Post by Corey Black on Aug 24, 2006 15:11:51 GMT -5
Our scene opens up to the most familiar sight in WCF history outside the WCF Arena ... the bell tower. A nice shiny day, birdies are chirping, little squirrels run around, the typical summer-going-into-fall day. However, the normal storm clouds are not rolling in. Instead, a clump of dirt flies in front of the camera lens. A ting noise later, more dirt flies across the screen. The camera pans behind itself, to a place only seen once, and not shown by Creeping Death. In front of the bell tower and behind the camera, this entire time, was a graveyard. Fenced in the entire way around, with big gates directly across from the bell tower.
Inside the graveyard, hard at work shoveling into the ground is Creeping Death. He's got a hole pretty deep into the ground already. With every shovel-full, CD lets out a menacing grunt, as if he has something very ... very evil on his mind.
Creeping Death: All I've heard lately. Hardcore title defenses this, hardcore that, Team of Treachery this, New Dynasty sucks that, blah blah blah. It's getting old and redundant. Dake Ken and I laid it all out on the line on Slam the week before last, and not a single person has stepped up and taken action. Sure, we got attacked with chairs, but that's physical warfare. That's the hatred shared among us. Logan not having the balls to step up and admit his wrongdoing, while simply ignoring the fact is proof positive who is calling the shots around here.
Creeping Death continues shoveling dirt out of this hole in the cemetery. CD is just launching the dirt across the graveyard now.
Creeping Death: Speaking of ignoring, what happened to Steve Carr and his willingness to strip me of my Hardcore Title because of a rib I pulled on the entire roster? You want to bring the backstage happenings to the forefront, and when I retaliate, hide behind your desk? Yeah, that's the kind of person I want handling the decision making process of opponents for my matches. I've said it before, it was a joke. A rib. My friends understood it. I don't care if it messed up Logan's plans, Seth Lerch's plans, or President George W. Bush's plans. Nobody can stop me from joking with my friends. Who is going to step up and say they're tired of my antics? You? That's it, chief. Maybe you'd have been smarter to restart NCW where you'd actually have come control in what happens. The New Dynasty is running this place, Steve. Hardcore Champion. Television Champion. And World Champion. You cannot deny the fact.
Finally, Creeping Death hits a solid object in the ground. CD bends down and brushes off the dirt, revealing a coffin. Off to the side, CD grabs a chain and wraps it around the railing attached to the coffin itself. With one pull of a lever, the chain rises, bringing the coffin up and onto the ground. The coffin is white with gold trim. CD unwraps the chain and opens the coffin up. The camera, however, is behind the lid.
Creeping Death: So, Jack of Blades' entire problem with me is because I took out Ellis a few months ago, and he didn't? If anything, Jack should be thanking me for eliminating Ellis. I know it takes the fun out of it, but I did him and the rest of WCF a favor. Ellis was nothing more than an emo bitch that didn't make any sense whatsoever. All she did was piss people off and cut herself. By taking Ellis' WCF career and life, I ended what could have possibly been the worst thing shown on television. An anorexic anime whore that cut herself to get off. Shit like that should be on MTV where it belongs. Fact is, Jack, you took too long.
Speaking of wasting TV time, I'll never understand why Jack keeps getting time to ramble on about nothing and send people to get DVDs. This is what WCF invests its money into? Pointless segments following him around as he runs errands? Next week, we'll watch him do his laundry or go to the bank. I'm not interested in the stores you shop in, what bank you go to, where you take a dump, or anything Jack. I want you to come straightforward, explain your actions against me and the rest of the New Dynasty, and stop wasting everyone's time. I'm so sick of you and the ToT with their simply ridiculous attitudes. A lawn mower and blow up doll as girlfriends ... and even wives? I can see why you chose to align with them, Jack, they waste everyones time as well as you do.
I'm glad you finally sat down for an ... interview of sorts, though, Jack. It was rather enlightening. You just confirmed what everyone knew. Even when you do say something, it's not worth the time. I once saw a television show that said people sprinkle big words throughout their speech to sound smart and overpowering, almost an intimidation tactic. To me, it's just mumble time. Now before you go off on 'oh Creeping Death, you don't like me using my extended vocabulary because your cranium is too small to house a brain sufficient enough to comprehend my crap', know this. I understand everything loud and clear. Regardless of your previous thoughts, not only am I the craziest motherfucker in WCF history, I'm probably one of the smartest as well. Not everyone knows that, though. My obvious show of laziness and unwillingness to care about, well, most everything overshadows my vast brilliance.
However, it's time for a history lesson, once again, Mr. of Blades.
Creeping Death pauses. Thinks. He then nods.
Creeping Death: Yeah, that's right. Whatever. I'm pretty sick of explaining this to every newbie that I come across. The name 'Creeping Death' only IMPLIES slow, methodical and precise devastation. In reality, it's the opposite. 'Creeping Death' is the given name of the Angel of Death, the plague that ravaged the Egyptians of their first born male child. The name was given by Metallica, in their song of the same exact name, of which I was then named after.
