Post by Dake Ken on Jul 25, 2009 22:06:56 GMT -5
(Pride and honor. Something you lack. Respect for the business we're in. Something you lack. Integrity, character, a back bone. All things you lack. To see someone with so much talent, so much potential come out and throw it all away is sickening. To see a young talent that has climbed the ranks so fast, only to spit on everyone who game him the chance, only to spit on the people who believed in him, only to disrespect all the greats that came before him, to disrespect all those that will come after him. It's disgusting. There are some who don't see it, and those are the blind. There are those who see it, and choose to do nothing about it, those are the cowards. In an ideal world, the scum that you are would look with in and change yourself. No need for outside influence, but alas, you are akin to the dirt on the ground and have proven yourself to weak to possibly rebuild yourself. Your agility is almost unmatched, your physical ability will never be questioned. But it's not all that. It's not all one dimensional. You stand for something, you represent all of us. You're desire to ignore the rules and cut corners reflects on all of us. It can not continue.)
*Dake is walking down a long, elegant hallway. Wooden floors at the foot of tall white walls. The white walls with wooden accents climbing up from the floor. Paintings hang on the wall, but are not completely visible from the angle the camera is at, but extravagant colors are visible. A pair of large chandeliers hang from the arched ceiling. Their crystals catching the light coming in from a few windows on wall, dancing in a newly formed colorful spectrum on the wall. Dake is walking down the hall, and is dressed up a bit more than normal. He is wearing a black suit, with a white undershirt and a red tie. He is wearing black slacks and black dress shoes as well. His WCF Championship belt is resting on his right shoulder. Dake is walking in a perfect rhythm, each step echoing off the wall in perfect intervals. Dake continues to walk toward the camera until he is just a few feet away from it. He stops and turns to look out a window.*
Dake: I hold a certain set of ideals. They are my own. However, many people share those same values. There are some that don't, which is fine. Everyone lives their own life, and everyone does things their own way. I chose to strive for excellence in the world of professional wrestling. That is the path I have walked down, I have not walked it alone, as there have been many before me, and there will be many after me. There are some that strive for excellence in the world of business. That is the path they have walked, and like myself there were people there before and there will be others after they are gone. We all choose different paths to walk in life, but it is how we walk those paths that defines who we are. In this world the key word is respect. Respect for those before you, and the respect for one's self to represent a future generation.
*Dake turns and walks down the hall and turns out of the camera's view. As he turns the corner the camera cuts, following him. He continues down another elegant hall, similar but much smaller. The end of the hall way opens up into a large living area. The living area is filled with old furniture, from a long time ago. The age is very visible on the items that adorn the lavishly decorated living space. A large fireplace is the focal point of the room with gold accents. It is obvious though there has not been a fire in the fireplace for a long time.*
Dake: I pride myself on honoring this business. In everything I do and have ever done in this giant competition, I have done it with respect. Something that "son of the south" seems to lack. I can accept people not thinking the way I do. I'm a perfectionist by nature and the precision I live my life with is not something that is for everyone. However, a lack of respect is an entirely different thing. Johnny, you, who has so much talent. You, who are one of the best athlete's in the WCF right now. You disrespect every person who has ever stepped in to a ring. I always thought that you were just going through a phase, I always thought you would grow up and shake come to your senses. I now see, that I was wrong. I can no longer look at you seriously. You are a stain on this business. I've called you a coward in the past, I've called you a waste of talent, but you are past that. You are simply scum Reb.
*Dake walks through the room he is in and opens the front door. Outside an amazing courtyard awaits. Everything is either a bright green or a vibrant shade of red or blue. An amazing fountain is the center point of the courtyard. Water falls simply, elegantly in a waterfall type effect from the fountain, creating a sheet of water that is translucent. Behind the sheet of water bring yellow shines from the gold accents. The sky is blue with no clouds in sight. Dake turns around and looks back on the house. It is an old plantation home, restored back to the beauty it once was. The house almost has a personality. It seems to be standing up tall, proud. However there is a dark side as well, because on the opposite side, in the back yard there are the slave quarters. The dark side. Dake sticks a finger in the water and the translucent sheet stops under his finger.*
Dake: It's funny how much you embody this place. You are so quick to stand up, head held high, and defend yourself and your tactics. However, we all know the truth. You are garbage that isn't worth anyone's time. Just like where I am now. You have the dignified southern plantation owner. Pure gentleman. A gentleman who has no respect for a human life. It might be a drastic reach to compare slavery to professional wrestling, but it's the idea you have to grasp. You try to put up this facade of being a true wrestler. Someone who is deserving of a number one contender spot. However, we all know you are not. We all see right through you. The next bright star in the WCF. A future hall of famer. That was what everyone, including myself, thought when you were climbing your way to the top. However, it's all clear now. You have no respect for this business. You cut corners. You cheat. You disrespect every one who has worked so hard to make the WCF what it is today. It was five years ago when I inked a deal with the WCF and when I walked through the doors I made it my goal to build this place into an iconic promotion. Here we are now, and everything that I've help build is now going to be spat on by some new comer. I can't let that happen.
