Post by Kyle on Apr 30, 2012 5:17:34 GMT -5
I'd like to say Sorry to Ben for screwing up. I had thought I sent this in to Seth, but it seems the PM I wrote up never ended up getting sent. But I feel our segment should be seen regardless.
Cameras pan around the the arena, looking up at a giant golden toilet sitting in the center of the ring, as the crowd buzzes with confusion. "Ecstasy of Gold" by Ennio Morricone plays on the sound system and the audience erupts in boos. The intricate melodies sweeping over the arena. Benjamin Atreyu, wearing a king's crown and with the United States title in hand, pushes pass the curtains, Blake Updegraff IV following right behind him with a microphone in hand, stepping out onto the entrance ramp. Blake Updegraff points at Benjamin, presenting him to the angry crowd.
Blake Updegraff IV: Rise! Rise for YOUR champion! Rise for “GOD GIVEN GREATNESS” BENJAMIN ATREYU!
He slides into the ring as his manager walks up the stairs taunting the crowd. Benjamin Atreyu jumps to his feet as Blake Updegraff slips in between the top and middle rope. Benjamin steps up a small step ladder at the front of the giant golden toilet and takes a seat on the edge.
Blake Updegraff IV: Ladies and gentlemen, YOUR United States Champion, Benjamin Atreyu, would like to share some words about his upcoming bout with Nathan Von Liebert, and his future reign as both United States and Television Champion. So, if you would please remain quiet throughout these proceedings, it would be greatly appreciated. This segment was brought to you by Future Gods Incorporated: Tomorrow Was Yesterday.
The crowd continues to boo loudly.
Blake Updegraff IV: SILENCE! YOUR CHAMPION DEMANDS SILENCE!
The crowd refuses to quiet down. After much protest from Blake, he gives up and just hands Benjamin the microphone. The crowd continues to spew their hatred and Blake plugs his ears and mocks the crowd immaturely.
Benjamin Atreyu: Its fine, Blake. They may not realize it, but I am the kind of champion they need, right now. In a company made up of fools, psychotics, stoners, and low-lifes, they need a champion who can rise above the filth and give this place some class and prestige. Hence, the “throne” sitting in the ring. It plays off of the old retort “...and I wish I had a giant gold toilet”, usually meaning that they desire to hit a peak of success and have SO much money, that they could purchase such a ridiculously expensive object. This is a metaphor of sorts; I have the kind of success that you all wish you could have. I can offer this company something no other wrestler here could offer, so why do you continue to fight me?
Crowd: FLUSH THE BELT! FLUSH THE BELT! FLUSH THE BELT!
Blake stomps around the ring angrily, yelling back at the crowd. Benjamin just sakes his head, waiting for the crowd to quiet down. Eventually its down to only a select few individuals yelling various comments, but they are hardly loud enough to be noticed.
Benjamin Atreyu: That is exactly what I am talking about. I try to offer something beneficial to you and you reject it, because, due to what little pride you have left, you refuse to accept me as your champion. I even made an attempt to come down to your level with this stupid, low-brow, toilet humor, but I digress. I didn't come out here to make a case to be liked, a case that I shouldn't even have to make. Instead, I came out here to talk about a my little match-up with Nathan Von Liebert, the current Television Champion.
Blake begins laughing and mocks Nathan Von Liebert by stomping around like an ape.
Benjamin Atreyu: I'm not sure how someone that...defective, gets a title shot and I don't care to know. The only thing that matters is I will be walking out of our match the NEW Television Champion. Now, some people, including little Nathan, have been bitching about the fact that the United States title isn't up for grabs in this match too. Well, the truth is that Blake, myself, and the Wrestling Championship Federation all agreed that it wouldn't be fair for Nathan just to be handed a title shot out of the blue. We all think that he should have to work for it and since I DID work for my Television Championship, the company choose to keep it just a Television title match.
The crowd erupts in boos again and Benjamin just waves them off.
Benjamin Atreyu: It was an executive decision, one that I agree with, and you can't argue with a decision that comes from the higher-ups. So, sorry Nathan, but it looks like you'll have to wait to get a shot at MY title. Not that I'm not completely confident that I would be able to retain it without breaking a sweat, it just wouldn't be fair. Now, with that being said, I think I'll enjoy Aftermath from the back as I prepare for my match.
Benjamin Atreyu starts to climb down from the giant golden toilet, but suddenly...
The high pitch scream of a woman rings over the PA, announcing the arrival of the television champion Nathan von Liebert. The man himself walks out onto the ramp, showered with boos. Not as many as the ones Benjamin earned, but enough to show the crowd's dislike of Nathan. But he ignores them, his brown eyes focused only on one man. Benji.
