Post by Corey Black on Oct 8, 2006 1:59:07 GMT -5
Our scene opens up to a doctor's office. A man is sitting on the table, awaiting the doctor's arrival. The walls and table are white, and off in the corner is a desk with tools on it. The door opens, and in walks the doctor, back to the camera the whole time.
Doctor: I don't know how to tell you this, Mister Anderson, but ... you have cancer.
Anderson: CANCER?!
Doctor: Yes. There is cancerous tissue in your liver, and I'm deeply sorry.
Anderson: Well, are there any advances on a cure?
Doctor: Advances?
Anderson: Yeah, towards curing cancer...
Doctor: There already IS a cure for The Cancer ... and that is Death.
The doctor turns around, revealing himself to be Creeping Death. As he turns, he grabs a jar of swabs on the desk. Not stopping, CD smashes Anderson in the head with the jar, shattering it, and knocking Anderson off the table to the floor. Creeping Death grabs a scalpel and the scene quickly fades out.
We fade back in with CD sitting backstage at the WCF Arena, in a long hallway. Creeping Death is slouched against the wall, knees up to his chest.
Creeping Death: Drake Kencedro, returning from his leave of absence, getting into the ring with Creeping Death. Unfortunate circumstances, to say the least. The guy just generally pisses most everyone off here, inside and outside the ring. Not to mention the fact that he is still, basically, a newbie. When I eliminated Steve Carr from his position as head of WCF, I thought the problem with those new guys was solved. Guess Kyle and the committee want me to prove myself worthy.
I'll be honest Drake, I hate you. Not only because you're new, but because you're cocky, and you don't have anything to back it up with. Not only that, but it seems like you've got it in for me. If I didn't know any better, I'd bet if you had the chance, you'd change your name to "crap iz death" to try to be like me.
I NEED a group to back me up, Drake? Wrong. So, very wrong. I have a group to back me up because everyone else thinks they need to have a group, and they need eighteen people in it. I got my guys together, guys that are like me. In the same situation. We want Logan gone. You don't have a group to back you up because nobody fucking likes you.
You're insane, man. I'm known for using weapons to win because I'm constantly in matches where weapons are legal. Simple as that. I don't break the rules to win. That just isn't my style.
Infecting your way to the top, heh, sounds like something Shannan Lerch did. Maybe people should call you "The Clap" instead of "The Cancer".
Creeping Death stands up, and begins walking down the hall, towards an entrance to the arena itself.
Creeping Death: All joking and total owning aside, this Friday night, will be one for the ages. I alone, not WCF, will present "XIII" to the world. I said before that I was pondering a main event, and I have come to a conclusion. It will be like nothing you've ever seen before. If you think of the craziest match you can, multiply it by thirty, and you have what the main event will be.
Also, I'm going to announce my final wish. This wish, like the last two, will effect WCF as a whole once more. Things around here have been going for long enough, it's time for it to end. October will be my month. WCF will never be the same after this.
Creeping Death reaches the entrance to the arena, and we see a drawing taped to it. It looks like building blueprints, but the camera isn't on it long enough to make anything out.
Creeping Death: Sunday at Slam, Friday at XIII, and all October ... starting with Drake, and ending with WCF, the bell tolls for ... you.
CD walks into the arena as the camera stays behind and fades to black.
Doctor: I don't know how to tell you this, Mister Anderson, but ... you have cancer.
Anderson: CANCER?!
Doctor: Yes. There is cancerous tissue in your liver, and I'm deeply sorry.
Anderson: Well, are there any advances on a cure?
Doctor: Advances?
Anderson: Yeah, towards curing cancer...
Doctor: There already IS a cure for The Cancer ... and that is Death.
The doctor turns around, revealing himself to be Creeping Death. As he turns, he grabs a jar of swabs on the desk. Not stopping, CD smashes Anderson in the head with the jar, shattering it, and knocking Anderson off the table to the floor. Creeping Death grabs a scalpel and the scene quickly fades out.
We fade back in with CD sitting backstage at the WCF Arena, in a long hallway. Creeping Death is slouched against the wall, knees up to his chest.
Creeping Death: Drake Kencedro, returning from his leave of absence, getting into the ring with Creeping Death. Unfortunate circumstances, to say the least. The guy just generally pisses most everyone off here, inside and outside the ring. Not to mention the fact that he is still, basically, a newbie. When I eliminated Steve Carr from his position as head of WCF, I thought the problem with those new guys was solved. Guess Kyle and the committee want me to prove myself worthy.
I'll be honest Drake, I hate you. Not only because you're new, but because you're cocky, and you don't have anything to back it up with. Not only that, but it seems like you've got it in for me. If I didn't know any better, I'd bet if you had the chance, you'd change your name to "crap iz death" to try to be like me.
I NEED a group to back me up, Drake? Wrong. So, very wrong. I have a group to back me up because everyone else thinks they need to have a group, and they need eighteen people in it. I got my guys together, guys that are like me. In the same situation. We want Logan gone. You don't have a group to back you up because nobody fucking likes you.
You're insane, man. I'm known for using weapons to win because I'm constantly in matches where weapons are legal. Simple as that. I don't break the rules to win. That just isn't my style.
Infecting your way to the top, heh, sounds like something Shannan Lerch did. Maybe people should call you "The Clap" instead of "The Cancer".
Creeping Death stands up, and begins walking down the hall, towards an entrance to the arena itself.
Creeping Death: All joking and total owning aside, this Friday night, will be one for the ages. I alone, not WCF, will present "XIII" to the world. I said before that I was pondering a main event, and I have come to a conclusion. It will be like nothing you've ever seen before. If you think of the craziest match you can, multiply it by thirty, and you have what the main event will be.
Also, I'm going to announce my final wish. This wish, like the last two, will effect WCF as a whole once more. Things around here have been going for long enough, it's time for it to end. October will be my month. WCF will never be the same after this.
Creeping Death reaches the entrance to the arena, and we see a drawing taped to it. It looks like building blueprints, but the camera isn't on it long enough to make anything out.
Creeping Death: Sunday at Slam, Friday at XIII, and all October ... starting with Drake, and ending with WCF, the bell tolls for ... you.
CD walks into the arena as the camera stays behind and fades to black.
