A Game of Thrones: Song of Ice and Fire
Oct 21, 2018 22:58:48 GMT -5
Night Rider, The Very Big Śpainards, and 1 more like this
Post by Teo Blaze on Oct 21, 2018 22:58:48 GMT -5
It was going to be a good week.
The scene opens for the viewer on a long stretch of highway, black asphalt along a long stretch of orange desert. A dry, arid scene that was decorated only by a few white and puffy clouds floating throughout an endless blanket of light blue.
And yet, for as barren as the road was, the sounds could not be called the same, for in the distance, the viewer can hear something. A low humming at first, slowly building up, rolling into something more audible, something loud. It builds, gradually, into something...fierce. Something angry….something hungry.
Like a lion’s roar.
After a few moments, the noise reaches its zenith, and in the distance, along the long stretch of highway, a red speck appears, growing closer….closer as the roar grows louder...and louder.
Then, all at once, at a practical blur, the viewer is greeted by a cherry red convertible, speeding along the road at a pace that defied any and all posted limits, blasting along the highway like a missile as the radio filled the air with the sound of rock and roll, fighting like a gladiator with the roar of the engine to be heard.
It was Teo Blaze, and he was in quite a mood.
Teo had thought about this moment for weeks, months even, going back past WAR...a chance to recapture that Television title, that golden treasure that so many had sought, had fought and bled for, that belt that had eluded him for years since it slipped through his grasp all those years ago.
As he roared along the empty highway, he let his eyes drift up to the skyline. He had always enjoyed the desert, but he had to admit there was something about the smell of the desert air whipping past his face, the sound of the sand echoing the roar of the music and the engine. He throws his head back happily, looking with a grin through the clear blue sky for that ball of fire that always greeted him on days like this.
His mind filled with a roar, the sound of a ringing bell, the cacophony of an exuberant crowd, the weight on his shoulder as the referee held his hand aloft and placed that beautiful, shining piece of gold over him.
The world was his, and quite frankly it was only a matter of time before the world realized it.
Teo’s smile could only be described as euphoric as his mind drifted to his match. Here he had been preparing for someone like Dune, like Kurt Navarro or Night Rider...a WCF Legend, a mainstay, an icon…
Someone with a bit of skill, a little talent or at the very least someone who had the decency to carry themselves like a champion.
But no, that was not his fate.
This week he was up against...Kennedy Mat-
Teo interrupted his own train of thought with a bout of uproarious laughter. He couldn’t help himself. To think that he was going up against that poor girl bandying about a ten-cent knockoff of a twenty-cent gimmick, well…
It made him laugh.
Teo was well aware of the downfall that came with ego, but he just couldn’t help himself. Every time he tried to picture Matthews holding up the Television championship, a title she won a virtual technicality...all he could see was a little girl holding up her father’s briefcase.
“Look at me, I’m a champion!”
It was adorable.
And as Teo sped down the highway, the grin grew bigger. He was not a man who came from a place of ego. His confidence was not based on a misguided notion of his own abilities, a zealous underestimation of his opponent.
This was the confidence of a man who realized that he was not speeding towards a challenge, or even a fight.
His match this week, the visions of victory that danced through his mind were not a possibility.
They were an eventuality.
And as the thought echoed in his mind, he continued speeding down the highway at breakneck speed, the sound of rock music blaring behind him, he couldn’t help but smile.
The viewer is now greeted by darkness, an inky black darkness that, were it not for the small Must-See TV logo at the bottom right corner of the screen, might be mistaken for a television malfunction.
But as light slowly penetrates the darkened room, it becomes intimately clear that as dark as the room is, it is not empty. Directly in the center of the room sits an object, an object that becomes more and more familiar as it comes slowly into focus.
It’s a large object, with jagged points seeming to stick out at it in a circular pattern. It looks almost metallic, and yet in the center there is a cushion, placed as though for someone to sit.
Finally, however, does the scene become clear. In the center of a large cavernous hall is a direct replica of the famous Iron Throne...with one major difference.
While the Iron throne was composed of the swords of enemies, surrendered to its construction, the iron throne in this room is made entirely out of Television Remote Controls and computer keyboards.
And fittingly, the man who is seated is not the lord of the seven kingdoms, but the one and only unchallenged King of All Media...Teo Blaze.
The King sits across the throne with a huge, ear, to ear smile, dangling his legs off one side, dressed in a white suit with a red tie and his now iconic glasses, a sceptre in one hand with a replica of his now-retired crown affixed to the top of it. He twirls it happily as he looks toward the camera.
Teo Blaze: Good evening, WCF, how have you been?
