Post by FPV on Nov 13, 2011 11:11:29 GMT -5
At 9 a.m, a CD was dropped off at WCF headquarters. IT had no label on the front, and all the envelope said was "Watch this". When the CD was inserted into a computer, there was only one file, a .txt file that said "openme".
Hello WCF. I'm sure you've probably somewhat figured this out by now, so I'll just confirm your suspicions and say that this is Vic. I am afraid that I can't get Mr. Browns services, the last time the two of us met...well, you know what happenned. So from now on all of my official statements will come from CDs like this one. That won't be too hard on you now will it? All I ask is that you post everything I say on the internet for all to see.
Now, onto business. This week will be my first defense of my new Television Title. While I will enjoy the fact that it will give me better people to crush, the belt itself feels sort of....bland to me. It needs a little personalized Vic flair. Don't even worry about doing it for me, I'll be kind enough to do it myself. I'll get the supplies next week.
As for my match, I have an oppurtunity to do something I've wanted to do for some time now. Six people. Six people will get involved with me this week. My "partner", Flag Boy and Redneck #1, Thor and Harry Osbourne, and Redneck #2 as a ref. That's six people that I get to teach of their wrong-doings and bring them to a higher plane, a plane where life is easy, because you give so little shits.
To the man they call Oblivion, if you want to help me with my crusade, since it would be pointless to bring out ultra-violence since I want to drag this out as much as possible, then just stay out of my way and I MIGHT consider sparing you. Otherwise you'll just end up like the rest of these poor dicks.
To Mr. Deruty and Mr. Reb, I'll let you in on something. The good guys don't always win. Sure, you might slow down our progress, but you will never actually come out on top, that spot is reserved to us by God for life. So just stop crying about doing the right thing and take it like a bitch for once.
To Mr. Balfore and Mr. Blake, you have the audacity to call yourselve's the villian in this situation? Fuck that, you're just some high-school jocks giving the other kids wedgies on the playground, while I'm practically almost on death row now. There are aspiring car-jackers and robbers out there who are looking up to you for inspiration, and your doing a suck-ass job of doing it.
And lastly, to Mr. Henry, no hard feelings right? What am I kidding of course there's hard feelings. But the end of it is this: I won the belt. You didn't. Move on with your goddamned life. Pick on one of the other unfourtunate losers in this match. But if you even think about making a bad call on me in this match, you'll pay for it all right. This belt I have is nothing to me. It is only a gateway drug to the crack and heroin that is the world title. Then, will I bring my crusade even further.
The file ends there.
Hello WCF. I'm sure you've probably somewhat figured this out by now, so I'll just confirm your suspicions and say that this is Vic. I am afraid that I can't get Mr. Browns services, the last time the two of us met...well, you know what happenned. So from now on all of my official statements will come from CDs like this one. That won't be too hard on you now will it? All I ask is that you post everything I say on the internet for all to see.
Now, onto business. This week will be my first defense of my new Television Title. While I will enjoy the fact that it will give me better people to crush, the belt itself feels sort of....bland to me. It needs a little personalized Vic flair. Don't even worry about doing it for me, I'll be kind enough to do it myself. I'll get the supplies next week.
As for my match, I have an oppurtunity to do something I've wanted to do for some time now. Six people. Six people will get involved with me this week. My "partner", Flag Boy and Redneck #1, Thor and Harry Osbourne, and Redneck #2 as a ref. That's six people that I get to teach of their wrong-doings and bring them to a higher plane, a plane where life is easy, because you give so little shits.
To the man they call Oblivion, if you want to help me with my crusade, since it would be pointless to bring out ultra-violence since I want to drag this out as much as possible, then just stay out of my way and I MIGHT consider sparing you. Otherwise you'll just end up like the rest of these poor dicks.
To Mr. Deruty and Mr. Reb, I'll let you in on something. The good guys don't always win. Sure, you might slow down our progress, but you will never actually come out on top, that spot is reserved to us by God for life. So just stop crying about doing the right thing and take it like a bitch for once.
To Mr. Balfore and Mr. Blake, you have the audacity to call yourselve's the villian in this situation? Fuck that, you're just some high-school jocks giving the other kids wedgies on the playground, while I'm practically almost on death row now. There are aspiring car-jackers and robbers out there who are looking up to you for inspiration, and your doing a suck-ass job of doing it.
And lastly, to Mr. Henry, no hard feelings right? What am I kidding of course there's hard feelings. But the end of it is this: I won the belt. You didn't. Move on with your goddamned life. Pick on one of the other unfourtunate losers in this match. But if you even think about making a bad call on me in this match, you'll pay for it all right. This belt I have is nothing to me. It is only a gateway drug to the crack and heroin that is the world title. Then, will I bring my crusade even further.
The file ends there.
