PaulNJ21
I shunned a voodoo witch, decapitated a black cat
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Jun-09-03 AT 11:29 AM (EST)]The deadline for angles and RP is Friday, June 13. Send all angles to PaulNJ21@aol.com
Rage in the Cage: Manson/Felix Red vs. Eian/Michaels
- Thread starter PaulNJ21
- Start date
Showtime24
League Member
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Jun-09-03 AT 11:30 AM (EST) by PaulNJ21 (moderator)](FADEIN to the Philadelphia loft of Scotty Michaels. We see Scotty walking out of the bathroom, holding his midsection... visibly beaten from the match at Cherry Blossom Chaos. Michaels heads to the kitchen, and begins to prepare a salad for himself...)
SCOTTY MICHAELS: "Well, it didn't happen again. Manson decided he had to resort to tactics like tying me to a ladder, just so I wouldn't be able to win the match. What a cheap punk... I mean, I went about this thing fairly, and where it'd get me? Nowhere... just like every other damn time. All I've got to say is, at least I didn't leave Cherry Blossom Chaos with a bad wheel, like you, Manson..."
(Michaels pauses, and laughs, with a sh*t-eating grin on his face...)
"That's right, Manson. I guess you finally realized that as crazy as you are, is as dirty as I am. The fans wanted me back in this federation, and then what did they do? They turned on me. They sent me all of these crazy e-mails about what they want me to do, and I did them. I catered to them. The same fans who cheer on Mike Manson, a man who gets cheered because he does some of the sickest sh*t I've ever seen anyone do in my life. Do I respect him for it? Not really. Do I admire him, and want to emulate his actions? I don't need to."
"I've got my own tricks up my sleeve, and they're just starting to become apparent now. Come on, idiots. Did you really think that I'd stick to being some worthless assh*le during my time here in the WFW? That's not how I won all of my championships. I did it, by lying and cheating... and soon enough, it's going to happen all over again."
"All that whining about climbing the ladder of success, and doing it for all of these fans.. whatever, I only do things for myself, and that's how it needs to be. Mr North America, Johnny Starr... whoever the hell the guy is, he can come out here and go for all the cheap pops he needs, with the red, white, and the blue. Wow, damn... maybe I should try something like that. Maybe I can walk out here with 'The American Idol' Ruben Studdard, and people will cheer... because I'm standing next to a 400 pound man who sings like a midget on steroids."
"Fact of the matter is, you're not going to get anywhere being the VIEWER'S CHOICE. The WFW thought it'd be the greatest gimmick, for me to come out here and do anything and everything I was told to do. Pull the strings, why don't you... the higher-ups in this league were the puppetmasters, and I was the puppet. But through it all, go to the owners. Ask them about the ratings... whose segments scored the highest? Was it Mike Manson, no. Doc Silver, no. Luster... well, no. It was ME. Why? Because I'm not so hard to believe. I'm not doing some of the most cracked-out vignettes I've ever seen, like Rat Fink and Mike Manson do. I'm not pledging allegiance, like Johnny Starr. And through this whole Viewer's Choice idea, the real Scotty Michaels was still able to rise to the forefront and shine."
"At Rage in the Cage, it's myself and Andre Eian against Starr and Manson. Let me just say, Eian, I didn't ask for your help, I didn't ask for Silver's help... but it was well-appreciated. If it wasn't for you guys, I might very well be walking around with that ladder like Al Snow walked around with a mannequin's head. I think the two of us together can put those two in their place. But you, my friend, are now the number one contender to Manson's belt... and I wish you luck in that conquest, matter of fact... hope you win. Because it'd be an honor to take that belt from a great competitor like yourself. Rage in the Cage, Manson... I'm going to finish the job that I started when I went after your leg. I am going to end your career."
(FADEOUT..)
SCOTTY MICHAELS: "Well, it didn't happen again. Manson decided he had to resort to tactics like tying me to a ladder, just so I wouldn't be able to win the match. What a cheap punk... I mean, I went about this thing fairly, and where it'd get me? Nowhere... just like every other damn time. All I've got to say is, at least I didn't leave Cherry Blossom Chaos with a bad wheel, like you, Manson..."
(Michaels pauses, and laughs, with a sh*t-eating grin on his face...)
"That's right, Manson. I guess you finally realized that as crazy as you are, is as dirty as I am. The fans wanted me back in this federation, and then what did they do? They turned on me. They sent me all of these crazy e-mails about what they want me to do, and I did them. I catered to them. The same fans who cheer on Mike Manson, a man who gets cheered because he does some of the sickest sh*t I've ever seen anyone do in my life. Do I respect him for it? Not really. Do I admire him, and want to emulate his actions? I don't need to."
