crumbles the letter throwing it on the floor)
Magic, what the hell is he talking about, I have a weight bench, free weights a treadmill and a punching bag, what is this stuff good for.
(he glances around seeing a veryfine juice machine)
Sweet… That juice is delicious…
(When he walks over to the machine he sees a sign taped up that says “Out of order”)
God Dammit….
(he must remember what his father said about taking care of the place because a few moments after he threw that paper, he walks behind the counter to pick it up, on the wall he sees a picture of a beautiful woman, in front of the picture you read the caption “In Memory of Sophia Famularo.” Xander places his hand on the picture and then speaks softly)
You were taken too soon, mother… But you wouldn’t want me to get all emotional would you?
(he lowers his head briefly and then looks over where he sees a TV set up to a VCR, a pile of tapes teeters unbalanced on the table, he sees a handwritten note that looks as if it was written by a child)
Xander,
Don’t ever forget that you are a faggot, and also, I took the liberty of getting these tapes of Fate, I hope they help…
In Fatherhood (you douchebag),
Gib
That guy doesn’t give up does he?
(Scene fades as he places a tape into the machine)
(Scene reopens, Xander sits, the static fuzz overtaking the VCR, leaving the room in an eerie constantly evolving glow)
I see Fate, that in your previous musings you have had the wherewithal to speak about the Moirae with some degree of intelligence, I must admit in this world of intellectual drabble I am amused. However, you must realize, that although you feel that the fates, the spinner, the allotter and the inexorable are on your side with your very name, you must realize that they share the same common emotions that I have, they share the indelible need for cold, lack of emotion and unfeeling, they are not moved by the simplistic emotional worthlessness that humans are known for feeling. They do their job and that is such.
(He smiles rubbing his hands together)
Just like me. And this week on the pay per view, my very first pay per view I am going to do my job, and I will do it with a certain and inexplicable coldness, a lack of emotion and without a sense of feeling. When I grew up, watching my father wrestle I saw him draw the emotions from the crowd and utilize them to make him more powerful, more exciting. However, with this amazing increase in emotion, he also suffered the anterior threat, the binary opposition. When the crowd was down, so was he. That is something that I will never have to worry about because the crowd doesn’t affect me, I am, like your namesake cold, emotionless and unfeeling.
(He raises his head, his coal black eyes shimmering in the glow of the television)
Now, as we sit, both preparing for a match that will quite possibly catapult us into the higher standings of this federation I think of other Greek myths, I think of Nyx and Erebus. I think of Zeus, his affairs and the muses. I think about Heracules, Perseus and Bellerphon the great heroes. Then I laugh. I laugh so deeply and so wholeheartedly that the woman in the next apartment can’t help but call the landlord complaining about noise violations. See, Fate what are these people, who are they? They are stories. They are useless pieces of fiction, they are at the end of the day nothing more then mere and miniscule stories to explain the way things are, to scare children so that they pull the covers up to their chins and behave the next day. They, like your name, like your thought on fate are nothing more then fictional stories of uselessness. There is no fate; no one has a life that is predetermined. This weekend when we step into the ring you can talk about how it is your fate to defeat me, but please hold those mindless thoughts to yourself, because there is no fate. Destiny and future holdings are completely determined by the work that you put into something. It is not your destiny to step foreword and defeat me, it is not your fate. If you beat me it is for one reason, because you wanted it more, because you trained harder and because you are more experienced.
The sense that every struggle brings defeat
Because Fate holds no prize to crown success;
That all the oracles are dumb or cheat
Because they have no secret to express;
That none can pierce the vast black veil uncertain
Because there is no light beyond the curtain;
That all is vanity and nothingness.
You quote Dante and for that I am impressed, but once James Thompson wrote those preceding lines, because he knows that fate doesn’t crown success. He sees those that believe they can predict the future or believe that they are somehow immune to the reality of life because fate doesn’t truly exist. There are no secrets to this world, there are no ghosts or seers or angels that cause a sort of great afterlife. These things cannot be proven and the only people that can tell us the secrets of fate and the rest are quite frankly, dead and buried.