Where do you get off calling us 'veterans'? Seems like every opponent I fight thinks I'm as old as Logan. Wrong. Jack, I am twenty two years old. I have been with WCF for three years. That, my friend, is no veteran. We don't even consider ourselves anything of the kind. We consider ourselves main eventers. The forefathers of WCF. We built this place, basically, from the ground up. We laid the groundwork you now step on. Guys like Hulk Hogan are veterans. Been around years and years and years. Three years does not constitute a label such as that. Seems like you're in the lot like the rest of those newbies I took out. Their mouths ran before their minds took action.
Creeping Death motions to the camera to come beside him and look inside the coffin. Laying in there is Ellis. She looks the same pale white as she did when she wrestled, even after rotting in the coffin for months. Arms all stitched up from cutting herself, purple eyes closed in peace. Creeping Death bends down and looks into Ellis' face.
Creeping Death: You're the reason Jack is pissed. It's you. I took you from him when he was playing his games with you. He took every measure to ensure your life was a living hell, causing you to go further and further over the edge, so he himself could break you into a million pieces. But I stepped in. I took what he had created and made it my victory. A victory I hold dear to my heart. Your pain was evident, Ellis. Those cuts on your arm and head show the pain. I relieved you of it. Jack of Blades was attempting psychological murder. A tactic he's not exactly known for nowadays. Only when he explains himself instead of using television time to walk his dog. My attack on you was, in fact, a cry out. I was undeservedly being overlooked in favor of these new guys that, obviously, know nothing of the company they join up with. Not only that, but JoJo had the title I've had my eye on for years. I'm sorry Ellis. I'm sorry.
So young. I'm so sorry I had to take your career. I'm so sorry I had to take your friends Hardcore title. I'm so sorry I took your life. It was for the better. You're now in a better place. No more mental assassination. No more cutting. No more mime shows. Nothing. Heh. It's funny. You look so pretty right now. Even prettier than I remember. Gosh.
Creeping Death sits down next to the coffin and begins stroking Ellis' hair.
Creeping Death: To think, it really is all your fault. Little ol' you. I can't get past it. You were crazy, and you made no sense, and you really pissed me off ... but I've dealt with crazy bitches before. I like it.
CD kisses Ellis' lips lightly.
Creeping Death: Why did I never do that while you were alive? Was that Jack's problem with you? He wanted your touch in some sick way? Well he'll never get the chance. You were mine months ago, and you're mine now. Everything is going to be alright.
CD strokes Ellis' face now, lightly touching her cheek.
Creeping Death: I'll get Jack of Blades at Ultimate Showdown. When I get through with him, WCF management will have enough brutality to make a hardcore wrestling DVD just from the match, and even send it to Jack while he's in the hospital. Maybe then he'll be ready for what's coming to him. In the mean time, Ellis, I think we should show him a lesson. Never ... fuck with Creeping Death.
CD climbs on top of Ellis, and takes his shirt off. CD then throws it at the camera, and the scene never goes back. We have gone to commercial.
Inside the graveyard, hard at work shoveling into the ground is Creeping Death. He's got a hole pretty deep into the ground already. With every shovel-full, CD lets out a menacing grunt, as if he has something very ... very evil on his mind.
Creeping Death: All I've heard lately. Hardcore title defenses this, hardcore that, Team of Treachery this, New Dynasty sucks that, blah blah blah. It's getting old and redundant. Dake Ken and I laid it all out on the line on Slam the week before last, and not a single person has stepped up and taken action. Sure, we got attacked with chairs, but that's physical warfare. That's the hatred shared among us. Logan not having the balls to step up and admit his wrongdoing, while simply ignoring the fact is proof positive who is calling the shots around here.
Creeping Death continues shoveling dirt out of this hole in the cemetery. CD is just launching the dirt across the graveyard now.
Creeping Death: Speaking of ignoring, what happened to Steve Carr and his willingness to strip me of my Hardcore Title because of a rib I pulled on the entire roster? You want to bring the backstage happenings to the forefront, and when I retaliate, hide behind your desk? Yeah, that's the kind of person I want handling the decision making process of opponents for my matches. I've said it before, it was a joke. A rib. My friends understood it. I don't care if it messed up Logan's plans, Seth Lerch's plans, or President George W. Bush's plans. Nobody can stop me from joking with my friends. Who is going to step up and say they're tired of my antics? You? That's it, chief. Maybe you'd have been smarter to restart NCW where you'd actually have come control in what happens. The New Dynasty is running this place, Steve. Hardcore Champion. Television Champion. And World Champion. You cannot deny the fact.
Finally, Creeping Death hits a solid object in the ground. CD bends down and brushes off the dirt, revealing a coffin. Off to the side, CD grabs a chain and wraps it around the railing attached to the coffin itself. With one pull of a lever, the chain rises, bringing the coffin up and onto the ground. The coffin is white with gold trim. CD unwraps the chain and opens the coffin up. The camera, however, is behind the lid.
Creeping Death: So, Jack of Blades' entire problem with me is because I took out Ellis a few months ago, and he didn't? If anything, Jack should be thanking me for eliminating Ellis. I know it takes the fun out of it, but I did him and the rest of WCF a favor. Ellis was nothing more than an emo bitch that didn't make any sense whatsoever. All she did was piss people off and cut herself. By taking Ellis' WCF career and life, I ended what could have possibly been the worst thing shown on television. An anorexic anime whore that cut herself to get off. Shit like that should be on MTV where it belongs. Fact is, Jack, you took too long.