"I've got my own tricks up my sleeve, and they're just starting to become apparent now. Come on, idiots. Did you really think that I'd stick to being some worthless assh*le during my time here in the WFW? That's not how I won all of my championships. I did it, by lying and cheating... and soon enough, it's going to happen all over again."
"All that whining about climbing the ladder of success, and doing it for all of these fans.. whatever, I only do things for myself, and that's how it needs to be. Mr North America, Johnny Starr... whoever the hell the guy is, he can come out here and go for all the cheap pops he needs, with the red, white, and the blue. Wow, damn... maybe I should try something like that. Maybe I can walk out here with 'The American Idol' Ruben Studdard, and people will cheer... because I'm standing next to a 400 pound man who sings like a midget on steroids."
"Fact of the matter is, you're not going to get anywhere being the VIEWER'S CHOICE. The WFW thought it'd be the greatest gimmick, for me to come out here and do anything and everything I was told to do. Pull the strings, why don't you... the higher-ups in this league were the puppetmasters, and I was the puppet. But through it all, go to the owners. Ask them about the ratings... whose segments scored the highest? Was it Mike Manson, no. Doc Silver, no. Luster... well, no. It was ME. Why? Because I'm not so hard to believe. I'm not doing some of the most cracked-out vignettes I've ever seen, like Rat Fink and Mike Manson do. I'm not pledging allegiance, like Johnny Starr. And through this whole Viewer's Choice idea, the real Scotty Michaels was still able to rise to the forefront and shine."
"At Rage in the Cage, it's myself and Andre Eian against Starr and Manson. Let me just say, Eian, I didn't ask for your help, I didn't ask for Silver's help... but it was well-appreciated. If it wasn't for you guys, I might very well be walking around with that ladder like Al Snow walked around with a mannequin's head. I think the two of us together can put those two in their place. But you, my friend, are now the number one contender to Manson's belt... and I wish you luck in that conquest, matter of fact... hope you win. Because it'd be an honor to take that belt from a great competitor like yourself. Rage in the Cage, Manson... I'm going to finish the job that I started when I went after your leg. I am going to end your career."
(FADEOUT..)
Manson
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 382
- Points
- 0
Failures
((FADEIN: Michael Manson in black shirt and jeans, with the leg cut for his injured leg to be bandaged. The NA title lies next to him with it's design of a virtual pentagram with some of the lines missing at the center and a doubled edged M taking their place.))
MANSON: I did leave the ppv with an injured leg, Michaels, you're perceptive as ever. Of course I also left with the title while you left with completely nothing.
I will concede that I might have failed in my ideal quest to win the title from Silver....even now some guy with the name Psycho is walking arond with that title...making it all seem such a waste. But then again, I have my own title and it isn't likely that you'll see Rat Fink around anymore.
But you, Michaels, now have the distinction of failing twice in a single match. First, you try to injure my leg, something I won't moralize about. After all, I've done the same thing, only better. It was a good idea, just lacked execution. You should have ran my leg over with something, cart, car, whatever works. But no one has ever called you a lateral thinker.
And then of course you can't beat a one legged maniacal communist and a man who walked around with a friend in a cardboard box. You call it cheating what I did, I call it winning creatively, after all, it didn't go against the rules of the match. And it doens't change the fact that once again you are a failure.
You want to do it on your own and that is admirable, but you should be accepting all the help you can get. Because you've already proved that you can't really do anything to stop me by yourself. All you can do is hurt my leg. That's happened before.
I've been cut, broken, and bled more times than the Christians in the Roman Coliseum. This is nothing, Michaels. At least, Silver generally has the idea to attack someone's pride or gang up on them, all you apparently can do, is the work of a thug. Not an admirable New York City, no. But rather, a crack-addicted Los Angeles thug who speaks improper English. Must explain the shoddy work.
My leg will heal, Michaels, it has before. So, try to think deeper. I realize the disappointment you must be feeling right now with your comeback not exactly adding up to the world of success and enchantment that you wanted it to be. I wanted to beat Doc Silver for a title, I didn't get it. I punished the man responsible, you were there and found something else to do, another goal.
I did tell you, after all, I told you about this all. You didn't listen, but apparently you listened to the crowd. And their reaction is of course great, if enough cheer me, I can probably get my own religion started and get out of paying those cumbersome taxes. But it seems this is just the start of a new revelation for you, Michaels, and as I offered before, I will help.
The best path to enlightenment is the Zen Buddhist philosophy of through violence and pain. I agree with those, but there's so much for the truly inventive mind. I realize you can't think past hitting a knee with a crowbar, but luckily for all of us, I do. And as always I will show you.
Starr, I know little about you other than your patriotic stance. my only hope is that you're like most Americans in that you'll take bribes and do whatever I say and not think for yourself so I can win the match for us. Pretend you're voting in an election and do what is asked of you. Except this time, you might actually be rewarded. Not the title though, because I've grown somewhat attached to it, but keep the flag though, might want to wash the blood however.
