Post by Torture on Jan 2, 2009 6:57:00 GMT -5
- The opening of a small cemetery somewhere in the middle of the grassy hillside of Angels Camp, California. The archway is it's only entry. No surrounding gates. It only rests several coffins. The tombstones are placed about randomly within a hundred and fifty feet radius. The sun glaring down on the second day of 2009. No breeze. Just a stale coldness with the sun shining straight downward. The windy road that leads to this place holds no cars for miles.
- We first see a shadow as we span around. We stop at the base of the shadow. Two black and white Nike kicks. We pan upwards to notice black slacks with a matching belt. Still going upwards, you'll notice a white dress shirt, with a suit coat draped over his shoulders. It's clear now. Clear as a day in the middle of Angels Camp.
- It's the One and Only.
Torture: Breathing in this fresh air reminds me of the good ol' days, Corey. The days of us being on top. We ruled the god damn kingdom and neither you or myself were ever denied anything. Yes.. the good ol' days.
- Torture inhales the fresh air. He exhales and begins.
Torture: What happened on Sunday Night as a prime example of how long I can last, Corey. How far I can go. The men who were put in front of me, to stop me, we're defeated and dominated. Corey, it's a matter of time before you're finally my victim.
- He stops quickly. He looks to the side.
Torture: What's that Tort? Wait. What? Corey Mothaflippin Black has never been defeated by Torture one on one? No way, Tort. This defies odds. This goes back on all history ever created by you, this may be the one thing, the one rock, the one wall you haven't climbed, the one man.. who may be holding you.. from the Hall of Fame. The one soul.. who is stopping me from becoming the greatest.
You see, Black. Death. Creeps. Corey. Brother. Friend. Enemy. No matter what I call you, it's all the same. No matter what we've done together, whether we were on the same team, or we were going at it head to head, the outcome has always been clear. The ending has always been the same no matter how we got there. I never pin you.
I guess, if you look at it through your eyes, you never pinned me either, but as Chad Evans saw first hand, nobody does.
- He smiles. It's priceless. You'd want to take a picture if you were here. But you're not. That's why you can't take a picture. Anyways..
Torture: The names are endless, dude. If this was a cemetery for people I've beaten, this cemetery would only be maybe one-third. Guys like Logan, Reckless Jack, Gonz0, Rick Mad, Hellz Angel, Dake Ken, Vidneo, PC Cradle, Dragula, Nate Nytro, Wreck, David Baker, X-Rated, Twister, Mad Dogg, Spike Kane, Defman, Trent Hunter.. yes, I said Trent Hunter. Burn Out, JJ Biggs, Danny Vice, Steve Carr, Howie, Hate, and even Lawnmower Jones. More recently, I just added Chad Evans and lets be honest, Outcast's name has been on this list since they even thought of Outcast fighting me. His chances of beating me are the same chances they give horses on becoming glue.
The list is forever man. There is a list of other guys that isn't even on that list, cause I don't think highly of them. Who is missing? Who is the one man that I have had many a matches with, yet for some reason isn't.. ON MY GOD DAMN LIST.
THE ANSWER IS YOU... Ahem..
- The One and Only fixes his sleeves on his coat and then adjusts his watch. He wipes his brow.
Torture: Tables, Ladders, Hardcore Championships, World Championships, steak dinners, XCW matches, XPW matches, GWC matches, even Nate Nytro's federation matches.. hell.. even the Royal Rumble from EWE! In WCF, my accomplishments and title reigns speak for themselves! World Champion for a half a year, and never lost the god damn thing! Hardcore Champion for longer than that, and yet, never lost the god damn thing. Only two time Peoples Champion, and never lost that either. See, Black? I don't lose! SO HOW THE HELL DO YOU KEEP GETTING AWAY FROM ME?
- One and only turns from the camera. Putting his face in his hands, obvious frustration. He begins to mumble to himself.
Torture: It can't be you. It's not you. It's Creeping Death! It's not you.. you're a winner.. a Champion.. a destroyer of all whom step into the ring. No way it can be you...
- A slow laugh begins. He turns back to the camera.
Torture: Heh.* I applaud you, my friend. I don't know what to say. This Sunday night it isn't for the Championship Belt, even though we both know who would win that fight. This Sunday night it's more than just gold. It's more than just two souls on a whirlwind road of destiny. It's more than just two professional athletes fighting in a main event to cater to fans. It's Torture versus Corey Black. The good ol' days right?
- Just as he finishes, Torture steps towards the camera. It pans to the left as it turns to get him in the shot. Just over his left shoulder is a bell tower. Timed perfectly. Noon strikes. The bell begins to toll.
- A sadistic, yet cocky smile comes over Torture. He begins to get teary eyed full of intensity.
