Post by AlphaBeta on Mar 26, 2014 20:41:06 GMT -5
The scene opens up with HIM. Yes, him, one of the most villainous men in professional wrestling history. One of the men in the history of the beloved business that you not only loved to hate, but loved to hate from a long and safe distance. A safe enough distance where his maniacal wrath couldn't harm you in any way, shape, or form. He was one of the men that not only was vividly recognized for his violent nature, but was also intelligent enough to continue to get away with it for years. Blood, sweat and tears defined him, and not in the positive way.
In case you haven't clued in, the man in the shot was none other than former TNB and I:W star, Ryan Blaze. He sat on an empty milk crate, his location in the building unknown. He was dressed to the nines in his mind, an old dusty suit jacket was thrown hastily on over top of a black button up dress shirt that was not ironed out, and not tucked in. His purple tie was left hanging loosely around his thick neck. His dress pants had large tears in both knees, and the cuffs of the pant legs were tattered from him stepping on them with the backs of his shoes. Of course, his hair was greasy and unkempt, his beard was as "marvelous" as it always was, and his face was painted up, looking like that was the only thing he took the time out of his day to do properly. In between his lips, a Lucky Strike unfiltered cigarette was providing Ryan with his fix. Beside the milk crate rested a half empty bottled of Jack Daniels Tennessee whiskey, which made it appear as if he was drinking straight from the bottle.
Sitting parallel from Ryan was a small flat screen television set, which had a flashing text and logo on it, rapidly brightening and darkening the nearly pitch black room he was stationed in. It was enough to set an epileptic kid into a fit, a seizure prone stoner into a "Shake & Bake special". The logo read:
ViralWrestling presents
OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS
He chuckled, running his grubby fingers through the messy mop he called his hair. He hit another long, drawn out inhale of his cigarette before releasing a toxic smoke bomb from his lungs of cancerous nicotine. Resting his head now against the solid, dusty brick wall behind him, he finally spoke with his infamous, chilling voice.
Opportunity? Here's your fuckin' opportunity to please me, you money hungry, social parasite SLUTS. Let us see some blood! Bleed for old papa Ryan Blaze, would ya? Bleed.
Ryan lets out a hideous cackle before taking another drag from his cigarette. Smoke blown, he speaks again.
Boost the ratings. Boost the ratings. Boost the ratings. BOOST THE RATINGS, BOOST 'EM. BLOOD FOR ALL THE CHILDREN TONIGHT!
Madness.
The scene fades of him tossing his cigarette to the floor. He takes the bottle of liquor, takes a nice, long 'sip', and then lights up another cigarette.
In case you haven't clued in, the man in the shot was none other than former TNB and I:W star, Ryan Blaze. He sat on an empty milk crate, his location in the building unknown. He was dressed to the nines in his mind, an old dusty suit jacket was thrown hastily on over top of a black button up dress shirt that was not ironed out, and not tucked in. His purple tie was left hanging loosely around his thick neck. His dress pants had large tears in both knees, and the cuffs of the pant legs were tattered from him stepping on them with the backs of his shoes. Of course, his hair was greasy and unkempt, his beard was as "marvelous" as it always was, and his face was painted up, looking like that was the only thing he took the time out of his day to do properly. In between his lips, a Lucky Strike unfiltered cigarette was providing Ryan with his fix. Beside the milk crate rested a half empty bottled of Jack Daniels Tennessee whiskey, which made it appear as if he was drinking straight from the bottle.
Sitting parallel from Ryan was a small flat screen television set, which had a flashing text and logo on it, rapidly brightening and darkening the nearly pitch black room he was stationed in. It was enough to set an epileptic kid into a fit, a seizure prone stoner into a "Shake & Bake special". The logo read:
ViralWrestling presents
OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS
He chuckled, running his grubby fingers through the messy mop he called his hair. He hit another long, drawn out inhale of his cigarette before releasing a toxic smoke bomb from his lungs of cancerous nicotine. Resting his head now against the solid, dusty brick wall behind him, he finally spoke with his infamous, chilling voice.
Opportunity? Here's your fuckin' opportunity to please me, you money hungry, social parasite SLUTS. Let us see some blood! Bleed for old papa Ryan Blaze, would ya? Bleed.
Ryan lets out a hideous cackle before taking another drag from his cigarette. Smoke blown, he speaks again.
Boost the ratings. Boost the ratings. Boost the ratings. BOOST THE RATINGS, BOOST 'EM. BLOOD FOR ALL THE CHILDREN TONIGHT!
Madness.
The scene fades of him tossing his cigarette to the floor. He takes the bottle of liquor, takes a nice, long 'sip', and then lights up another cigarette.