And Eian, I know even less of you. It doesn't matter, I see you were involved, conspiring against me. Now just being next to Michaels si enough cause for me to act against you, but now, the evidence laid clear..there's just that extra amount of anger I have toward you. Let's see where it takes us.
((FADEIN: Michael Manson in black shirt and jeans, with the leg cut for his injured leg to be bandaged. The NA title lies next to him with it's design of a virtual pentagram with some of the lines missing at the center and a doubled edged M taking their place.))
MANSON: I did leave the ppv with an injured leg, Michaels, you're perceptive as ever. Of course I also left with the title while you left with completely nothing.
I will concede that I might have failed in my ideal quest to win the title from Silver....even now some guy with the name Psycho is walking arond with that title...making it all seem such a waste. But then again, I have my own title and it isn't likely that you'll see Rat Fink around anymore.
But you, Michaels, now have the distinction of failing twice in a single match. First, you try to injure my leg, something I won't moralize about. After all, I've done the same thing, only better. It was a good idea, just lacked execution. You should have ran my leg over with something, cart, car, whatever works. But no one has ever called you a lateral thinker.
And then of course you can't beat a one legged maniacal communist and a man who walked around with a friend in a cardboard box. You call it cheating what I did, I call it winning creatively, after all, it didn't go against the rules of the match. And it doens't change the fact that once again you are a failure.
You want to do it on your own and that is admirable, but you should be accepting all the help you can get. Because you've already proved that you can't really do anything to stop me by yourself. All you can do is hurt my leg. That's happened before.
I've been cut, broken, and bled more times than the Christians in the Roman Coliseum. This is nothing, Michaels. At least, Silver generally has the idea to attack someone's pride or gang up on them, all you apparently can do, is the work of a thug. Not an admirable New York City, no. But rather, a crack-addicted Los Angeles thug who speaks improper English. Must explain the shoddy work.
My leg will heal, Michaels, it has before. So, try to think deeper. I realize the disappointment you must be feeling right now with your comeback not exactly adding up to the world of success and enchantment that you wanted it to be. I wanted to beat Doc Silver for a title, I didn't get it. I punished the man responsible, you were there and found something else to do, another goal.
I did tell you, after all, I told you about this all. You didn't listen, but apparently you listened to the crowd. And their reaction is of course great, if enough cheer me, I can probably get my own religion started and get out of paying those cumbersome taxes. But it seems this is just the start of a new revelation for you, Michaels, and as I offered before, I will help.
The best path to enlightenment is the Zen Buddhist philosophy of through violence and pain. I agree with those, but there's so much for the truly inventive mind. I realize you can't think past hitting a knee with a crowbar, but luckily for all of us, I do. And as always I will show you.
Starr, I know little about you other than your patriotic stance. my only hope is that you're like most Americans in that you'll take bribes and do whatever I say and not think for yourself so I can win the match for us. Pretend you're voting in an election and do what is asked of you. Except this time, you might actually be rewarded. Not the title though, because I've grown somewhat attached to it, but keep the flag though, might want to wash the blood however.
And Eian, I know even less of you. It doesn't matter, I see you were involved, conspiring against me. Now just being next to Michaels si enough cause for me to act against you, but now, the evidence laid clear..there's just that extra amount of anger I have toward you. Let's see where it takes us.
NotorisSTD
League Member
eyes wide open....
(FADEIN: Here we have a shot of one big dark room. Standing under the only source of illumination there’s a chap who could be mistaken for Keanu Reaves’s doppelganger from an alternate universe. Our subject has long stringy purple hair that compliments a pair of dark sunglasses in obscuring his face. Why the glasses when the lighting’s already so dim? It’s a crazy world, I guess. He’s also got on black wrestling tights with white spiral designs all over 'em, and an old “Choking Victim” T-shirt with the sides cut through…The little edited in text at the bottom of the screen informs us that this is Felix Red, who is grinning in just such a way to make a body wonder what precisely is so funny? Maybe he’ll tell us…)
“The boy who destroyed the world”
FELIX RED: Maybe you’re the curious type. Maybe not, and maybe you simply don’t care. If the former, you’re asking yourself, “who is this? Where did he come from, and what does he have to do with any of this?” Maybe you’re a wise one, so you already know the answer. I’ve always been here. You just couldn’t always see me. I don’t want to, wouldn’t dare…my god, I couldn’t cease to exist if I wanted. I just disappear…and make myself known once again in whatever arbitrary place and time happens to be available…
None of that is really very important to any of you, is it? What concerns you is something that resembles hate festering between Michael Manson and someone named Scotty Michaels…without the means to create anything of your own, you’ve become vampires, leeches, sucking on anything that even feigns a real emotion. Then there’s me, to whom such things are so awe-fully useless…Manson has apparently already beaten Michaels by himself, and as whoever Michaels’s partner is supposed to be has yet to declare his existence, the outcome of this match is all but preordained. What we need isn’t any sort of meaning, we don’t need to have more than we started with after a fight between 4 essential strangers. The only way to keep from having utterly wasted this time, is to have less than we did before...