NvL: Defective? Imperfect or faulty? That is how you wish to describe me in front of everyone. Maybe, and I'm just spitballing here, but can you be anymore obvious? I'm not perfect, Seth Lerch is not perfect, Jay Price is not perfect. . . Hell even you ain't perfect. You come out here with your golden toilet and talk about striving for a peak of success. But really this is how I see it. All you've done with that toilet is made the shit that comes of you look golden. Not the words you speak; I meant your actual shit.
Nathan is slowly walking down the ramp, television championship resting on his shoulder and mic in his red hand. Benjamin watches on in the ring, hand on his own shoulder, listening to what his opponent has to say.
NvL: And shit seems to spew out of your mouth more than anyone else I've seen. You question how I earned my title shot? I won not one, or two, but three damn matches before I even fought for the title. I had three contendership matches before the title was on the line for me. This isn't like we're questioning you earning a chance at the United States championship, which you didn't. And even after I say that again, and again. . . and again. . . and fuckin' again, you still do not understand.
Nathan has made it to ringside now. He walks up the steel steps, but doesn't quite climb into the ring yet. Instead he pauses at the apron, watching Benjamin.
NvL: The thing is, Benji, you're not the best in this company by a long shot. People don't have to fight their ass off to face you, Benji. I'm not fighting you tonight; YOU'RE fighting me. You earned a title shot to face me. You had to bust your ass to earn a shot against me. And there is nothing wrong with that. It is a dream of many people to get a shot against me. Maybe not men like Slickie T and Bobby Cairo, but mid-carders like you always want a chance to topple bigger opposition. But do you actually think I can't argue against higher authority?
Nathan smirks, and flips the bird at the Benji. He doesn't drop it, lifting it to the WCF logo above the ring, and pans around the arena, pausing on each WCF item, from workers to tee shirts.
NvL: Fuck WCF and Fuck you, Benji. Good arguement?
Nathan's smirk widens as he steps into the ring. He doesn't walk towards Benji, instead pausing in the corner to watch Benji.
NvL: After tonight, I won't have any desire to fight for your title. Because by then, it will have lost all prestige. You're no real champion, Ben. D-Day would've accepted without or without consent from Seth. Odin Balfore would've already made up a tee shirt with the words "I jobber-squashed NvL.' Jay Price and I would be fighting already. Those men can be considered true champions; you cannot. And you won't be for much longer. Sure you'll still be United States champion, but no one will consider you any good. Everybody will know that I beat you. And the only reason you still hold that title is because you kissed Seth's Lerch ass to keep it.
Nathan points straight at the United States Championship.
NvL: After our match, when I retain my title, you'll know where to find your title. Just open the lid, and you'll find the shit that you made staring up at you from your toilet.
Nathan lowers his hand.
Benjamin Atreyu: First off, you refer to me as Mister Atreyu. Not Benji, not Ben, just Mister Atreyu. I don't care if we are opponents, I am the US champion and you WILL respect me. I didn't come back to this business and work my ass off to be insulted by some insignificant half-baked boogeyman-wannabe like yourself. This title...
Benjamin grabs his title and pulls it off of his shoulder and holds it over his head.
Benjamin Atreyu: ...means more over my shoulder than any title reign you have ever had and after our match, you will recognize that. You're right, it is me fighting you; I made this match happen by blowing through the competition and creating such a ruckus that they HAD to give me a shot. This isn't about you; this is about me, and unfortunately you just happened to holding the title as I was on my way up. I'm gunning for your title and the bout is going to so one-sided it won't even be fair.
Blake stands beside Benjamin, yelling at Nathan without a microphone.
Benjamin Atreyu: You can talk about “defending” your title against whoever, but it comes down to the same thing, you have never faced anyone as talented or as intelligent as me. I am years ahead of anyone else in this company, and there are a series of wrestlers, who've faced me, that can attest to that. I am efficient, smart, and powerful. I am more focused than you are on your best day, I keep at least five steps ahead at all times, and I'm a damn technician in that ring and that's why I am going to walk out as a DOUBLE CHAMPION. You aren't going to lose because you are inferior, even though you are; you are going to lose because I was sculpt and crafted into being a champion. I don't destroy my body with drugs, I don't go home and think about movies deals, this business is all I ever think about, because this is the career I grew up wanting. I'm not going to let a crowd full of invalids or some brain damaged nutcase ruin what I have strived to achieve
Nathan only smirks, and pauses to set down here his belt on the apron.