*Dake looks up at the sky.*
Dake: You will not spit in my face. You will not disrespect me. I am the WCF Champion, and I don't plan on dropping this belt anytime soon. You have disgraced this place enough as it is, and I can't possibly allow you to take this title and run this place into the ground. Being a champion makes you a marked man, and I have a lot to worry about. There are those out there that want to call me a "paper champion." There are those out there who are willing to attack me at any point in time. However, I am not concerning myself with anything but you at the moment Reb. On Sunday there will be you and I in the ring, battling for my title. No rules for you to break. No rules for me to abide by. And after I beat respect into you, I will climb that ladder, and I will take my belt.
*Dake looks into the camera and smirks. The arrogance and confidence obvious by his expression. He walks off and the scene fades out.*
*Dake is walking down a long, elegant hallway. Wooden floors at the foot of tall white walls. The white walls with wooden accents climbing up from the floor. Paintings hang on the wall, but are not completely visible from the angle the camera is at, but extravagant colors are visible. A pair of large chandeliers hang from the arched ceiling. Their crystals catching the light coming in from a few windows on wall, dancing in a newly formed colorful spectrum on the wall. Dake is walking down the hall, and is dressed up a bit more than normal. He is wearing a black suit, with a white undershirt and a red tie. He is wearing black slacks and black dress shoes as well. His WCF Championship belt is resting on his right shoulder. Dake is walking in a perfect rhythm, each step echoing off the wall in perfect intervals. Dake continues to walk toward the camera until he is just a few feet away from it. He stops and turns to look out a window.*
Dake: I hold a certain set of ideals. They are my own. However, many people share those same values. There are some that don't, which is fine. Everyone lives their own life, and everyone does things their own way. I chose to strive for excellence in the world of professional wrestling. That is the path I have walked down, I have not walked it alone, as there have been many before me, and there will be many after me. There are some that strive for excellence in the world of business. That is the path they have walked, and like myself there were people there before and there will be others after they are gone. We all choose different paths to walk in life, but it is how we walk those paths that defines who we are. In this world the key word is respect. Respect for those before you, and the respect for one's self to represent a future generation.
*Dake turns and walks down the hall and turns out of the camera's view. As he turns the corner the camera cuts, following him. He continues down another elegant hall, similar but much smaller. The end of the hall way opens up into a large living area. The living area is filled with old furniture, from a long time ago. The age is very visible on the items that adorn the lavishly decorated living space. A large fireplace is the focal point of the room with gold accents. It is obvious though there has not been a fire in the fireplace for a long time.*
Dake: I pride myself on honoring this business. In everything I do and have ever done in this giant competition, I have done it with respect. Something that "son of the south" seems to lack. I can accept people not thinking the way I do. I'm a perfectionist by nature and the precision I live my life with is not something that is for everyone. However, a lack of respect is an entirely different thing. Johnny, you, who has so much talent. You, who are one of the best athlete's in the WCF right now. You disrespect every person who has ever stepped in to a ring. I always thought that you were just going through a phase, I always thought you would grow up and shake come to your senses. I now see, that I was wrong. I can no longer look at you seriously. You are a stain on this business. I've called you a coward in the past, I've called you a waste of talent, but you are past that. You are simply scum Reb.
*Dake walks through the room he is in and opens the front door. Outside an amazing courtyard awaits. Everything is either a bright green or a vibrant shade of red or blue. An amazing fountain is the center point of the courtyard. Water falls simply, elegantly in a waterfall type effect from the fountain, creating a sheet of water that is translucent. Behind the sheet of water bring yellow shines from the gold accents. The sky is blue with no clouds in sight. Dake turns around and looks back on the house. It is an old plantation home, restored back to the beauty it once was. The house almost has a personality. It seems to be standing up tall, proud. However there is a dark side as well, because on the opposite side, in the back yard there are the slave quarters. The dark side. Dake sticks a finger in the water and the translucent sheet stops under his finger.*
Dake: It's funny how much you embody this place. You are so quick to stand up, head held high, and defend yourself and your tactics. However, we all know the truth. You are garbage that isn't worth anyone's time. Just like where I am now. You have the dignified southern plantation owner. Pure gentleman. A gentleman who has no respect for a human life. It might be a drastic reach to compare slavery to professional wrestling, but it's the idea you have to grasp. You try to put up this facade of being a true wrestler. Someone who is deserving of a number one contender spot. However, we all know you are not. We all see right through you. The next bright star in the WCF. A future hall of famer. That was what everyone, including myself, thought when you were climbing your way to the top. However, it's all clear now. You have no respect for this business. You cut corners. You cheat. You disrespect every one who has worked so hard to make the WCF what it is today. It was five years ago when I inked a deal with the WCF and when I walked through the doors I made it my goal to build this place into an iconic promotion. Here we are now, and everything that I've help build is now going to be spat on by some new comer. I can't let that happen.
*Dake looks up at the sky.*
Dake: You will not spit in my face. You will not disrespect me. I am the WCF Champion, and I don't plan on dropping this belt anytime soon. You have disgraced this place enough as it is, and I can't possibly allow you to take this title and run this place into the ground. Being a champion makes you a marked man, and I have a lot to worry about. There are those out there that want to call me a "paper champion." There are those out there who are willing to attack me at any point in time. However, I am not concerning myself with anything but you at the moment Reb. On Sunday there will be you and I in the ring, battling for my title. No rules for you to break. No rules for me to abide by. And after I beat respect into you, I will climb that ladder, and I will take my belt.
*Dake looks into the camera and smirks. The arrogance and confidence obvious by his expression. He walks off and the scene fades out.*