I understand that you might just be confused as to what questions to ask. Nothing here makes sense. I understand that none of this matters. The reasons why are utterly moot. I want the violence. Only. Peal back the millimeter thick blistered puss soaked surface, and You’re just like me…(FTB)
(FADEIN: Here we have a shot of one big dark room. Standing under the only source of illumination there’s a chap who could be mistaken for Keanu Reaves’s doppelganger from an alternate universe. Our subject has long stringy purple hair that compliments a pair of dark sunglasses in obscuring his face. Why the glasses when the lighting’s already so dim? It’s a crazy world, I guess. He’s also got on black wrestling tights with white spiral designs all over 'em, and an old “Choking Victim” T-shirt with the sides cut through…The little edited in text at the bottom of the screen informs us that this is Felix Red, who is grinning in just such a way to make a body wonder what precisely is so funny? Maybe he’ll tell us…)
“The boy who destroyed the world”
FELIX RED: Maybe you’re the curious type. Maybe not, and maybe you simply don’t care. If the former, you’re asking yourself, “who is this? Where did he come from, and what does he have to do with any of this?” Maybe you’re a wise one, so you already know the answer. I’ve always been here. You just couldn’t always see me. I don’t want to, wouldn’t dare…my god, I couldn’t cease to exist if I wanted. I just disappear…and make myself known once again in whatever arbitrary place and time happens to be available…
None of that is really very important to any of you, is it? What concerns you is something that resembles hate festering between Michael Manson and someone named Scotty Michaels…without the means to create anything of your own, you’ve become vampires, leeches, sucking on anything that even feigns a real emotion. Then there’s me, to whom such things are so awe-fully useless…Manson has apparently already beaten Michaels by himself, and as whoever Michaels’s partner is supposed to be has yet to declare his existence, the outcome of this match is all but preordained. What we need isn’t any sort of meaning, we don’t need to have more than we started with after a fight between 4 essential strangers. The only way to keep from having utterly wasted this time, is to have less than we did before...
I understand that you might just be confused as to what questions to ask. Nothing here makes sense. I understand that none of this matters. The reasons why are utterly moot. I want the violence. Only. Peal back the millimeter thick blistered puss soaked surface, and You’re just like me…(FTB)
Showtime24
League Member
RE: eyes wide open....
(FADEIN to Scotty Michaels, working out in his personal gym. Scotty is benchpressing, doing several reps of 350 pounds. Michaels, drops the weights and wipes the sweat from his brow... soon after, looking up into the camera..)
SCOTTY MICHAELS: "Since the last time I've enlightened all of you with my words of wisdom, the match at Rage in the Cage has got shifted a few times. I'm not quite too sure what happened with Johnny Starr, but he's not in this match anymore. Now we have some guy by the name of Felix Red, who thinks he's portraying a character twenty times more complex than Mike Manson and Rat Fink combined."
"Red, I don't know anything about you... and don't understand a word that you say, either. And as much as I despise the same fans who take Manson's side before my own, all I've got to say is that they don't have a clue or give a damn about the words that you say either. Yeah, I know that everywhere you look, you see something about the Matrix. I'm sure you got a little psyched about the Reloaded movie that came out a month ago... ya went out and bought the video game, the first movie on DVD, and that snazzy outfit that you're wearing today. That's all well and fine. Hell, I was worked up over the Matrix Reloaded myself, but I didn't decide to base my character off of it."
"As fu**ed up as Mike Manson may be, at least people think he's believable... see him as credible. Felix Red, that's all I've got to say about you. Everyone know exactly what my goal is going into this match. As much as I may have just torn you a new one, Red, it's Mike Manson who I've got my sights set on... and the North American championship."
"Now I know my partner for this match, Andre Eian, is the number one contender to his belt... but that matters none to me. You see, it started out as a pursuit for the North American championship... and believe you me, I still want the belt... but it's more than that now. I've got issues with Mike Manson, and they've barely just begun. While I was sitting at home for all those years, I watched your matches, Manson... and I was honestly entertained, probably more so than by the matches of any other."
"While you've got your sights set on Doc Silver and Psycho, I'm zoned in right on you. The reason is that I want to say that I beat the great Michael Manson. You've never pinned me, Manson. You've climbed ladders and grabbed championship belts... and hell, you lost that tag match at the Gates of Hell. Fact of the matter is that I believe that I am better than you. I believe that I can put on a better show than you.... I believe, that I can put more asses in those seats than you. Some may call me cocky, but I call it confidence."
