Post by Dake Ken on Jun 26, 2009 22:33:50 GMT -5
To Torture:
"BUY, BUY, BUY!"
*Voices are coming from every different direction as a flood of noise overtakes the floor of the New York Stock Exchange. People, paper, noise, cheap blazers, executives, confusion, fear, confidence, text message alerts, ring tones. It's all there, just like any picture you've ever seen. It's the American version of a Japanese fish market. It's the early morning controlled chaos that leave some rich, and some in ruins.*
"SELL, SELL, SELL!"
*A group of people rush from one station to the next, some stopping to consult with one another. A small group stop in all the commotion and look up at the ticker on the wall, with it's large green and red LED letters and numbers scrolling. They seem to be almost frozen by the giant ticker, looking to it as a god. That is until they've seen what the have wanted to see. As soon as their brains have had enough time to process the information they were looking for, they being to move again. Quickly, almost as if they had never stopped. There are many people who stand on the perimeter of the floor, outlining the chaos, on their phones. Some are clam and talk with no worry or waver in their voice, confidence. There are some screaming into their phones, faces red, eyes bulging, furious. Then there are the ones on the phones with shaky voices, scared, paranoid.
The majority of the population on the floor is male. Many business men, some dressed in tacky blazers, some dressed in fine suits. A few women can be seen here and there, but there is a much higher ratio of men. Brokers with three different phones, all being used at the same time, talking to three different clients, about three different trades, in three different countries. C'est la vi, as the French would say. This is there job, making money for their client. As more bodies rush back and more paper fills the air and hits the floor, the noise on the floor beings to grow. It seems like suddenly there is a huge amount of commotion and movement all around. More people on phones, yelling. It seems as though total chaos has broken out.
A voice yells out, in a very northern accent.*
Man: We only got like 15 minutes!
*As multicolored suits and blazers all mesh into one giant hue, one figure stands still. On the floor of the New York Stock Exchange is Dake Ken. Standing, not in the action so to speak, but not at the edge either. He is dressed in slightly less professional attire, however he is still very formal about the event. Black dress attire for the most part, but Dake is also wearing a vibrant red dress shirt. The shirt almost seems out of place, but at the same time is very captivating. A very Tiger Woods kind of a statement. Aggression. Victory.
Dake's beard has been trimmed down very short and very precise, outlining his jaw, and making the look of a very rigid jaw line. His eyes are focused on the action the floor. Almost studying people. Darting from one person to the next, as he quietly stands, arms crossed on his chest. After a moment he looks at his watch for a moment and goes back to his observation.*
(Crunch time. Who can perform, who will fail. It is all found out in this time. Even a great day can be ruined in just moments, seconds, an instant. That's why it is so important to step it up at the end. Moments before the closing bell rings. Pushing the final deal through. Beating the clock so to speak. It's like a sport almost. The great ones are the ones who perform in the clinch. Even if their backs are up against a wall and there has been nothing going right for them the entire time, during that last moment they shine. It's almost like a baseball thing. The only inning that really matters, is the bottom of the 9th. Because that's where the winners and the losers are sorted out and separated and that's where the great teams come out on top and the bad teams fall to defeat.
Who can perform? Who is going to step it up? That's what Dake is watching for. Yes. Watching. Studying. Making notes of the brokers who run back and forth. Observing and carefully planning his moves. Dake is out to assemble a team. A team of the best to ... further him on a financial level. Bring him to the next level so to speak.
And just like he does for an opponent in a match, he is studying the talent. Although there are a lot of differences in the world of wrestling and the world of business, Dake is applying logic from one world to the other. Researching, and coming up with the most logical and best choice. Always breaking down, always looking for any bit of information that can attribute him in his goals in some way, shape, or form. Always calculating, making sure he knows his next move, and hopefully, the move after that. Setting up escape plans and back up plans. Leaving no stone unturned. The same logic that has advanced him so far in the world of the squared circle, he has decided to use that same logic for the world of Wall Street.)