(a brief chuckle and then silence before he resumes, continuing with no emotion in his voice)
Fate, I look forward to meeting a great competitor such as you. I find that you are a worthy adversary both in your knowledge and understanding this business. I won’t lie, I have a mere three matches under my belt as a professional wrestler and here I have but one. If I came out and said things like the other wrestlers here, about how I am going to cleave your skull to it’s teeth I would be an outward liar and a hypocrite because such childish words don’t exist in my idea of this world. Although I disagree with your general thoughts on life, I must admit that I find your beliefs and thoughts interesting and I look forward to testing myself against someone that was trained by the mighty Dark Prophet, regardless of how many personalities my combatant has, I will test myself against the Grim Reaper, against Jaques, against Angelo Della Muerte and I believe that I will prevail, because I don’t feel, because of the coldness, the lack of emotion I feel when I am working someone over, trying to hurt them for no other reason then I get some sort of satisfaction out of it…
In pace requiescat
Understand I don’t mean this in a way that states I wish to kill you, I want you to rest well and prepare heartily for this match, because when you face me I think you will be surprised at what someone with my limited experience is able to do in the ring. I will be ready, and I hope that you are as well.
(He nods his head and the camera fades)
(The man is large in size and wears a long black trench coat. His leather boots make a clomping sound as they strike the crumbling cement. Above the main entrance to the building you see a crumbled dilapidated sign that says “Gib’s Gym”)
(The man rustles in his pocket and grabs a set of keys. He fiddles with them and then places one into the door. With a not so easy turn the door opens and he steps inside, turning on the light. You see standing there Xander, one of the newest wrestlers of nCw.)
(he speaks to himself, in a voice devoid of emotion)
What the hell is this old man?
(He goes over to what used to be a counter, but has been smashed and sees a letter. He slowly tears the letter open and begins to read…)
Xander,
I know this isn’t the state of the art facility that you wanted to train in for your very first pay-per-view appearance, but hey if you don’t like it you can get on your knees and blow me. This is my first business, one that went down during one of my amazing matched with alcoholism. This is where I learned everything, trained hard and became the complete and total ass-kicking machine that I am today, but I see here that I digress…
You have to realize that you are playing kiddy football here boy. These guys are the real deal and they will destroy you if you aren’t ready. These implements may be primitive, but they work, they may not have digital temperature readers and expensive doohickeys on them, but they will make you strong, fit and ready.
I still think you should have started in the indy’s because you lack experience that your opponents do, but if you are like your old man you are a resilient son of a bitch and you will figure out a way to get the job done each and every time you step into the ring. Not all the wrestlers here are scrubs like Hexx and Mimic. You will likely not have another challenge so easy so prepare well, or I will come out of retirement and whip your ass like I should of when you were a child.
Listen, this gym is the only one I didn’t sell when I was down and out, so treat her well. There is a magic here and you can harness it. Haha, great words of wisdom huh? Your old man has some intelligence left, so train hard and get the job done…
I am proud of you…
Gib “The 80’s Icon”
Ps. Go **** yourself!
(Xander chuckles as the last line and crumbles the letter throwing it on the floor)
Magic, what the hell is he talking about, I have a weight bench, free weights a treadmill and a punching bag, what is this stuff good for.
(he glances around seeing a veryfine juice machine)
Sweet… That juice is delicious…
(When he walks over to the machine he sees a sign taped up that says “Out of order”)
God Dammit….
(he must remember what his father said about taking care of the place because a few moments after he threw that paper, he walks behind the counter to pick it up, on the wall he sees a picture of a beautiful woman, in front of the picture you read the caption “In Memory of Sophia Famularo.” Xander places his hand on the picture and then speaks softly)
You were taken too soon, mother… But you wouldn’t want me to get all emotional would you?
(he lowers his head briefly and then looks over where he sees a TV set up to a VCR, a pile of tapes teeters unbalanced on the table, he sees a handwritten note that looks as if it was written by a child)
Xander,
Don’t ever forget that you are a faggot, and also, I took the liberty of getting these tapes of Fate, I hope they help…
In Fatherhood (you douchebag),
Gib
That guy doesn’t give up does he?