"At Rage in the Cage, Manson... I'm going to pin your shoulders to the mat and prove that I should be the North American champion... better yet, that I should be the world heavyweight champion. Eian, Red.... step aside, because the show that the fans really want to see is between myself and Mike Manson."
(FADEOUT, as Scotty hits some more of the weight machines...)
(FADEIN to Scotty Michaels, working out in his personal gym. Scotty is benchpressing, doing several reps of 350 pounds. Michaels, drops the weights and wipes the sweat from his brow... soon after, looking up into the camera..)
SCOTTY MICHAELS: "Since the last time I've enlightened all of you with my words of wisdom, the match at Rage in the Cage has got shifted a few times. I'm not quite too sure what happened with Johnny Starr, but he's not in this match anymore. Now we have some guy by the name of Felix Red, who thinks he's portraying a character twenty times more complex than Mike Manson and Rat Fink combined."
"Red, I don't know anything about you... and don't understand a word that you say, either. And as much as I despise the same fans who take Manson's side before my own, all I've got to say is that they don't have a clue or give a damn about the words that you say either. Yeah, I know that everywhere you look, you see something about the Matrix. I'm sure you got a little psyched about the Reloaded movie that came out a month ago... ya went out and bought the video game, the first movie on DVD, and that snazzy outfit that you're wearing today. That's all well and fine. Hell, I was worked up over the Matrix Reloaded myself, but I didn't decide to base my character off of it."
"As fu**ed up as Mike Manson may be, at least people think he's believable... see him as credible. Felix Red, that's all I've got to say about you. Everyone know exactly what my goal is going into this match. As much as I may have just torn you a new one, Red, it's Mike Manson who I've got my sights set on... and the North American championship."
"Now I know my partner for this match, Andre Eian, is the number one contender to his belt... but that matters none to me. You see, it started out as a pursuit for the North American championship... and believe you me, I still want the belt... but it's more than that now. I've got issues with Mike Manson, and they've barely just begun. While I was sitting at home for all those years, I watched your matches, Manson... and I was honestly entertained, probably more so than by the matches of any other."
"While you've got your sights set on Doc Silver and Psycho, I'm zoned in right on you. The reason is that I want to say that I beat the great Michael Manson. You've never pinned me, Manson. You've climbed ladders and grabbed championship belts... and hell, you lost that tag match at the Gates of Hell. Fact of the matter is that I believe that I am better than you. I believe that I can put on a better show than you.... I believe, that I can put more asses in those seats than you. Some may call me cocky, but I call it confidence."
"At Rage in the Cage, Manson... I'm going to pin your shoulders to the mat and prove that I should be the North American champion... better yet, that I should be the world heavyweight champion. Eian, Red.... step aside, because the show that the fans really want to see is between myself and Mike Manson."
(FADEOUT, as Scotty hits some more of the weight machines...)
Manson
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 382
- Points
- 0
A Real American
((FADEIN: MICHAEL MANSON draps an arm back into a trunk and walks up to a table where an American flag is laying. He wipes his brow and begins on his BLT waiting for him. Lacking a napkin, he looks around and sees the American flag. He shrugs and uses the flag to wipe his chin, displaying the message handwritten on the flag, 'To Johnny Star, With All Our Support" -The United States Marine Core.))
MANSON: Well, now that Johnny Starr has been taken care of and will soon be carted off to an obscure Mid-Eastern country, we can get back on track here. To start, I also know othing of Felix Red, but already he's complimenting me, so he's not getting the trunk treatment, unlike some other real Americans around here.
But what I really like is his grasp of the obvious. I already beat Michaels...I beat Fink..and his partner is likely set to be in the cargo bay along with Starr on his fantastic voyage.The match is a formality, soimply an exercise.
I'm sure Michaels knows this as well. I wouldn't say I could beat 2 men by myself, even though I basically just did that. But really, it's great that you're a fan, Michaels. It's even better that you don't follow me around and try on my clothes when I'm in the bathroom.
And for that, I will do you a good turn. You said I was focused on Psycho, only half true, since I wouldn't waste my time on someone who never even bothered to look through a theasarus. No, I wanted Doc Silver in a title match and apparently, that's going to have be put off for some time.
So to amuse myself, I'm going to train you, I'm going to torment you, I'm going to put through everything that made me myself. That way, when you get your inevitable match for the North American title, you'll have a much better chance to actually unseat me. We'll start at rage in the cage and see what inventions I can devise to put you through. As if the people turning on you wasn't enough. There is always worse. Someone just has to think of it. Luckily, that's me.
You want to be better than me? All right then, you are. Happy? Or is that not enough? I wouldn't think so. I wouldn't accept that. Amd I'm going to make sure that you never would either.
