Post by hassanumer999 on Mar 22, 2008 19:01:25 GMT
The scene opens in an unfamiliar dark room, illuminated only by a small light bulb hanging on the cieling. The camera rotates around the room, showing off a room that looks like it has'nt been cleaned in centuries. The camera stops when a man is seen, sitting on a seat, but we cannot make out who he is, as the light bulb is not enough to illuminate the room completely. The man moves forward from the seat, hunching his back a bit, and his face becomes visible. The man is infact, Sycho Sam. Sam takes his cigarette out of his mouth and starts to speak.
:Sam:
We all gotta start somewhere, don't we? But in my case I have to start from very bottom of the food chain. I mean, look at my apartment, it's a goddamn mess, that's what it is.
Sycho Sam gets up from the chair and moves closer to the middle of the light bulb's illuminating radius. Sam has only a tank top, and slightly faded blue jeans on.
:Sam:
But now I have a chance to make things right. I've failed at everything I've done, Now is my chance to make something of my life again. When the underground promotion, DaVE, Danger and Violence Extreme closed, my career became a pale shadow of what it once was. Instead of attracting the attention of the major promotions the same way I did three years agon, I became complacent. I wrestled in small promotions, barely making enough to pay for my house. My savings quickly dried up, I had to sell my house, and I became a fat, drunken has-been.
Sam now moves towards the window and looks outside, observing the fast cars, the big billboards.
:Sam:
I used to be living the good life. Not a millionaire, but six figures. And I was loyal to DaVE. It was my home. My family. And then... it slipped away. But now. Now, I have a chance to amend. A chance to make things right. To earn back the life I once led. To earn the respect of the fans who idolized my brutal and bloody matches.
Sam moves away from the window and takes out a cigarette and lights it.
:Sam:
And I'm ready to choose my first victim here. His name is Robert Smedley. The self proclaimed, King of Hardcore. He says he eats, sleeps, and breathes blood. He calls himself the Messiah of Hardcore. And you know what I call him? A fucking poser. That's what he is, a poser. That dude, he coud'nt know what hardcore was even if he got smashed by a chair. So Smedley. Here's an open challenge. You, me, one on one. I don't care what match. A no ropes barbed wire match, a flaming tables match, or even a death match. I don't care. But when you step into the ring with the Hardcore Headbanger, you're gonna be stepping into the ring with someone, who's seen it all, someone who's fucking done it all. You step into the ring with me, and you'll know what hardcore means.
Sam gets up and moves towards the camera, and snatches it from the cameraman. Sam looks straight into the camera and speaks.
:Sam:
So, what do you say, Blaze? You got enough balls to step up to the Hardcore Headbanger?
Sam then throws the camera to the cameraman, who aquardly catches it. Sam steps back and laughs as the scene fades out
EOT
(ooc: comments will be appreciated)
:Sam:
We all gotta start somewhere, don't we? But in my case I have to start from very bottom of the food chain. I mean, look at my apartment, it's a goddamn mess, that's what it is.
Sycho Sam gets up from the chair and moves closer to the middle of the light bulb's illuminating radius. Sam has only a tank top, and slightly faded blue jeans on.
:Sam:
But now I have a chance to make things right. I've failed at everything I've done, Now is my chance to make something of my life again. When the underground promotion, DaVE, Danger and Violence Extreme closed, my career became a pale shadow of what it once was. Instead of attracting the attention of the major promotions the same way I did three years agon, I became complacent. I wrestled in small promotions, barely making enough to pay for my house. My savings quickly dried up, I had to sell my house, and I became a fat, drunken has-been.
Sam now moves towards the window and looks outside, observing the fast cars, the big billboards.
:Sam:
I used to be living the good life. Not a millionaire, but six figures. And I was loyal to DaVE. It was my home. My family. And then... it slipped away. But now. Now, I have a chance to amend. A chance to make things right. To earn back the life I once led. To earn the respect of the fans who idolized my brutal and bloody matches.
Sam moves away from the window and takes out a cigarette and lights it.
:Sam:
And I'm ready to choose my first victim here. His name is Robert Smedley. The self proclaimed, King of Hardcore. He says he eats, sleeps, and breathes blood. He calls himself the Messiah of Hardcore. And you know what I call him? A fucking poser. That's what he is, a poser. That dude, he coud'nt know what hardcore was even if he got smashed by a chair. So Smedley. Here's an open challenge. You, me, one on one. I don't care what match. A no ropes barbed wire match, a flaming tables match, or even a death match. I don't care. But when you step into the ring with the Hardcore Headbanger, you're gonna be stepping into the ring with someone, who's seen it all, someone who's fucking done it all. You step into the ring with me, and you'll know what hardcore means.
Sam gets up and moves towards the camera, and snatches it from the cameraman. Sam looks straight into the camera and speaks.
:Sam:
So, what do you say, Blaze? You got enough balls to step up to the Hardcore Headbanger?
Sam then throws the camera to the cameraman, who aquardly catches it. Sam steps back and laughs as the scene fades out
EOT
(ooc: comments will be appreciated)