I’m here today to tell you a story. A story of two young warriors who got it in their head that they wanted to be royalty.
As Teo speaks, he stands up from the throne, twirling the sceptre still in his right hand as he gestures with his left.
Teo Blaze: The first warrior, well, she wasn’t exactly the brightest...she thought as long, and as hard as she possibly could, and she thought about all the things that a queen should have. So she looked up all the classic details. She started turning her nose up to people, started telling anyone who would listen not only who she was, but also how great she was. She called people “peasant” and started hurling insults at every single person who she came across. She put on fancy clothes, and expensive makeup, and she started giving speeches…
Teo rolls his eyes exaggeratedly at the word.
Teo Blaze: Long, LONG speeches that droned on and on about how great she was, how wonderful she was, that she was wrestling royalty, god’s gift to the giftless, a hundred pounds of solid gold in a five pound bodace.
She put her picture up at every chance, she wore the most expensive clothes, the most elaborate outfits, she made every single aspect of her life about proving to the world how great she was.
At this point Teo reaches into his pocket and removes a small device. He grins and hold it up to the camera, where it displays a post on his twitter feed.
Teo Blaze: Listen to the rhetoric going on here. “The world needs no reminder that I exist”
Methinks the lady doth protest too much.
“The World doesn’t need a reminder I exist” She says, quickly reminding the wrestling world that she exists.
Teo chuckles to himself.
Teo Blaze: This warrior is just like that throne back there, ironic to the core.
See, the thing about this warrior, for all of her bluster, was that her massive, throbbing ego, the very thing that supposedly drove her to strive for the heights of royalty was at once her biggest weakness.
Kennedy Matthews’s words are not the words of a person confident in her abilities, oh no, they’re the words of someone desperately trying to cover up for the fact that she is a scared little girl playing princess.
It’s smoke and mirrors belying a complete and utter lack of substance.
Every week she comes in with the exact same pose, the exact same image.
Kennedy Matthews on a blue background, trying her best to look demure and alluring, she wants us to see a glorious goddess, a queen!
I see repetition.
Staleness.
I.
See.
Boredom.
This poor warrior is trying so hard, so desperately to grab everyone’s attention, to hold our eyes.
But when you get down to it, what is she, really?
What does she have that hasn’t been done a hundred times better by countless WCF wrestlers throughout the years?
I know she does research, seeing as she loves to cut promos based on WCF’s history. You want to see ego backed by talent, Kennedy? Look up Kyle Kemp. Look up Jonny Fly. Look up Andre Holmes.
As Teo lists of the names, a flash of light seems to shine off his glasses, as though a vicious thought has just flashed across his mind. His demeanor remains confident, but something is different, he has changed from carefree to a more...determined look.
Teo Blaze: And while you’re at it, look up who took their titles away.
Teo inhales deeply as he slowly turns back towards the throne, his back now towards the camera.
Teo Blaze: We are very different types of Royalty, you and I, Kennedy Matthews.
Teo practically spits the words now, and as he speaks, one can see that his grip has tightened on his sceptre, his knuckles now beginning to grow white.
Teo Blaze: You? You’re ice. You’re cold….calculating. You shut out everyone who tries to approach you, desperately building yourself a deeper and deeper fortress, a harder and harder shell of frozen fear…
Fear that you’ll be exposed, fear that someone will walk along and knock you down a peg.
Keeping everyone in your life at arm’s length, freezing out anyone who could possibly expose you for what you are.
Anyone who could melt away that cold outer shell to get to the woman inside.
Look at how quickly you jumped at me to hold up your WAR elimination, an elimination that you stole from Navarro.
And who eliminated you again, your lowness?
Oh, that’s right, Jazzy John McCarthy. A name so Unrecognizable, a talent so meaningless, so forgettable, so bland that he didn’t even recognize himself on the WCF introduction.
Think about that. When I was eliminated from WAR, it became a huge story. People were talking for days about it. I became far and away one of the most memorable parts of that night, one of the most talked-about competitors in the entire match.
You?
You had to remind people that you got an elimination at all.
Teo grins, looking directly at the camera. Any pretext of playfulness is gone, his eyes are practically glowing, as though an open flame has been lit inside of the King of Media. He steps slowly towards the camera, each step landing like a thunderclap, each inch closer to the camera bringing his face, twisted into a look of sheer contempt, of rage directly into view.
Teo Blaze: I am not ice, queenie.
I am fire.
I am passion.
I do not need to remind anybody who I am.
My title, my power? It does not come from a goddamned nickname.
I am not a king because I call people “peasant” or put the same stupid picture of myself before every promo like it’s some kind of signature.