((FADEIN: MICHAEL MANSON draps an arm back into a trunk and walks up to a table where an American flag is laying. He wipes his brow and begins on his BLT waiting for him. Lacking a napkin, he looks around and sees the American flag. He shrugs and uses the flag to wipe his chin, displaying the message handwritten on the flag, 'To Johnny Star, With All Our Support" -The United States Marine Core.))
MANSON: Well, now that Johnny Starr has been taken care of and will soon be carted off to an obscure Mid-Eastern country, we can get back on track here. To start, I also know othing of Felix Red, but already he's complimenting me, so he's not getting the trunk treatment, unlike some other real Americans around here.
But what I really like is his grasp of the obvious. I already beat Michaels...I beat Fink..and his partner is likely set to be in the cargo bay along with Starr on his fantastic voyage.The match is a formality, soimply an exercise.
I'm sure Michaels knows this as well. I wouldn't say I could beat 2 men by myself, even though I basically just did that. But really, it's great that you're a fan, Michaels. It's even better that you don't follow me around and try on my clothes when I'm in the bathroom.
And for that, I will do you a good turn. You said I was focused on Psycho, only half true, since I wouldn't waste my time on someone who never even bothered to look through a theasarus. No, I wanted Doc Silver in a title match and apparently, that's going to have be put off for some time.
So to amuse myself, I'm going to train you, I'm going to torment you, I'm going to put through everything that made me myself. That way, when you get your inevitable match for the North American title, you'll have a much better chance to actually unseat me. We'll start at rage in the cage and see what inventions I can devise to put you through. As if the people turning on you wasn't enough. There is always worse. Someone just has to think of it. Luckily, that's me.
You want to be better than me? All right then, you are. Happy? Or is that not enough? I wouldn't think so. I wouldn't accept that. Amd I'm going to make sure that you never would either.
Showtime24
League Member
RE: A Real American
(FADEIN to 'Superstar' SCOTTY MICHAELS, sitting at his dining room table, eating a tuna melt. Michaels puts down the sandwich, and licks his lips..)
SCOTTY MICHAELS: "Mike Manson, play all the games you want to. Train me, tease me, torture me... do whatever you damn well please to, because I'll bring it back twice as strong. When I first came back to the WFW, I only had gold on my mind... but now your utter amusement, and laughter toward me... don't think it goes without notice."
"At Rage in the Cage, we are both burdened with tag team partners that we really don't care about... as a matter of fact, it seems like your tag team partner changes daily. The powers that be here in the WFW, just decided to throw someone in named Felix Red. Someone you and I know nothing of. Well, it appears that his goal in this match is to kiss your ass. However, chances are that he won't make the difference. And as far as Andre Eian, I think he's dropped off the face of this earth."
"So when it comes down to you and me, when it comes down to the match that everyone's been waiting for.. for a long time, you can bring everything you've got and I'll bring twice as much. I'm not afraid of you, and I'm sure as hell not about to back down now."
"I started something at Cherry Blossom Chaos, that I intend to finish. You see, at that match I was all jacked up and all concerned about the damn title belt... so I made a huge mistake. I didn't execute the plot properly.. I didn't finish you off, Manson. It's going to be a while before the WFW big-whigs actually put you and me one on one in a match."
"So in the meantime, I'm just going to have to take every chance that I can get to take care of you. Rage in the Cage, it continues... and shortly thereafter, it ends... for you, Manson. Believe the hype, because it's about to consume you."
(FADEIN to 'Superstar' SCOTTY MICHAELS, sitting at his dining room table, eating a tuna melt. Michaels puts down the sandwich, and licks his lips..)
SCOTTY MICHAELS: "Mike Manson, play all the games you want to. Train me, tease me, torture me... do whatever you damn well please to, because I'll bring it back twice as strong. When I first came back to the WFW, I only had gold on my mind... but now your utter amusement, and laughter toward me... don't think it goes without notice."
"At Rage in the Cage, we are both burdened with tag team partners that we really don't care about... as a matter of fact, it seems like your tag team partner changes daily. The powers that be here in the WFW, just decided to throw someone in named Felix Red. Someone you and I know nothing of. Well, it appears that his goal in this match is to kiss your ass. However, chances are that he won't make the difference. And as far as Andre Eian, I think he's dropped off the face of this earth."
"So when it comes down to you and me, when it comes down to the match that everyone's been waiting for.. for a long time, you can bring everything you've got and I'll bring twice as much. I'm not afraid of you, and I'm sure as hell not about to back down now."
"I started something at Cherry Blossom Chaos, that I intend to finish. You see, at that match I was all jacked up and all concerned about the damn title belt... so I made a huge mistake. I didn't execute the plot properly.. I didn't finish you off, Manson. It's going to be a while before the WFW big-whigs actually put you and me one on one in a match."