NvL: Well I'd hate to keep you waiting any longer to your inevitable loss. So how we get this started?
Cameras pan around the the arena, looking up at a giant golden toilet sitting in the center of the ring, as the crowd buzzes with confusion. "Ecstasy of Gold" by Ennio Morricone plays on the sound system and the audience erupts in boos. The intricate melodies sweeping over the arena. Benjamin Atreyu, wearing a king's crown and with the United States title in hand, pushes pass the curtains, Blake Updegraff IV following right behind him with a microphone in hand, stepping out onto the entrance ramp. Blake Updegraff points at Benjamin, presenting him to the angry crowd.
Blake Updegraff IV: Rise! Rise for YOUR champion! Rise for “GOD GIVEN GREATNESS” BENJAMIN ATREYU!
He slides into the ring as his manager walks up the stairs taunting the crowd. Benjamin Atreyu jumps to his feet as Blake Updegraff slips in between the top and middle rope. Benjamin steps up a small step ladder at the front of the giant golden toilet and takes a seat on the edge.
Blake Updegraff IV: Ladies and gentlemen, YOUR United States Champion, Benjamin Atreyu, would like to share some words about his upcoming bout with Nathan Von Liebert, and his future reign as both United States and Television Champion. So, if you would please remain quiet throughout these proceedings, it would be greatly appreciated. This segment was brought to you by Future Gods Incorporated: Tomorrow Was Yesterday.
The crowd continues to boo loudly.
Blake Updegraff IV: SILENCE! YOUR CHAMPION DEMANDS SILENCE!
The crowd refuses to quiet down. After much protest from Blake, he gives up and just hands Benjamin the microphone. The crowd continues to spew their hatred and Blake plugs his ears and mocks the crowd immaturely.
Benjamin Atreyu: Its fine, Blake. They may not realize it, but I am the kind of champion they need, right now. In a company made up of fools, psychotics, stoners, and low-lifes, they need a champion who can rise above the filth and give this place some class and prestige. Hence, the “throne” sitting in the ring. It plays off of the old retort “...and I wish I had a giant gold toilet”, usually meaning that they desire to hit a peak of success and have SO much money, that they could purchase such a ridiculously expensive object. This is a metaphor of sorts; I have the kind of success that you all wish you could have. I can offer this company something no other wrestler here could offer, so why do you continue to fight me?
Crowd: FLUSH THE BELT! FLUSH THE BELT! FLUSH THE BELT!
Blake stomps around the ring angrily, yelling back at the crowd. Benjamin just sakes his head, waiting for the crowd to quiet down. Eventually its down to only a select few individuals yelling various comments, but they are hardly loud enough to be noticed.
Benjamin Atreyu: That is exactly what I am talking about. I try to offer something beneficial to you and you reject it, because, due to what little pride you have left, you refuse to accept me as your champion. I even made an attempt to come down to your level with this stupid, low-brow, toilet humor, but I digress. I didn't come out here to make a case to be liked, a case that I shouldn't even have to make. Instead, I came out here to talk about a my little match-up with Nathan Von Liebert, the current Television Champion.
Blake begins laughing and mocks Nathan Von Liebert by stomping around like an ape.
Benjamin Atreyu: I'm not sure how someone that...defective, gets a title shot and I don't care to know. The only thing that matters is I will be walking out of our match the NEW Television Champion. Now, some people, including little Nathan, have been bitching about the fact that the United States title isn't up for grabs in this match too. Well, the truth is that Blake, myself, and the Wrestling Championship Federation all agreed that it wouldn't be fair for Nathan just to be handed a title shot out of the blue. We all think that he should have to work for it and since I DID work for my Television Championship, the company choose to keep it just a Television title match.
The crowd erupts in boos again and Benjamin just waves them off.
Benjamin Atreyu: It was an executive decision, one that I agree with, and you can't argue with a decision that comes from the higher-ups. So, sorry Nathan, but it looks like you'll have to wait to get a shot at MY title. Not that I'm not completely confident that I would be able to retain it without breaking a sweat, it just wouldn't be fair. Now, with that being said, I think I'll enjoy Aftermath from the back as I prepare for my match.
Benjamin Atreyu starts to climb down from the giant golden toilet, but suddenly...
The high pitch scream of a woman rings over the PA, announcing the arrival of the television champion Nathan von Liebert. The man himself walks out onto the ramp, showered with boos. Not as many as the ones Benjamin earned, but enough to show the crowd's dislike of Nathan. But he ignores them, his brown eyes focused only on one man. Benji.