I am a king because each and every night I walk out to that ring, I leave my soul in the hands of that crowd.
I pour myself into every punch, every slam.
My opponents see me, and every one, every single person in that ring sees someone who is more focused on the people than himself.
Then I see it.
I see that look in their eyes.
That look they get when they look into my eyes.
You don’t realize it yet, Matthews, but you are in for the fight of your life.
If you gave a single fucking ounce of care for your own safety...you would be afraid of me.
Because unlike you, I don’t give a damn if anyone calls me king. It’s not about what others can do for me, it’s what I can do for them.
And right now, they’re calling me Kennedy.
They’re calling for me to wring your little royal neck and toss you out like yesterday’s news.
They know, I know...you know that you did not deserve to be the one who dethroned Kurt Navarro.
I bet when you won last week, when you had that fraudulent title placed on your shoulder, you considered it the greatest stroke of luck, the best turn of fortune you’ve ever had.
Teo holds out the sceptre in front of himself, his breathing has become much more intense as he’s spoken, and now the wood of the sceptre is straining under the King’s grasp.
Teo Blaze: I hate to be the one to inform you, but your victory last week? You’re going to look back on it as the worst night of your life. Because that was the night that you put yourself in my crosshairs.
The night that you walked into a fight that you are not! Ready for.
You will ask yourself, what if? What if Navarro’s leg hadn’t have snapped? What if I had actually faced him at one-hundred percent, and just like everyone in the world expected, been put down like a dog, knocked right on my royal ass?
Would that have changed things? Would that have stopped Teo? Would that have kept him from-
As Teo speaks, suddenly the sceptre, with a loud an audible CRACK, snaps in half. He pauses, looking at the thing as splinters fly in every direction, his breathing slowing, becoming less intense with every second…
And then he turns towards the camera. The fire is there, burning brightly behind his eyes, the lenses glowing in the darkened room like a pair of demon’s eyes.
He turns back towards the throne of Media, and tosses the broken thing aside. After a few moments of silence, his voice breaks through, echoing on the camera.
Teo Blaze: By now you should realize the answer, Matthews. This is WCF. This is the Television Championship.
This is about the throne.
When you play the game of thrones?
You either win….
Teo chuckles to himself as the camera slowly pans outward.
Teo Blaze: See you this weekend, Matthews. Make sure you bring my belt with you.
The camera slowly pans out of the throne room as the screen fades to black.
The scene opens for the viewer on a long stretch of highway, black asphalt along a long stretch of orange desert. A dry, arid scene that was decorated only by a few white and puffy clouds floating throughout an endless blanket of light blue.
And yet, for as barren as the road was, the sounds could not be called the same, for in the distance, the viewer can hear something. A low humming at first, slowly building up, rolling into something more audible, something loud. It builds, gradually, into something...fierce. Something angry….something hungry.
Like a lion’s roar.
After a few moments, the noise reaches its zenith, and in the distance, along the long stretch of highway, a red speck appears, growing closer….closer as the roar grows louder...and louder.
Then, all at once, at a practical blur, the viewer is greeted by a cherry red convertible, speeding along the road at a pace that defied any and all posted limits, blasting along the highway like a missile as the radio filled the air with the sound of rock and roll, fighting like a gladiator with the roar of the engine to be heard.
It was Teo Blaze, and he was in quite a mood.
Teo had thought about this moment for weeks, months even, going back past WAR...a chance to recapture that Television title, that golden treasure that so many had sought, had fought and bled for, that belt that had eluded him for years since it slipped through his grasp all those years ago.
As he roared along the empty highway, he let his eyes drift up to the skyline. He had always enjoyed the desert, but he had to admit there was something about the smell of the desert air whipping past his face, the sound of the sand echoing the roar of the music and the engine. He throws his head back happily, looking with a grin through the clear blue sky for that ball of fire that always greeted him on days like this.
His mind filled with a roar, the sound of a ringing bell, the cacophony of an exuberant crowd, the weight on his shoulder as the referee held his hand aloft and placed that beautiful, shining piece of gold over him.
The world was his, and quite frankly it was only a matter of time before the world realized it.
Teo’s smile could only be described as euphoric as his mind drifted to his match. Here he had been preparing for someone like Dune, like Kurt Navarro or Night Rider...a WCF Legend, a mainstay, an icon…
Someone with a bit of skill, a little talent or at the very least someone who had the decency to carry themselves like a champion.
But no, that was not his fate.
This week he was up against...Kennedy Mat-
Teo interrupted his own train of thought with a bout of uproarious laughter. He couldn’t help himself. To think that he was going up against that poor girl bandying about a ten-cent knockoff of a twenty-cent gimmick, well…
It made him laugh.
