Post by Torture on Mar 27, 2009 12:05:45 GMT -5
- The Tort is sitting in a chair in the middle of a very dim-lit room. His serious tone into the camera adds to the intensity of the match up on our hands. The Reckless Torture match up.
Torture: You remember our first World Title match Brad? The stipulation surrounding it was that I wasn't to lay a hand on you, and you weren't to lay a hand on me. Interesting stipulation. This time around you've done nothing but provoke me, assault me, and begin to trash my luxurious items. It's always the extreme with you, and how you go from one to the other. Happy to sad, excitement to depression but never in the middle. At Aftermath we had a fight to end all fights and it ended in my favor, of course, everything ends in my favor. You see, you like to play these games Brad, these sick, disturbing games of cat and mouse but you forget.. Yeah, you forget whose been playing those games longer, who started those games, who wins.. at those games. Brad, I think this time, you bit off more than you can chew.
At Timebomb in November of 2003, I made my debut. Since then I have divided and conquered every single wrestler that has been put in my path. I've cheated, I've dominated, I've methodically thought my way through, I've done it all. What have you done in six years? Did you win the first Peoples' Championship? Were you the longest reigning Hardcore Champion in the history of Professional Sports? Did you win the Tag Team titles and completely obliterate the competition? Did you win the World Title and never lose it? I can go on and on, but Brad I understand your bitter taste in your mouth. I realize why you, like many, are so bitter about me. It's simple, really. You see, when you noticed Trent Hunter on his way out, and Logan starting to slip up you saw a chance. You knew there was an opportunity to become the front man, the number one guy, of the Wrestling Championship Federation. You knew it could have been Brad Kane's Era, you wanted it bad, and you tried real hard to take advantage of that opportunity but you lost it. You lost that era.. to me.
Brad this is my air castle and I reign supreme. This is my place in the sky, and my time won't run out any time soon. The first time we met you were just the lucky number sixty-seven, and now you're in the hundreds, two hundreds, I don't even know anymore. Listen, Underdog. You'll never match up to anything I have accomplished ever, and that gets to you. That irks you inside. The way you feel about me is the way everyone feels about Superman when he keeps winning, and winning, and never backing down from the bad guy. Brad, I'm superman, I'm Captain Awesome, I'm the greatest wrestler.. in the world. When this is all over and done with Brad, do you think they'll remember you before me? Can you honestly tell yourself while you lay in bed with Megan that Brad Kane is better than Torture. Dude, come on. Think about the life you could have had, and the life you should have, then come back to me when you think you're even remotely close to being in the top ten in this federation, let alone the top twenty or thirty.
Kane are you honestly telling me that you're having dreams of huge dicks, and future son in laws? What the hell? Is your evolution cycle going the wrong way? You can dream of taking the World Title off my shoulders, you can fantasize more sex roleplays, and you can try real hard at making Brad Kane look like a legit human being while wanting to kill off every person here like some sort of smoke monster on an island. You've beaten me down, you've left me to dry, you've taken your frustrations out on my personal vehicle, and you've attempted to get inside my head. It will all come crashing down on Sunday, Brad. All of this nonsense is over. You will not win, I guarantee it. You've met your maker.
The game we're playing is fun though, isn't it? Back and forth, you got me, I'll get you. That's right Brad. At Sunday's Timebomb, our match will be the greatest match ever, and you don't even know it yet. There's one last secret ingredient for our bout, but I can't tell you just yet. Where would the fun be? Where is the fun in telling you what's going to happen on Sunday when it's only Friday? Brad, at Timebomb you're going to implode, your inner self will shrink to normal size, and your beaten down, broken, lifeless soul will finally grasp what I have been saying all along. Brad Kane is the longest running gag of the Wrestling Championship Federation. You're just a joke with no punchline. So Lifeless Jack. What's it going to be? You going to come out on Sunday and end this game yourself, or am I going to have to send you somewhere so you can think about the bad decisions and irresponsible choices you have made. There are rules, Brad, this isn't Vietnam.
- Ring. Ring. Ring. A cell phone is vibrating and ringing. Torture, with his sick-sadistic manner slowly reaches his hand out and picks up his cellular. He puts it to his ear.
Torture: Everything good? Great. I'll see you on Sunday.