"So in the meantime, I'm just going to have to take every chance that I can get to take care of you. Rage in the Cage, it continues... and shortly thereafter, it ends... for you, Manson. Believe the hype, because it's about to consume you."
andreshadow
League Member
Fade in to Andre Eian, Nr. 1 Contender for the North American Title. He's in a bar. A pretty dark bar, actually. He's sipping some beer and such. There's some old country on the jukebox. His black trenchcoat reflects the dim light into the camera, which slowly approaches the seated man.
[font color=red]Again, it's been a while. I took out Starr at CBC, as I stated I would, and in typical Eian fashion, I dissapeared for a few weeks. I suppose you people have come to expect nothing less from me. And that's always good. But now, I'm in a tag match. Even better, a high profile tag match.[/font]
He sips some beer.
[font color=red]And I couldn't be any more pleased with my partner. Sure, Michaels has outright challenged me for my not-yet-won title, but I woulnd't have it any other way. I don't know if it's a compliment or not, but you're better than Luster the man whore. Then again, that's not hard to top, but whatever. I'm sure with this flood of mutual respect we have going between us, this match should be a regular party. Just as long as we have one thing understood, Michaels. You attack me, and all bets are off. I can tolerate many things, but being screwed over by a tag partner is not one of them. If you so much as look at me the wrong way, you'll wake up a few hours later with a lump on your head and a sinking feeling in your stomach. But, now that the preliminary warning is done with...[/font]
He waves to the bartender for another beer. A bottle slides from off camera down the bar. Eian grabs it and chugs it.
[font color=red]Manson. You know, I haven't really payed much attention to you until now. And now I see you're one of the most long winded whiners I've ever seen. I'm sure you may be a good contender and all that, but outside of the ring, you seem like nothing but a self-worshipping prick. Hey, if it works for you, what the hell, right? But watch out, because I'm ready for some competition. Starr was nothing, Luster was a joke, so I'm hoping that you'll show me what WFW is all about. And I'm hoping we'll show the fans the same thing. This is our preliminary battle, Manson, and I hope you're not too preoccupied in your pising contest with Michaels. We'll see...
As for Felix Red, I don't much care. You can run off and do whatever in our match. Either way, it's either you or Manson going down. Hope and pray, Felix, that it's not you, because it'll more than likely end in a painful fashion.[/font]
He drinks what remains of his beer, then walks out of the picture. The screen fades.
[font color=red]Again, it's been a while. I took out Starr at CBC, as I stated I would, and in typical Eian fashion, I dissapeared for a few weeks. I suppose you people have come to expect nothing less from me. And that's always good. But now, I'm in a tag match. Even better, a high profile tag match.[/font]
He sips some beer.
[font color=red]And I couldn't be any more pleased with my partner. Sure, Michaels has outright challenged me for my not-yet-won title, but I woulnd't have it any other way. I don't know if it's a compliment or not, but you're better than Luster the man whore. Then again, that's not hard to top, but whatever. I'm sure with this flood of mutual respect we have going between us, this match should be a regular party. Just as long as we have one thing understood, Michaels. You attack me, and all bets are off. I can tolerate many things, but being screwed over by a tag partner is not one of them. If you so much as look at me the wrong way, you'll wake up a few hours later with a lump on your head and a sinking feeling in your stomach. But, now that the preliminary warning is done with...[/font]
He waves to the bartender for another beer. A bottle slides from off camera down the bar. Eian grabs it and chugs it.
[font color=red]Manson. You know, I haven't really payed much attention to you until now. And now I see you're one of the most long winded whiners I've ever seen. I'm sure you may be a good contender and all that, but outside of the ring, you seem like nothing but a self-worshipping prick. Hey, if it works for you, what the hell, right? But watch out, because I'm ready for some competition. Starr was nothing, Luster was a joke, so I'm hoping that you'll show me what WFW is all about. And I'm hoping we'll show the fans the same thing. This is our preliminary battle, Manson, and I hope you're not too preoccupied in your pising contest with Michaels. We'll see...
As for Felix Red, I don't much care. You can run off and do whatever in our match. Either way, it's either you or Manson going down. Hope and pray, Felix, that it's not you, because it'll more than likely end in a painful fashion.[/font]
He drinks what remains of his beer, then walks out of the picture. The screen fades.
NotorisSTD
League Member
title
(Same room, ‘cept the lights are on this time…Felix Red is sitting the grayish blue concrete floor in leather pants, a long sleeved plain white shirt and sunglasses, elbows on his knees, staring up at the camera. He, again, appears amused by something.)