3:55PM
*All hell has broken loose on the floor and the chaos is going to last five more minutes. Five more minutes of running, screaming. It is a miracle that these people don't just drop everything they're doing and fight over. Just pure fisticuffs. It almost seems like that is what it is going to come down too. However things seem to wind down, and as the time continues the horror that was the floor is now just an after thought and the aftermath of the day's negotiations can been seen.*
4:00PM CLOSING BELL
*There seems to be enough paper on the ground to account for one full tree. Along with garbage and drinks, a cell phone or two, and ... the remains of some poor crushed phones. A few eye glasses are seen on the floor and a couple are picked up as the giant mass of men and women make there way out of the New York Stock Exchange and return to their homes. As the people make their way out, Dake makes his way to the middle of the floor. As he arrives at his destination he looks on the floor and picks up a piece of paper. He looks over it and lets it fall back on the ground. He looks into the camera, smirking, a devilish grin.*
Dake: The bad guy.
*Dake waves his fingers at the camera in a Scott Hall fashion.*
Dake: The famous guy. The executive. The Champion. You're smarter than everyone else and you're cooler than everyone else. You're better than everyone else and you have more money than anyone else. You sir. Are the tyrant. Torture, the tyrant. I'm sure you like the sound of that. You shouldn't coin that phrase just yet though. Because every villain has his downfall. This might not be a movie Torture, but I am your foil. I have plans for you Torture, and oh ... trust me ... they are great. I plan on taking you down from your perch a top the world Torture. I'm sure you enjoy your throne now. I'm sure you enjoy being the tyrannical ego maniac you are. I'm sure you love defeating all the "main event" level talent that the WCF has thrown at you ... which is oddly enough some of the same "mid card" talent that I've beat to earn my shot at you. I'm sure you love sending our young fans home in tears when you beat their heroes. I'm sure you just get off on that. However that is all going to come to an end. I have plans Torture. For the future. Something that I, usually, don't talk about much.
You see Torture, Blast is only the start. I will go in there and I will take your Championship. I will humiliate you in front of the wrestling world. I will prove that you, yes you, are actually the "mid card" talent. I will prove that you should have never been on top in the first place. I will go into Blast and embarrass you Torture ... but that's not all. Even after we're done in the ring, I still plan on haunting you. The blueprint is drawn and the foundation is being laid. No one plans like me Torture, no one. I plan on taking everything from you in the end, and leaving you with out a shred of dignity. So, don't sit there and give us a history lesson, which I will have more to say on in a moment, but don't sit there and give us a history lesson when you should be focused on the future. You should be focused on finding a way to keep your Championship. You should be focused me. You should be focused on what I'm going to do to you, and you should be focused on how to stop it.
However you give us a very interesting view on the past. You slightly mention the fact that you were basically target practice for The Elite ... in fact ... I ... I don't recall you even mentioning that name. I mean, I can understand if you're scared too. In fact ... I think I actually understand it. You are so far from an Elite part of the wrestling world that you dare mention the term, in fear that you will immediately get you ripped apart by X-Rated, Trent Hunter, or myself, but ... to continue on past this. You basically drift over that entire part of history. That part of WCF history where we dominated this promotion, I'm ... I'm sure you couldn't' have forgotten ... we did hold every piece of gold that the WCF had to offer. I mean ... I'm sure you remember ... but again ... to continue past the fact that you side stepped past a huge part of history only summing it up as you "getting beat up by bullies." ...
*Dake pauses and smiles. He makes a sad face and wipes an imaginary tear from his cheek.*
Dake: Heh. However, we're going to look past that too! Let's not focus on that. That bit of the past "doesn't matter." ... right. Anyways, you then go on and bring up The Dynasty. The faction that you put together. The faction you convinced me to join, even though I wasn't 100 percent. You made me think that I wouldn't be this cornerstone. You made me think I wasn't going to be the enforcer. You made me think that it wouldn't all come falling down on me. However, after you conned me, that's right ... conned me ... into joining, and putting me through many matches and attacks, you turn on me. And even though you can get Carson Daily to cower and admit this, you won't be able to get me to say we turned on you. Torture, you turned on the Dynasty and you went in and beat me in a match where I wasn't even at any level to wrestle Gayfather, let alone yourself.
So if you want to take that victory and feel good about it, by all means, go for it. However, just like you just overlook and ignore The Elite beating you on a normal basis, I'll look past this, and then there is only one place for us to both look. It's the future, and it starts at Blast, Torture. It starts with the ring bell going "ding ding ding" at the start of the match. It progresses with me winning the WCF Championship and the closing bell of the match. "Ding ding ding."
*Dake once again smirks and beings to walk off. A few steps from leaving the floor he turns his head.*
Dake: And that's not the last bell I would be worried about.