(Scene fades as he places a tape into the machine)
(Scene reopens, Xander sits, the static fuzz overtaking the VCR, leaving the room in an eerie constantly evolving glow)
I see Fate, that in your previous musings you have had the wherewithal to speak about the Moirae with some degree of intelligence, I must admit in this world of intellectual drabble I am amused. However, you must realize, that although you feel that the fates, the spinner, the allotter and the inexorable are on your side with your very name, you must realize that they share the same common emotions that I have, they share the indelible need for cold, lack of emotion and unfeeling, they are not moved by the simplistic emotional worthlessness that humans are known for feeling. They do their job and that is such.
(He smiles rubbing his hands together)
Just like me. And this week on the pay per view, my very first pay per view I am going to do my job, and I will do it with a certain and inexplicable coldness, a lack of emotion and without a sense of feeling. When I grew up, watching my father wrestle I saw him draw the emotions from the crowd and utilize them to make him more powerful, more exciting. However, with this amazing increase in emotion, he also suffered the anterior threat, the binary opposition. When the crowd was down, so was he. That is something that I will never have to worry about because the crowd doesn’t affect me, I am, like your namesake cold, emotionless and unfeeling.
(He raises his head, his coal black eyes shimmering in the glow of the television)
Now, as we sit, both preparing for a match that will quite possibly catapult us into the higher standings of this federation I think of other Greek myths, I think of Nyx and Erebus. I think of Zeus, his affairs and the muses. I think about Heracules, Perseus and Bellerphon the great heroes. Then I laugh. I laugh so deeply and so wholeheartedly that the woman in the next apartment can’t help but call the landlord complaining about noise violations. See, Fate what are these people, who are they? They are stories. They are useless pieces of fiction, they are at the end of the day nothing more then mere and miniscule stories to explain the way things are, to scare children so that they pull the covers up to their chins and behave the next day. They, like your name, like your thought on fate are nothing more then fictional stories of uselessness. There is no fate; no one has a life that is predetermined. This weekend when we step into the ring you can talk about how it is your fate to defeat me, but please hold those mindless thoughts to yourself, because there is no fate. Destiny and future holdings are completely determined by the work that you put into something. It is not your destiny to step foreword and defeat me, it is not your fate. If you beat me it is for one reason, because you wanted it more, because you trained harder and because you are more experienced.
The sense that every struggle brings defeat
Because Fate holds no prize to crown success;
That all the oracles are dumb or cheat
Because they have no secret to express;
That none can pierce the vast black veil uncertain
Because there is no light beyond the curtain;
That all is vanity and nothingness.
You quote Dante and for that I am impressed, but once James Thompson wrote those preceding lines, because he knows that fate doesn’t crown success. He sees those that believe they can predict the future or believe that they are somehow immune to the reality of life because fate doesn’t truly exist. There are no secrets to this world, there are no ghosts or seers or angels that cause a sort of great afterlife. These things cannot be proven and the only people that can tell us the secrets of fate and the rest are quite frankly, dead and buried.
(a brief chuckle and then silence before he resumes, continuing with no emotion in his voice)
Fate, I look forward to meeting a great competitor such as you. I find that you are a worthy adversary both in your knowledge and understanding this business. I won’t lie, I have a mere three matches under my belt as a professional wrestler and here I have but one. If I came out and said things like the other wrestlers here, about how I am going to cleave your skull to it’s teeth I would be an outward liar and a hypocrite because such childish words don’t exist in my idea of this world. Although I disagree with your general thoughts on life, I must admit that I find your beliefs and thoughts interesting and I look forward to testing myself against someone that was trained by the mighty Dark Prophet, regardless of how many personalities my combatant has, I will test myself against the Grim Reaper, against Jaques, against Angelo Della Muerte and I believe that I will prevail, because I don’t feel, because of the coldness, the lack of emotion I feel when I am working someone over, trying to hurt them for no other reason then I get some sort of satisfaction out of it…
In pace requiescat
Understand I don’t mean this in a way that states I wish to kill you, I want you to rest well and prepare heartily for this match, because when you face me I think you will be surprised at what someone with my limited experience is able to do in the ring. I will be ready, and I hope that you are as well.
(He nods his head and the camera fades)