Post by Danny Vice on Jan 24, 2007 15:03:26 GMT -5
The scene opens with the camera panning on the innerworkings of a large clocktower. It is a dark night, with the only real light coming from the illumination of the face of the clock, which brightens the dark city skyline somewhere in some city, in some state, in some county. The camera moves slowly from left to right, as well as up and down, to show the absolutely massive structure and it’s most detailed and intricate pieces. The inner structure itself stands several stories tall, yet the face of the clock is about 25 feet in diameter. The gears inside rotate slowly, in perfect synch with one another. They move like any high performance machine would be expected to create such a flawless timepiece. Each gear so simplistic when standing alone, yet incredibly complex when interlocked, intertwined, and connected.
The camera moves away from the mammoth gears and around towards the face of the clock. There, on a ledge, is a dark figure one can fully assume is Danny Vice. The bright lights from the clock face create merely a silhouette of Vice, as his distinguishing features are too dark to see. However, the way he is leaned back while sitting on the ledge, along with his signature long trenchcoat, make one fairly certain that it is Vice seated there.
From Danny’s vantage point he can see through the thin glass of the clockface to see the people below. Of course, due to his height, they look no larger than an ant or fly. Busy cars move through the city streets, as the sounds of any hectic city can be readily heard from atop Vice’s perch. He speaks somberly, a man lost in the confusion of his own life and an internal struggle heading into the biggest weekend in the WCF year.
Danny Vice: Look at them down there. All of them. They are so busy. Moving so quickly. They miss the beauty of a clear night skyline like tonight. They’re all like The Vagrant. Sunrise. Sunset. Days fly by. One day you look up and you’re a small boy with a dream. The next day you look up and you’re a grown man who has lost sight of what that small boy wished and hoped for. Does it even matter to you?
Vice changes his position atop the ledge, sitting almost Indian style.
Danny Vice: Those people are no different than this very clock. Each of them an integral part of the whole. Where gears, nuts, bolts, columns, rods, and screws hold this beautiful structure together, push it along, constantly chugging away and being a symbol of the constant survival of this city. Yet they don’t even know it. Skyler Striker and The Vagrant are also much like these gears. And this clock, the WCF. Striker and Vagrant know that apart they are insignificant and unimportant. Just two large metal arrangements without a purpose or cause. Yet together, although continuously grinding against one another, the two have found their perfect place to make the WCF work. Completely interlocked, intertwined and connected. Their two paths have crossed so many times it seems as if it's become just one. Like great two rivers colliding and creating a tumultuous rapid. All the while, pushing each other further and further with every meeting - as chaotic as a rapd, yet at the same time, as smooth as a well-oiled machine. At One, it all changes. When it is all said and done, this match for The Vagrant and Skyler Striker may define them forever.
Vice puts his heads in his hands, dually afraid and excited for his opportunity just several days away. It seems he has finally accepted his calling and the collision course that he and Striker have been put on.
Danny Vice: Where is this heading? What is this great purpose, you ask? The clock is running down on Skyler Striker’s reign as hardcore champion. In the Extreme Hell in a Cell two men will surely enter, but two entirely different men will leave. One wild rapid will calm. The clock will continue to tick. But the WCF, will never be the same.
The camera fades out, and fading in is the three words:
To be continued…
The camera moves away from the mammoth gears and around towards the face of the clock. There, on a ledge, is a dark figure one can fully assume is Danny Vice. The bright lights from the clock face create merely a silhouette of Vice, as his distinguishing features are too dark to see. However, the way he is leaned back while sitting on the ledge, along with his signature long trenchcoat, make one fairly certain that it is Vice seated there.
From Danny’s vantage point he can see through the thin glass of the clockface to see the people below. Of course, due to his height, they look no larger than an ant or fly. Busy cars move through the city streets, as the sounds of any hectic city can be readily heard from atop Vice’s perch. He speaks somberly, a man lost in the confusion of his own life and an internal struggle heading into the biggest weekend in the WCF year.
Danny Vice: Look at them down there. All of them. They are so busy. Moving so quickly. They miss the beauty of a clear night skyline like tonight. They’re all like The Vagrant. Sunrise. Sunset. Days fly by. One day you look up and you’re a small boy with a dream. The next day you look up and you’re a grown man who has lost sight of what that small boy wished and hoped for. Does it even matter to you?
Vice changes his position atop the ledge, sitting almost Indian style.
Danny Vice: Those people are no different than this very clock. Each of them an integral part of the whole. Where gears, nuts, bolts, columns, rods, and screws hold this beautiful structure together, push it along, constantly chugging away and being a symbol of the constant survival of this city. Yet they don’t even know it. Skyler Striker and The Vagrant are also much like these gears. And this clock, the WCF. Striker and Vagrant know that apart they are insignificant and unimportant. Just two large metal arrangements without a purpose or cause. Yet together, although continuously grinding against one another, the two have found their perfect place to make the WCF work. Completely interlocked, intertwined and connected. Their two paths have crossed so many times it seems as if it's become just one. Like great two rivers colliding and creating a tumultuous rapid. All the while, pushing each other further and further with every meeting - as chaotic as a rapd, yet at the same time, as smooth as a well-oiled machine. At One, it all changes. When it is all said and done, this match for The Vagrant and Skyler Striker may define them forever.
Vice puts his heads in his hands, dually afraid and excited for his opportunity just several days away. It seems he has finally accepted his calling and the collision course that he and Striker have been put on.
Danny Vice: Where is this heading? What is this great purpose, you ask? The clock is running down on Skyler Striker’s reign as hardcore champion. In the Extreme Hell in a Cell two men will surely enter, but two entirely different men will leave. One wild rapid will calm. The clock will continue to tick. But the WCF, will never be the same.
The camera fades out, and fading in is the three words:
To be continued…
