J
JLebron
Guest
More at stake than ya bargained for.......
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Nov-29-02 AT 11:53 PM (EST)](SLOWLY FADE TO.... the sounds of cheering and thunderous roars, distant at first, then gradually increasing in intensity as it lingers aimlessly within the confines of a black screen. Small holes are suddenly punched out randomly on the screen, like little peep-holes as they pierce the barriers of black void, allowing us tiny indistinct glimpses of our intended scene. The small holes continue to eat up the black screens' void until we realize that we're traveling down a corridor, apparently away from the source of the cheers as they quickly fade and succumb to the more subdued chatter of the corridor crowd. The image proceeds on down the corridor, slowing down and stopping for the occasional passersby who give more than just a momentary, curious glance, some of them even point down the hall, as if they know who we came to see. The image continues to lead us down the corridor, shaking a bit as it makes an occasional left or right turn as it attempts to allow us a peek into the rooms it passes. By this time, the corridor has become noticeably congested with people, some of them half-dressed, some only wearing tights while others are wrapped only with a towel..... or nothing at all. It's at that precise moment that we realize that we're proceeding through the locker-room halls of the Toledo Sports Arena. It's also at that moment that we apparently reach our destination as the image bounces slightly, it makes a sharp left turn and pushes open a creaking door. Immediately we see a side view of a large man. His head is tilted forward with his unkempt, wet black mane hanging listlessly..... still trickling droplets of water onto his heaving massive chest, only to meander down his chisled body until it hits the waistband of his jeans which by the dark contrast in shade, is drenched. Without looking up, and without shifing his position, the large man curls both wrists upward and motions for us to come closer with his hands. As we do so, he slowly raises his head and tosses us a brief glimpse through the shards of wet locks of hair. He then looks away and continues to only allow us a profile view. After a few moments he raises both hands and strains the wetness from his hair. He remains that way as he draws his hair back away from his face..... allowing us only a profile, but yet still enough for us to recognize him as the man the GLCW has come to know simply as.......)
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MAELSTROM: So ya decided my fate already eh Manson? (sighs heavily then answers in sarcastic tones) Now THAT's real original! I mean, yer only like the 100th person or so to toss that threat my way so you'll just have to 'scuse my NOT appearing overly concerned or intimidated right now. Ya stammer out all yer rhetoric of accomplishments and such, yet to be perfectly honest Manson..... despite all that, ya think entirely too much of yer own abilities. I mean lets face it, where a torrential down-pour represents a measuring stick for intellect, yer capacity only affords ya a harmless light drizzle. Am I doubting yer abilities? No, merely assessing them in their present state. Ya definitely got what it takes to get the job done..... USUALLY that is, howver, yer desperately grasping right now, reaching 'cuz uncertainty has breached yer facade and ya know that very soon the GLCW's NEW reality will be glaring at ya through MY eyes..... it's hurtling yer way, and there isn't a damn thing ya can do 'bout it! Soon, the entire world will get a first-hand look at matching yer hollow threats with yer impulsive actions. That mystique ya fancy for yerself is at risk of being exposed for the fallacy it really is. There's a LOT more at stake here than ya bargained for Manson, more than ya could ever hope to perceive.... and less than I've already endured. In the blink of an eye...... each of our worlds, yers and Blazers, as well as mine and Golem's can become suspect.... only difference is, yer all still virgins to the impasse I've already breached so very long ago.......
(Maelstrom tilts his head and cocks an ear as hears the locker-room P.A. system begin to make the introductions for his match. He begins to hear his theme music, "Enter Sandman" pipe through the locker-room speakers, but he doesn't budge. He sits there momentarily before he finally gets up, a faint malicious grin on his face, and walks straight towards us. His image looms before us until it passes us by when he exits through the doorway and heads down the long corridor. Everyone immediately gets out of his way, forming a gauntlet of sorts by either plastering themselves up against the wall or by entering into their locker-room. Some whisper comments only AFTER he passes them by. Whether or not Maelstrom hears, or even cares remains a mystery as he continues to traverse the gauntlet...... a gauntlet strikingly similar to the one he was compelled to tread a few years past which ultimately changed his perceptions, his entire life...... FADE OUT.....)
