Post by Stevie Starr on Nov 15, 2013 15:18:41 GMT
Black screen, a few seconds of dead silence, then suddenly a voice is heard.
"Fame, fortune, power, glory. These are things men in this business strive for. These are things we hope to gain as wrestlers. These are the things we've always dreamed of."
Just then the scene opens, a man well dressed man stands in a dusty old warehouse, inside an old beatdown ring. Pacing inside the ring, the man looks around, and on the walls are pictures of all the wrestlers who have passed through that warehouse. Championship belts, and trophies are displayed in a case on the far end of the wall.
"In this life, there are winners, and there are losers. And lucky for me, I was a winner, hell everyone who passed through this warehouse was a winner. You see, not only did we train here, broke our bones, left blood, sweat, tears, and broken pride sometimes in this ring. When we walked through those doors we were already winners, we were the ones who were born that way, and what they did here...they took winners and made them gods in this business. I'm the last of these gods, the final man to be made into a god, and future champion."
Climbing out of the ring, the man walks over to the wall and looks at the pictures and wrestling fliers that are hung up.
I'm a lot like these men, these men lived to have their name on the marquee. These men live to have gold around their waist. These men would not settle for anything but the best. And I will not settle for anything less. If you settle for anything less, then you have no business being in this profession. I've looked at the IWF roster, and I must say, very few winners, but a hell of a lot of losers."
Taking a cigarette from his jacket pocket, the man lights it up. Taking a nice long drag, the man walks over to the belt case, staring down the belts, and trophies that lay inside.
"One day my championship will grace this trophy case. I will be part of the immortal, the elite, the best of the best. Until then I will break every man's pride, I will shatter their dreams, I will make them loose all hope. I will take any love they have for this profession, chew it up and spit it back in their face. I'm here to break people, I'm here to make people beg for mercy, I'm here to be that guy, that when they are backstage and they see the match card for the night, they see their name next to mine, that they fear for their life..."
Dropping his cigarette on the ground, the man slowly steps on it. Just then the black screen reappears...
"This message has been approved by Stevie Starr."
"Fame, fortune, power, glory. These are things men in this business strive for. These are things we hope to gain as wrestlers. These are the things we've always dreamed of."
Just then the scene opens, a man well dressed man stands in a dusty old warehouse, inside an old beatdown ring. Pacing inside the ring, the man looks around, and on the walls are pictures of all the wrestlers who have passed through that warehouse. Championship belts, and trophies are displayed in a case on the far end of the wall.
"In this life, there are winners, and there are losers. And lucky for me, I was a winner, hell everyone who passed through this warehouse was a winner. You see, not only did we train here, broke our bones, left blood, sweat, tears, and broken pride sometimes in this ring. When we walked through those doors we were already winners, we were the ones who were born that way, and what they did here...they took winners and made them gods in this business. I'm the last of these gods, the final man to be made into a god, and future champion."
Climbing out of the ring, the man walks over to the wall and looks at the pictures and wrestling fliers that are hung up.
I'm a lot like these men, these men lived to have their name on the marquee. These men live to have gold around their waist. These men would not settle for anything but the best. And I will not settle for anything less. If you settle for anything less, then you have no business being in this profession. I've looked at the IWF roster, and I must say, very few winners, but a hell of a lot of losers."
Taking a cigarette from his jacket pocket, the man lights it up. Taking a nice long drag, the man walks over to the belt case, staring down the belts, and trophies that lay inside.
"One day my championship will grace this trophy case. I will be part of the immortal, the elite, the best of the best. Until then I will break every man's pride, I will shatter their dreams, I will make them loose all hope. I will take any love they have for this profession, chew it up and spit it back in their face. I'm here to break people, I'm here to make people beg for mercy, I'm here to be that guy, that when they are backstage and they see the match card for the night, they see their name next to mine, that they fear for their life..."
Dropping his cigarette on the ground, the man slowly steps on it. Just then the black screen reappears...
"This message has been approved by Stevie Starr."