- The Tort puts his phone down. We pan backwards to see that Torture was sitting in his own chair in his own living room, except the place is a mess. The book shelf is on the floor, the couch is ripped apart, the TV is on it's side half way across the room. Scene fades out.
Torture: You remember our first World Title match Brad? The stipulation surrounding it was that I wasn't to lay a hand on you, and you weren't to lay a hand on me. Interesting stipulation. This time around you've done nothing but provoke me, assault me, and begin to trash my luxurious items. It's always the extreme with you, and how you go from one to the other. Happy to sad, excitement to depression but never in the middle. At Aftermath we had a fight to end all fights and it ended in my favor, of course, everything ends in my favor. You see, you like to play these games Brad, these sick, disturbing games of cat and mouse but you forget.. Yeah, you forget whose been playing those games longer, who started those games, who wins.. at those games. Brad, I think this time, you bit off more than you can chew.
At Timebomb in November of 2003, I made my debut. Since then I have divided and conquered every single wrestler that has been put in my path. I've cheated, I've dominated, I've methodically thought my way through, I've done it all. What have you done in six years? Did you win the first Peoples' Championship? Were you the longest reigning Hardcore Champion in the history of Professional Sports? Did you win the Tag Team titles and completely obliterate the competition? Did you win the World Title and never lose it? I can go on and on, but Brad I understand your bitter taste in your mouth. I realize why you, like many, are so bitter about me. It's simple, really. You see, when you noticed Trent Hunter on his way out, and Logan starting to slip up you saw a chance. You knew there was an opportunity to become the front man, the number one guy, of the Wrestling Championship Federation. You knew it could have been Brad Kane's Era, you wanted it bad, and you tried real hard to take advantage of that opportunity but you lost it. You lost that era.. to me.
Brad this is my air castle and I reign supreme. This is my place in the sky, and my time won't run out any time soon. The first time we met you were just the lucky number sixty-seven, and now you're in the hundreds, two hundreds, I don't even know anymore. Listen, Underdog. You'll never match up to anything I have accomplished ever, and that gets to you. That irks you inside. The way you feel about me is the way everyone feels about Superman when he keeps winning, and winning, and never backing down from the bad guy. Brad, I'm superman, I'm Captain Awesome, I'm the greatest wrestler.. in the world. When this is all over and done with Brad, do you think they'll remember you before me? Can you honestly tell yourself while you lay in bed with Megan that Brad Kane is better than Torture. Dude, come on. Think about the life you could have had, and the life you should have, then come back to me when you think you're even remotely close to being in the top ten in this federation, let alone the top twenty or thirty.
Kane are you honestly telling me that you're having dreams of huge dicks, and future son in laws? What the hell? Is your evolution cycle going the wrong way? You can dream of taking the World Title off my shoulders, you can fantasize more sex roleplays, and you can try real hard at making Brad Kane look like a legit human being while wanting to kill off every person here like some sort of smoke monster on an island. You've beaten me down, you've left me to dry, you've taken your frustrations out on my personal vehicle, and you've attempted to get inside my head. It will all come crashing down on Sunday, Brad. All of this nonsense is over. You will not win, I guarantee it. You've met your maker.
The game we're playing is fun though, isn't it? Back and forth, you got me, I'll get you. That's right Brad. At Sunday's Timebomb, our match will be the greatest match ever, and you don't even know it yet. There's one last secret ingredient for our bout, but I can't tell you just yet. Where would the fun be? Where is the fun in telling you what's going to happen on Sunday when it's only Friday? Brad, at Timebomb you're going to implode, your inner self will shrink to normal size, and your beaten down, broken, lifeless soul will finally grasp what I have been saying all along. Brad Kane is the longest running gag of the Wrestling Championship Federation. You're just a joke with no punchline. So Lifeless Jack. What's it going to be? You going to come out on Sunday and end this game yourself, or am I going to have to send you somewhere so you can think about the bad decisions and irresponsible choices you have made. There are rules, Brad, this isn't Vietnam.
- Ring. Ring. Ring. A cell phone is vibrating and ringing. Torture, with his sick-sadistic manner slowly reaches his hand out and picks up his cellular. He puts it to his ear.
Torture: Everything good? Great. I'll see you on Sunday.
- The Tort puts his phone down. We pan backwards to see that Torture was sitting in his own chair in his own living room, except the place is a mess. The book shelf is on the floor, the couch is ripped apart, the TV is on it's side half way across the room. Scene fades out.