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Nov-29-02 AT 11:53 PM (EST)](SLOWLY FADE TO.... the sounds of cheering and thunderous roars, distant at first, then gradually increasing in intensity as it lingers aimlessly within the confines of a black screen. Small holes are suddenly punched out randomly on the screen, like little peep-holes as they pierce the barriers of black void, allowing us tiny indistinct glimpses of our intended scene. The small holes continue to eat up the black screens' void until we realize that we're traveling down a corridor, apparently away from the source of the cheers as they quickly fade and succumb to the more subdued chatter of the corridor crowd. The image proceeds on down the corridor, slowing down and stopping for the occasional passersby who give more than just a momentary, curious glance, some of them even point down the hall, as if they know who we came to see. The image continues to lead us down the corridor, shaking a bit as it makes an occasional left or right turn as it attempts to allow us a peek into the rooms it passes. By this time, the corridor has become noticeably congested with people, some of them half-dressed, some only wearing tights while others are wrapped only with a towel..... or nothing at all. It's at that precise moment that we realize that we're proceeding through the locker-room halls of the Toledo Sports Arena. It's also at that moment that we apparently reach our destination as the image bounces slightly, it makes a sharp left turn and pushes open a creaking door. Immediately we see a side view of a large man. His head is tilted forward with his unkempt, wet black mane hanging listlessly..... still trickling droplets of water onto his heaving massive chest, only to meander down his chisled body until it hits the waistband of his jeans which by the dark contrast in shade, is drenched. Without looking up, and without shifing his position, the large man curls both wrists upward and motions for us to come closer with his hands. As we do so, he slowly raises his head and tosses us a brief glimpse through the shards of wet locks of hair. He then looks away and continues to only allow us a profile view. After a few moments he raises both hands and strains the wetness from his hair. He remains that way as he draws his hair back away from his face..... allowing us only a profile, but yet still enough for us to recognize him as the man the GLCW has come to know simply as.......)
[/center]
MAELSTROM: So ya decided my fate already eh Manson? (sighs heavily then answers in sarcastic tones) Now THAT's real original! I mean, yer only like the 100th person or so to toss that threat my way so you'll just have to 'scuse my NOT appearing overly concerned or intimidated right now. Ya stammer out all yer rhetoric of accomplishments and such, yet to be perfectly honest Manson..... despite all that, ya think entirely too much of yer own abilities. I mean lets face it, where a torrential down-pour represents a measuring stick for intellect, yer capacity only affords ya a harmless light drizzle. Am I doubting yer abilities? No, merely assessing them in their present state. Ya definitely got what it takes to get the job done..... USUALLY that is, howver, yer desperately grasping right now, reaching 'cuz uncertainty has breached yer facade and ya know that very soon the GLCW's NEW reality will be glaring at ya through MY eyes..... it's hurtling yer way, and there isn't a damn thing ya can do 'bout it! Soon, the entire world will get a first-hand look at matching yer hollow threats with yer impulsive actions. That mystique ya fancy for yerself is at risk of being exposed for the fallacy it really is. There's a LOT more at stake here than ya bargained for Manson, more than ya could ever hope to perceive.... and less than I've already endured. In the blink of an eye...... each of our worlds, yers and Blazers, as well as mine and Golem's can become suspect.... only difference is, yer all still virgins to the impasse I've already breached so very long ago.......
(Maelstrom tilts his head and cocks an ear as hears the locker-room P.A. system begin to make the introductions for his match. He begins to hear his theme music, "Enter Sandman" pipe through the locker-room speakers, but he doesn't budge. He sits there momentarily before he finally gets up, a faint malicious grin on his face, and walks straight towards us. His image looms before us until it passes us by when he exits through the doorway and heads down the long corridor. Everyone immediately gets out of his way, forming a gauntlet of sorts by either plastering themselves up against the wall or by entering into their locker-room. Some whisper comments only AFTER he passes them by. Whether or not Maelstrom hears, or even cares remains a mystery as he continues to traverse the gauntlet...... a gauntlet strikingly similar to the one he was compelled to tread a few years past which ultimately changed his perceptions, his entire life...... FADE OUT.....)