Teo was well aware of the downfall that came with ego, but he just couldn’t help himself. Every time he tried to picture Matthews holding up the Television championship, a title she won a virtual technicality...all he could see was a little girl holding up her father’s briefcase.
“Look at me, I’m a champion!”
It was adorable.
And as Teo sped down the highway, the grin grew bigger. He was not a man who came from a place of ego. His confidence was not based on a misguided notion of his own abilities, a zealous underestimation of his opponent.
This was the confidence of a man who realized that he was not speeding towards a challenge, or even a fight.
His match this week, the visions of victory that danced through his mind were not a possibility.
They were an eventuality.
And as the thought echoed in his mind, he continued speeding down the highway at breakneck speed, the sound of rock music blaring behind him, he couldn’t help but smile.
WCF and Must-See TV Present:
Game of Thrones:
A Song of Ice and Fire
But as light slowly penetrates the darkened room, it becomes intimately clear that as dark as the room is, it is not empty. Directly in the center of the room sits an object, an object that becomes more and more familiar as it comes slowly into focus.
It’s a large object, with jagged points seeming to stick out at it in a circular pattern. It looks almost metallic, and yet in the center there is a cushion, placed as though for someone to sit.
Finally, however, does the scene become clear. In the center of a large cavernous hall is a direct replica of the famous Iron Throne...with one major difference.
While the Iron throne was composed of the swords of enemies, surrendered to its construction, the iron throne in this room is made entirely out of Television Remote Controls and computer keyboards.
And fittingly, the man who is seated is not the lord of the seven kingdoms, but the one and only unchallenged King of All Media...Teo Blaze.
The King sits across the throne with a huge, ear, to ear smile, dangling his legs off one side, dressed in a white suit with a red tie and his now iconic glasses, a sceptre in one hand with a replica of his now-retired crown affixed to the top of it. He twirls it happily as he looks toward the camera.
Teo Blaze: Good evening, WCF, how have you been?
I’m here today to tell you a story. A story of two young warriors who got it in their head that they wanted to be royalty.
As Teo speaks, he stands up from the throne, twirling the sceptre still in his right hand as he gestures with his left.
Teo Blaze: The first warrior, well, she wasn’t exactly the brightest...she thought as long, and as hard as she possibly could, and she thought about all the things that a queen should have. So she looked up all the classic details. She started turning her nose up to people, started telling anyone who would listen not only who she was, but also how great she was. She called people “peasant” and started hurling insults at every single person who she came across. She put on fancy clothes, and expensive makeup, and she started giving speeches…
Teo rolls his eyes exaggeratedly at the word.
Teo Blaze: Long, LONG speeches that droned on and on about how great she was, how wonderful she was, that she was wrestling royalty, god’s gift to the giftless, a hundred pounds of solid gold in a five pound bodace.
She put her picture up at every chance, she wore the most expensive clothes, the most elaborate outfits, she made every single aspect of her life about proving to the world how great she was.
At this point Teo reaches into his pocket and removes a small device. He grins and hold it up to the camera, where it displays a post on his twitter feed.
Oct 1, 2018 21:51:10 GMT -5 @kmatt said:
I am wrestling royalty. Show some respect peasant. The world needs no reminder that I exist. I took 3 years off from wrestling and the world STILL knows me. I am going to show, once and for all, that WCF has a NEW face and it is the #QUEENTeo Blaze: Listen to the rhetoric going on here. “The world needs no reminder that I exist”
Methinks the lady doth protest too much.
“The World doesn’t need a reminder I exist” She says, quickly reminding the wrestling world that she exists.
Teo chuckles to himself.
Teo Blaze: This warrior is just like that throne back there, ironic to the core.
See, the thing about this warrior, for all of her bluster, was that her massive, throbbing ego, the very thing that supposedly drove her to strive for the heights of royalty was at once her biggest weakness.
Kennedy Matthews’s words are not the words of a person confident in her abilities, oh no, they’re the words of someone desperately trying to cover up for the fact that she is a scared little girl playing princess.
It’s smoke and mirrors belying a complete and utter lack of substance.
Every week she comes in with the exact same pose, the exact same image.
Kennedy Matthews on a blue background, trying her best to look demure and alluring, she wants us to see a glorious goddess, a queen!
I see repetition.
Staleness.
I.
See.
Boredom.
This poor warrior is trying so hard, so desperately to grab everyone’s attention, to hold our eyes.
But when you get down to it, what is she, really?
What does she have that hasn’t been done a hundred times better by countless WCF wrestlers throughout the years?