“The boy who destroyed the world”
FELIX RED: A voice and image calling itself Scotty Michaels belittles me. How predictable. It says the so called “fans” don’t care what I have to say, as if to imply that this ought to bother me. The spectators have no idea who I am, and most of them aren’t very good listeners anyway. So yes, Mr. Michaels, you are very correct. But what’s more, If they care what you, Manson, Eian, or any one else on their televisions have to say they’re stupid and pretentious. This is bloodsport, and not something else. You obviously aren’t going to care what I have to say for the same set of reasons, which also underlines the awkward position you don’t seem to realize you’re in. You have no idea what I’m capable of. No idea what to expect. While I know enough about you to know exactly what to expect. You’ve trivialized me and spoken much of an alternate future where you’ve defeated Michael Manson, and thus become as important as you’ve been told he is. I’ve watched you do these very typical things. It’s as safe to assume as it ever is that you’ll continue conducting yourself so. Typically. Of course it’s never safe to assume anything. If logic isn’t in of itself a fallacy, then why can’t we predict the future?
I remind you of contemporary pop culture, and you remind me of an already well established “sports entertainer” who’s last name also happens to be Michaels. Coincidence? It doesn’t mater. I’m not here to analyze your ability to self market. I’m here to remake things. Manson, a philanthropist despite it all, has volunteered to destroy you in hopes of building something better in your place. You’re one of the lucky ones, Scotty Michaels. Does this qualify as me kissing Manson’s ass? Would you rather I kiss your ass, Michaels? Logically, it would be better to align myself with others who are better than the likes of you. Manson’s not better than you. Manson is infinitely worse. Which is why he usually wins…If/than statements crumble all around. How could anyone rip me a new one without laying a finger on me?
A voice an image going by “Andre Eian,” wants me to hope and pray that I don’t go down because it will hurt me so if I do. I have no idea what I did to this thing to make it hate me. Hope is Suicide. Faith is worse than heroine, and It is far better to die slowly and painfully a thousand times over than to spend any time feeling nothing at all. of course, if what I really wanted was to win this wrestling match, perhaps putting my boot through the back of Mr. Eian’s skull would be more effective than happy thoughts and prayers? Considering putting my boot through someone’s skull is a worthwhile end in of itself, the match, the organization, is a means to revel in chaos under the banner of social respectability. My eyes are open, and thus I have no choice but to revel in chaos constantly, appropriate place and time or not. I'm better at this than most people, because I get so much more practice...
(Same room, ‘cept the lights are on this time…Felix Red is sitting the grayish blue concrete floor in leather pants, a long sleeved plain white shirt and sunglasses, elbows on his knees, staring up at the camera. He, again, appears amused by something.)
“The boy who destroyed the world”
FELIX RED: A voice and image calling itself Scotty Michaels belittles me. How predictable. It says the so called “fans” don’t care what I have to say, as if to imply that this ought to bother me. The spectators have no idea who I am, and most of them aren’t very good listeners anyway. So yes, Mr. Michaels, you are very correct. But what’s more, If they care what you, Manson, Eian, or any one else on their televisions have to say they’re stupid and pretentious. This is bloodsport, and not something else. You obviously aren’t going to care what I have to say for the same set of reasons, which also underlines the awkward position you don’t seem to realize you’re in. You have no idea what I’m capable of. No idea what to expect. While I know enough about you to know exactly what to expect. You’ve trivialized me and spoken much of an alternate future where you’ve defeated Michael Manson, and thus become as important as you’ve been told he is. I’ve watched you do these very typical things. It’s as safe to assume as it ever is that you’ll continue conducting yourself so. Typically. Of course it’s never safe to assume anything. If logic isn’t in of itself a fallacy, then why can’t we predict the future?
I remind you of contemporary pop culture, and you remind me of an already well established “sports entertainer” who’s last name also happens to be Michaels. Coincidence? It doesn’t mater. I’m not here to analyze your ability to self market. I’m here to remake things. Manson, a philanthropist despite it all, has volunteered to destroy you in hopes of building something better in your place. You’re one of the lucky ones, Scotty Michaels. Does this qualify as me kissing Manson’s ass? Would you rather I kiss your ass, Michaels? Logically, it would be better to align myself with others who are better than the likes of you. Manson’s not better than you. Manson is infinitely worse. Which is why he usually wins…If/than statements crumble all around. How could anyone rip me a new one without laying a finger on me?
A voice an image going by “Andre Eian,” wants me to hope and pray that I don’t go down because it will hurt me so if I do. I have no idea what I did to this thing to make it hate me. Hope is Suicide. Faith is worse than heroine, and It is far better to die slowly and painfully a thousand times over than to spend any time feeling nothing at all. of course, if what I really wanted was to win this wrestling match, perhaps putting my boot through the back of Mr. Eian’s skull would be more effective than happy thoughts and prayers? Considering putting my boot through someone’s skull is a worthwhile end in of itself, the match, the organization, is a means to revel in chaos under the banner of social respectability. My eyes are open, and thus I have no choice but to revel in chaos constantly, appropriate place and time or not. I'm better at this than most people, because I get so much more practice...