Post by Corey Black on Aug 27, 2006 4:28:31 GMT -5
The scene opens up to the WCF Arena, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The lights are shut off, but even still, it's not hard to make out the seats and ring area. Inside the ring, a shadowy figure stands before a big box. A lone spotlight hits the ring, revealing Creeping Death looking over the same white coffin he dug up in the cemetery close to the bell tower. WCF Hardcore Title laying on top of it. The camera comes right up to Creeping Death as he kneels down to the coffin.
Creeping Death: Since day one of the newbie injection, I've been against it. Not only because, well, they waste space most of the time, but the ones that stick around make no sense. Ever. I wish I knew what it was like to follow Logan around and do his bidding. Go shopping with your WCF TV time. Take part in a wedding between a man and a lawn mower. Or even hang around and cause problems in the ring and outside it. I cannot count how many times I've been pushed to the edge with this newbie thing. Week in and week out it's the same crap. 'You're just a pissed off legend, veteran, wah wah wah.' I don't think so. Sorry to burst your bubble. They all want to step up and take a shot at Torture, when obviously, he's a little tied up at the moment with Logan and the rest of the Team of Treachery. This is exactly what I mean. People come and join a company they know nothing about. It's the eqivelent of taking a job at JC Pennys and not knowing how to fold clothes.
One thing stands out about Jack of Blades. It's like he doesn't have his head in the game. He spends all his time ordering people to go find DVDs, focusing on Ellis' departure from this natural life, going to church, and watching the opera ... ?! In all seriousness and utter disgust, dude, what the fuck? Not only are you generally wasting WCF money and time, but you're pissing off the wrong people. Lucky that chick didn't hit a massive Bonzai Drop on you while you fucked up her performance.
Regardless of my thoughts, the thought on everyone else's mind is 'Why?'. Why would you go to the opera and ruin the show for hundreds ... nay ... thousands of people? Just to prove you can? And to think, you actually have in your posession a contract, binding you to this company. You, along with all the rest of your little troupe, have no business in or around wrestling.
Like I said before Jack, The New Dynasty built this stage you perform on. We built it in regards to competition, friendship, and settling a score. Not to make a mockery of the plate you have been granted. Even Logan had a hand in this place, albeit a slight one as he was constantly being fired, yet still rehired by Seth Lerch.
Creeping Death picks up his WCF Hardcore Title from the top of the casket. CD almost cradles the title, holding it with both hands close to him, while looking directly at it.
Creeping Death: Jack, I know your end of this story has nothing to do with this title, but by all means, it's one of the more important pieces of the puzzle. I have fought for years to get this. Literally. My body has been through hell and back, then back to hell again. Countless encounters with barbed wire, thumbtacks, ladders, and lighttubes. All for a leather strap with gold attached. But this leather strap signifies that I, Creeping Death, have overcome every obsticle thrown in my way, and I AM the most hardcore and physically insane person WCF has ever seen.
Not only have I been the center of confusion with this belt, but through all that, I have raised it to a level not seen before. Every defense I have made, I have proven this title to be superior to the Television Title in every way. After Torture's eight month reign with this title, it went into limbo. Champions didn't defend it for months on end, the competition level was abysmal, and it was basically the first step in gaining recognition in this company. Now look at it. The level of competition is through the roof, I'm to defend it during every singles match I have, and it's now the sucessor to the WCF World Title. In due time, the Hardcore Title will be THE title in WCF. And it's all because of me.
Creeping Death places his hand on the railing of the casket, lifting the top half and opening it. Sure enough, inside rests Ellis. CD places his hand on her cheek.
Creeping Death: The theatre of the ludicriously tragic, he says. If anything, he brought said theatre upon you, sweet Ellis. He was to turn your tragety into his comedy. Jack of Blades, a man that took great pride in completly ruining an already ruined young woman. I don't care what anyone says Ellis, you were a misguided soul looking for release. I can relate to that. My release is wrestling. Yours was cutting. A nasty demon, only worsened by Jack. A demon, however, overcome by death. In that sense of the word, death is your savior. Death is your savior, Ellis. You are welcome.