Torture: This Sunday night. No escaping. This Sunday night. Torture gets his final victim.
- The bell still tolling in the background. We fade to black. Dark scene, we see nothing, scene is fully black. The bell toll's twice more. The end.
- We first see a shadow as we span around. We stop at the base of the shadow. Two black and white Nike kicks. We pan upwards to notice black slacks with a matching belt. Still going upwards, you'll notice a white dress shirt, with a suit coat draped over his shoulders. It's clear now. Clear as a day in the middle of Angels Camp.
- It's the One and Only.
Torture: Breathing in this fresh air reminds me of the good ol' days, Corey. The days of us being on top. We ruled the god damn kingdom and neither you or myself were ever denied anything. Yes.. the good ol' days.
- Torture inhales the fresh air. He exhales and begins.
Torture: What happened on Sunday Night as a prime example of how long I can last, Corey. How far I can go. The men who were put in front of me, to stop me, we're defeated and dominated. Corey, it's a matter of time before you're finally my victim.
- He stops quickly. He looks to the side.
Torture: What's that Tort? Wait. What? Corey Mothaflippin Black has never been defeated by Torture one on one? No way, Tort. This defies odds. This goes back on all history ever created by you, this may be the one thing, the one rock, the one wall you haven't climbed, the one man.. who may be holding you.. from the Hall of Fame. The one soul.. who is stopping me from becoming the greatest.
You see, Black. Death. Creeps. Corey. Brother. Friend. Enemy. No matter what I call you, it's all the same. No matter what we've done together, whether we were on the same team, or we were going at it head to head, the outcome has always been clear. The ending has always been the same no matter how we got there. I never pin you.
I guess, if you look at it through your eyes, you never pinned me either, but as Chad Evans saw first hand, nobody does.
- He smiles. It's priceless. You'd want to take a picture if you were here. But you're not. That's why you can't take a picture. Anyways..
Torture: The names are endless, dude. If this was a cemetery for people I've beaten, this cemetery would only be maybe one-third. Guys like Logan, Reckless Jack, Gonz0, Rick Mad, Hellz Angel, Dake Ken, Vidneo, PC Cradle, Dragula, Nate Nytro, Wreck, David Baker, X-Rated, Twister, Mad Dogg, Spike Kane, Defman, Trent Hunter.. yes, I said Trent Hunter. Burn Out, JJ Biggs, Danny Vice, Steve Carr, Howie, Hate, and even Lawnmower Jones. More recently, I just added Chad Evans and lets be honest, Outcast's name has been on this list since they even thought of Outcast fighting me. His chances of beating me are the same chances they give horses on becoming glue.
The list is forever man. There is a list of other guys that isn't even on that list, cause I don't think highly of them. Who is missing? Who is the one man that I have had many a matches with, yet for some reason isn't.. ON MY GOD DAMN LIST.
THE ANSWER IS YOU... Ahem..
- The One and Only fixes his sleeves on his coat and then adjusts his watch. He wipes his brow.
Torture: Tables, Ladders, Hardcore Championships, World Championships, steak dinners, XCW matches, XPW matches, GWC matches, even Nate Nytro's federation matches.. hell.. even the Royal Rumble from EWE! In WCF, my accomplishments and title reigns speak for themselves! World Champion for a half a year, and never lost the god damn thing! Hardcore Champion for longer than that, and yet, never lost the god damn thing. Only two time Peoples Champion, and never lost that either. See, Black? I don't lose! SO HOW THE HELL DO YOU KEEP GETTING AWAY FROM ME?
- One and only turns from the camera. Putting his face in his hands, obvious frustration. He begins to mumble to himself.
Torture: It can't be you. It's not you. It's Creeping Death! It's not you.. you're a winner.. a Champion.. a destroyer of all whom step into the ring. No way it can be you...
- A slow laugh begins. He turns back to the camera.
Torture: Heh.* I applaud you, my friend. I don't know what to say. This Sunday night it isn't for the Championship Belt, even though we both know who would win that fight. This Sunday night it's more than just gold. It's more than just two souls on a whirlwind road of destiny. It's more than just two professional athletes fighting in a main event to cater to fans. It's Torture versus Corey Black. The good ol' days right?
- Just as he finishes, Torture steps towards the camera. It pans to the left as it turns to get him in the shot. Just over his left shoulder is a bell tower. Timed perfectly. Noon strikes. The bell begins to toll.
- A sadistic, yet cocky smile comes over Torture. He begins to get teary eyed full of intensity.
Torture: This Sunday night. No escaping. This Sunday night. Torture gets his final victim.
- The bell still tolling in the background. We fade to black. Dark scene, we see nothing, scene is fully black. The bell toll's twice more. The end.