NvL: Defective? Imperfect or faulty? That is how you wish to describe me in front of everyone. Maybe, and I'm just spitballing here, but can you be anymore obvious? I'm not perfect, Seth Lerch is not perfect, Jay Price is not perfect. . . Hell even you ain't perfect. You come out here with your golden toilet and talk about striving for a peak of success. But really this is how I see it. All you've done with that toilet is made the shit that comes of you look golden. Not the words you speak; I meant your actual shit.
Nathan is slowly walking down the ramp, television championship resting on his shoulder and mic in his red hand. Benjamin watches on in the ring, hand on his own shoulder, listening to what his opponent has to say.
NvL: And shit seems to spew out of your mouth more than anyone else I've seen. You question how I earned my title shot? I won not one, or two, but three damn matches before I even fought for the title. I had three contendership matches before the title was on the line for me. This isn't like we're questioning you earning a chance at the United States championship, which you didn't. And even after I say that again, and again. . . and again. . . and fuckin' again, you still do not understand.
Nathan has made it to ringside now. He walks up the steel steps, but doesn't quite climb into the ring yet. Instead he pauses at the apron, watching Benjamin.
NvL: The thing is, Benji, you're not the best in this company by a long shot. People don't have to fight their ass off to face you, Benji. I'm not fighting you tonight; YOU'RE fighting me. You earned a title shot to face me. You had to bust your ass to earn a shot against me. And there is nothing wrong with that. It is a dream of many people to get a shot against me. Maybe not men like Slickie T and Bobby Cairo, but mid-carders like you always want a chance to topple bigger opposition. But do you actually think I can't argue against higher authority?
Nathan smirks, and flips the bird at the Benji. He doesn't drop it, lifting it to the WCF logo above the ring, and pans around the arena, pausing on each WCF item, from workers to tee shirts.
NvL: Fuck WCF and Fuck you, Benji. Good arguement?
Nathan's smirk widens as he steps into the ring. He doesn't walk towards Benji, instead pausing in the corner to watch Benji.
NvL: After tonight, I won't have any desire to fight for your title. Because by then, it will have lost all prestige. You're no real champion, Ben. D-Day would've accepted without or without consent from Seth. Odin Balfore would've already made up a tee shirt with the words "I jobber-squashed NvL.' Jay Price and I would be fighting already. Those men can be considered true champions; you cannot. And you won't be for much longer. Sure you'll still be United States champion, but no one will consider you any good. Everybody will know that I beat you. And the only reason you still hold that title is because you kissed Seth's Lerch ass to keep it.
Nathan points straight at the United States Championship.
NvL: After our match, when I retain my title, you'll know where to find your title. Just open the lid, and you'll find the shit that you made staring up at you from your toilet.
Nathan lowers his hand.
Benjamin Atreyu: First off, you refer to me as Mister Atreyu. Not Benji, not Ben, just Mister Atreyu. I don't care if we are opponents, I am the US champion and you WILL respect me. I didn't come back to this business and work my ass off to be insulted by some insignificant half-baked boogeyman-wannabe like yourself. This title...
Benjamin grabs his title and pulls it off of his shoulder and holds it over his head.
Benjamin Atreyu: ...means more over my shoulder than any title reign you have ever had and after our match, you will recognize that. You're right, it is me fighting you; I made this match happen by blowing through the competition and creating such a ruckus that they HAD to give me a shot. This isn't about you; this is about me, and unfortunately you just happened to holding the title as I was on my way up. I'm gunning for your title and the bout is going to so one-sided it won't even be fair.
Blake stands beside Benjamin, yelling at Nathan without a microphone.
Benjamin Atreyu: You can talk about “defending” your title against whoever, but it comes down to the same thing, you have never faced anyone as talented or as intelligent as me. I am years ahead of anyone else in this company, and there are a series of wrestlers, who've faced me, that can attest to that. I am efficient, smart, and powerful. I am more focused than you are on your best day, I keep at least five steps ahead at all times, and I'm a damn technician in that ring and that's why I am going to walk out as a DOUBLE CHAMPION. You aren't going to lose because you are inferior, even though you are; you are going to lose because I was sculpt and crafted into being a champion. I don't destroy my body with drugs, I don't go home and think about movies deals, this business is all I ever think about, because this is the career I grew up wanting. I'm not going to let a crowd full of invalids or some brain damaged nutcase ruin what I have strived to achieve
Nathan only smirks, and pauses to set down here his belt on the apron.
NvL: Well I'd hate to keep you waiting any longer to your inevitable loss. So how we get this started?