I know she does research, seeing as she loves to cut promos based on WCF’s history. You want to see ego backed by talent, Kennedy? Look up Kyle Kemp. Look up Jonny Fly. Look up Andre Holmes.
As Teo lists of the names, a flash of light seems to shine off his glasses, as though a vicious thought has just flashed across his mind. His demeanor remains confident, but something is different, he has changed from carefree to a more...determined look.
Teo Blaze: And while you’re at it, look up who took their titles away.
Teo inhales deeply as he slowly turns back towards the throne, his back now towards the camera.
Teo Blaze: We are very different types of Royalty, you and I, Kennedy Matthews.
Teo practically spits the words now, and as he speaks, one can see that his grip has tightened on his sceptre, his knuckles now beginning to grow white.
Teo Blaze: You? You’re ice. You’re cold….calculating. You shut out everyone who tries to approach you, desperately building yourself a deeper and deeper fortress, a harder and harder shell of frozen fear…
Fear that you’ll be exposed, fear that someone will walk along and knock you down a peg.
Keeping everyone in your life at arm’s length, freezing out anyone who could possibly expose you for what you are.
Anyone who could melt away that cold outer shell to get to the woman inside.
Look at how quickly you jumped at me to hold up your WAR elimination, an elimination that you stole from Navarro.
And who eliminated you again, your lowness?
Oh, that’s right, Jazzy John McCarthy. A name so Unrecognizable, a talent so meaningless, so forgettable, so bland that he didn’t even recognize himself on the WCF introduction.
Think about that. When I was eliminated from WAR, it became a huge story. People were talking for days about it. I became far and away one of the most memorable parts of that night, one of the most talked-about competitors in the entire match.
You?
You had to remind people that you got an elimination at all.
Teo grins, looking directly at the camera. Any pretext of playfulness is gone, his eyes are practically glowing, as though an open flame has been lit inside of the King of Media. He steps slowly towards the camera, each step landing like a thunderclap, each inch closer to the camera bringing his face, twisted into a look of sheer contempt, of rage directly into view.
Teo Blaze: I am not ice, queenie.
I am fire.
I am passion.
I do not need to remind anybody who I am.
My title, my power? It does not come from a goddamned nickname.
I am not a king because I call people “peasant” or put the same stupid picture of myself before every promo like it’s some kind of signature.
I am a king because each and every night I walk out to that ring, I leave my soul in the hands of that crowd.
I pour myself into every punch, every slam.
My opponents see me, and every one, every single person in that ring sees someone who is more focused on the people than himself.
Then I see it.
I see that look in their eyes.
That look they get when they look into my eyes.
You don’t realize it yet, Matthews, but you are in for the fight of your life.
If you gave a single fucking ounce of care for your own safety...you would be afraid of me.
Because unlike you, I don’t give a damn if anyone calls me king. It’s not about what others can do for me, it’s what I can do for them.
And right now, they’re calling me Kennedy.
They’re calling for me to wring your little royal neck and toss you out like yesterday’s news.
They know, I know...you know that you did not deserve to be the one who dethroned Kurt Navarro.
I bet when you won last week, when you had that fraudulent title placed on your shoulder, you considered it the greatest stroke of luck, the best turn of fortune you’ve ever had.
Teo holds out the sceptre in front of himself, his breathing has become much more intense as he’s spoken, and now the wood of the sceptre is straining under the King’s grasp.
Teo Blaze: I hate to be the one to inform you, but your victory last week? You’re going to look back on it as the worst night of your life. Because that was the night that you put yourself in my crosshairs.
The night that you walked into a fight that you are not! Ready for.
You will ask yourself, what if? What if Navarro’s leg hadn’t have snapped? What if I had actually faced him at one-hundred percent, and just like everyone in the world expected, been put down like a dog, knocked right on my royal ass?
Would that have changed things? Would that have stopped Teo? Would that have kept him from-
As Teo speaks, suddenly the sceptre, with a loud an audible CRACK, snaps in half. He pauses, looking at the thing as splinters fly in every direction, his breathing slowing, becoming less intense with every second…
And then he turns towards the camera. The fire is there, burning brightly behind his eyes, the lenses glowing in the darkened room like a pair of demon’s eyes.
He turns back towards the throne of Media, and tosses the broken thing aside. After a few moments of silence, his voice breaks through, echoing on the camera.
Teo Blaze: By now you should realize the answer, Matthews. This is WCF. This is the Television Championship.
This is about the throne.
When you play the game of thrones?
You either win….
Teo chuckles to himself as the camera slowly pans outward.
Teo Blaze: See you this weekend, Matthews. Make sure you bring my belt with you.
The camera slowly pans out of the throne room as the screen fades to black.