With that, the camera zooms in on Ellis' cold face. Her pale skin showing no signs of decompisition. Then, her purple eyes open. A deathly stare into the camera. Blood trickles out from her eye sockets. And with the next sentence, undoubtibly sends chills down everyone who is watching's spine.
Ellis: Jack of Blades ... the bell tolls ... for you.
Fade to black.
Creeping Death: Since day one of the newbie injection, I've been against it. Not only because, well, they waste space most of the time, but the ones that stick around make no sense. Ever. I wish I knew what it was like to follow Logan around and do his bidding. Go shopping with your WCF TV time. Take part in a wedding between a man and a lawn mower. Or even hang around and cause problems in the ring and outside it. I cannot count how many times I've been pushed to the edge with this newbie thing. Week in and week out it's the same crap. 'You're just a pissed off legend, veteran, wah wah wah.' I don't think so. Sorry to burst your bubble. They all want to step up and take a shot at Torture, when obviously, he's a little tied up at the moment with Logan and the rest of the Team of Treachery. This is exactly what I mean. People come and join a company they know nothing about. It's the eqivelent of taking a job at JC Pennys and not knowing how to fold clothes.
One thing stands out about Jack of Blades. It's like he doesn't have his head in the game. He spends all his time ordering people to go find DVDs, focusing on Ellis' departure from this natural life, going to church, and watching the opera ... ?! In all seriousness and utter disgust, dude, what the fuck? Not only are you generally wasting WCF money and time, but you're pissing off the wrong people. Lucky that chick didn't hit a massive Bonzai Drop on you while you fucked up her performance.
Regardless of my thoughts, the thought on everyone else's mind is 'Why?'. Why would you go to the opera and ruin the show for hundreds ... nay ... thousands of people? Just to prove you can? And to think, you actually have in your posession a contract, binding you to this company. You, along with all the rest of your little troupe, have no business in or around wrestling.
Like I said before Jack, The New Dynasty built this stage you perform on. We built it in regards to competition, friendship, and settling a score. Not to make a mockery of the plate you have been granted. Even Logan had a hand in this place, albeit a slight one as he was constantly being fired, yet still rehired by Seth Lerch.
Creeping Death picks up his WCF Hardcore Title from the top of the casket. CD almost cradles the title, holding it with both hands close to him, while looking directly at it.
Creeping Death: Jack, I know your end of this story has nothing to do with this title, but by all means, it's one of the more important pieces of the puzzle. I have fought for years to get this. Literally. My body has been through hell and back, then back to hell again. Countless encounters with barbed wire, thumbtacks, ladders, and lighttubes. All for a leather strap with gold attached. But this leather strap signifies that I, Creeping Death, have overcome every obsticle thrown in my way, and I AM the most hardcore and physically insane person WCF has ever seen.
Not only have I been the center of confusion with this belt, but through all that, I have raised it to a level not seen before. Every defense I have made, I have proven this title to be superior to the Television Title in every way. After Torture's eight month reign with this title, it went into limbo. Champions didn't defend it for months on end, the competition level was abysmal, and it was basically the first step in gaining recognition in this company. Now look at it. The level of competition is through the roof, I'm to defend it during every singles match I have, and it's now the sucessor to the WCF World Title. In due time, the Hardcore Title will be THE title in WCF. And it's all because of me.
Creeping Death places his hand on the railing of the casket, lifting the top half and opening it. Sure enough, inside rests Ellis. CD places his hand on her cheek.
Creeping Death: The theatre of the ludicriously tragic, he says. If anything, he brought said theatre upon you, sweet Ellis. He was to turn your tragety into his comedy. Jack of Blades, a man that took great pride in completly ruining an already ruined young woman. I don't care what anyone says Ellis, you were a misguided soul looking for release. I can relate to that. My release is wrestling. Yours was cutting. A nasty demon, only worsened by Jack. A demon, however, overcome by death. In that sense of the word, death is your savior. Death is your savior, Ellis. You are welcome.
With that, the camera zooms in on Ellis' cold face. Her pale skin showing no signs of decompisition. Then, her purple eyes open. A deathly stare into the camera. Blood trickles out from her eye sockets. And with the next sentence, undoubtibly sends chills down everyone who is watching's spine.
Ellis: Jack of Blades ... the bell tolls ... for you.
Fade to black.