Speaking of wasting TV time, I'll never understand why Jack keeps getting time to ramble on about nothing and send people to get DVDs. This is what WCF invests its money into? Pointless segments following him around as he runs errands? Next week, we'll watch him do his laundry or go to the bank. I'm not interested in the stores you shop in, what bank you go to, where you take a dump, or anything Jack. I want you to come straightforward, explain your actions against me and the rest of the New Dynasty, and stop wasting everyone's time. I'm so sick of you and the ToT with their simply ridiculous attitudes. A lawn mower and blow up doll as girlfriends ... and even wives? I can see why you chose to align with them, Jack, they waste everyones time as well as you do.
I'm glad you finally sat down for an ... interview of sorts, though, Jack. It was rather enlightening. You just confirmed what everyone knew. Even when you do say something, it's not worth the time. I once saw a television show that said people sprinkle big words throughout their speech to sound smart and overpowering, almost an intimidation tactic. To me, it's just mumble time. Now before you go off on 'oh Creeping Death, you don't like me using my extended vocabulary because your cranium is too small to house a brain sufficient enough to comprehend my crap', know this. I understand everything loud and clear. Regardless of your previous thoughts, not only am I the craziest motherfucker in WCF history, I'm probably one of the smartest as well. Not everyone knows that, though. My obvious show of laziness and unwillingness to care about, well, most everything overshadows my vast brilliance.
However, it's time for a history lesson, once again, Mr. of Blades.
Creeping Death pauses. Thinks. He then nods.
Creeping Death: Yeah, that's right. Whatever. I'm pretty sick of explaining this to every newbie that I come across. The name 'Creeping Death' only IMPLIES slow, methodical and precise devastation. In reality, it's the opposite. 'Creeping Death' is the given name of the Angel of Death, the plague that ravaged the Egyptians of their first born male child. The name was given by Metallica, in their song of the same exact name, of which I was then named after.
Where do you get off calling us 'veterans'? Seems like every opponent I fight thinks I'm as old as Logan. Wrong. Jack, I am twenty two years old. I have been with WCF for three years. That, my friend, is no veteran. We don't even consider ourselves anything of the kind. We consider ourselves main eventers. The forefathers of WCF. We built this place, basically, from the ground up. We laid the groundwork you now step on. Guys like Hulk Hogan are veterans. Been around years and years and years. Three years does not constitute a label such as that. Seems like you're in the lot like the rest of those newbies I took out. Their mouths ran before their minds took action.
Creeping Death motions to the camera to come beside him and look inside the coffin. Laying in there is Ellis. She looks the same pale white as she did when she wrestled, even after rotting in the coffin for months. Arms all stitched up from cutting herself, purple eyes closed in peace. Creeping Death bends down and looks into Ellis' face.
Creeping Death: You're the reason Jack is pissed. It's you. I took you from him when he was playing his games with you. He took every measure to ensure your life was a living hell, causing you to go further and further over the edge, so he himself could break you into a million pieces. But I stepped in. I took what he had created and made it my victory. A victory I hold dear to my heart. Your pain was evident, Ellis. Those cuts on your arm and head show the pain. I relieved you of it. Jack of Blades was attempting psychological murder. A tactic he's not exactly known for nowadays. Only when he explains himself instead of using television time to walk his dog. My attack on you was, in fact, a cry out. I was undeservedly being overlooked in favor of these new guys that, obviously, know nothing of the company they join up with. Not only that, but JoJo had the title I've had my eye on for years. I'm sorry Ellis. I'm sorry.
So young. I'm so sorry I had to take your career. I'm so sorry I had to take your friends Hardcore title. I'm so sorry I took your life. It was for the better. You're now in a better place. No more mental assassination. No more cutting. No more mime shows. Nothing. Heh. It's funny. You look so pretty right now. Even prettier than I remember. Gosh.
Creeping Death sits down next to the coffin and begins stroking Ellis' hair.
Creeping Death: To think, it really is all your fault. Little ol' you. I can't get past it. You were crazy, and you made no sense, and you really pissed me off ... but I've dealt with crazy bitches before. I like it.
CD kisses Ellis' lips lightly.
Creeping Death: Why did I never do that while you were alive? Was that Jack's problem with you? He wanted your touch in some sick way? Well he'll never get the chance. You were mine months ago, and you're mine now. Everything is going to be alright.
CD strokes Ellis' face now, lightly touching her cheek.
Creeping Death: I'll get Jack of Blades at Ultimate Showdown. When I get through with him, WCF management will have enough brutality to make a hardcore wrestling DVD just from the match, and even send it to Jack while he's in the hospital. Maybe then he'll be ready for what's coming to him. In the mean time, Ellis, I think we should show him a lesson. Never ... fuck with Creeping Death.
CD climbs on top of Ellis, and takes his shirt off. CD then throws it at the camera, and the scene never goes back. We have gone to commercial.
