Post by Vladimir Strife on Feb 25, 2015 20:38:38 GMT -4
As the hellacious Falls Count Anywhere except the ring match comes to an end, Alex Stall celebrates his victory posing in the corner for the fans, who go wild with cheers for the return of the legend. The pounding drums beginning Strapping Young Lad's The New Black pour out through the speakers, causing Alex to leap off of the turnbuckle and face the entrance, his fists raised before him prepared for a fight. As the curtain parts, the reason for his anxiety steps out, clad in the typical attire, a smile across his face, and a microphone in one hand and his wooden club in the other. He raises his right hand up, reassuringly to ask Stall to still himself and raises the mouthpiece up to it's proper position.
"Now, let's not get too antsy, here. Those days are behind us, Alex. That was long ago and even though I'm certain you still feel some sort of pang in your shoulder every time you see my face, rest assured that it is good to see you."
The high-flyer reaches through the ropes and Lizzie Morna passes him a microphone of his own. He thanks her and turns back toward the entrance, panting heavily into the microphone after his exhausting efforts.
"What do you want, Vlad?"
The question stretches the grin of the Barbarian Lord and he looks around the gynasium at those in attendance before returning to the conversation.
"Quite simple, Alex. I just want a word with Mr. Johnson here.."
"I'm not so sure you're going to get anything out of him.."
Stall shakes his head and holds a hand out toward the laid out newcomer, inviting the Behemoth to be his guest. Vladimir begins to pace down the ramp toward the ring, the fans on the edge
"That's quite fine. Mr. Johnson... if you can hear me, well, you know damn well who it is. See, it was a little over a month ago that I announced that EVPW would be reopening. I did that and quite a few men, yourself included, came to me and said you wanted in. I didn't know you, so I asked you if you wanted me to ease you in, give you something a bit more conventional, perhaps another newcomer to the scene to face. You told me no, that you wanted the authentic, full, EVPW experience. And so I racked my brains trying to decide who the right man for the job of doing so was. Then came an angel... THE Forsaken Angel, to be more specific.. a man who oozes the essence of EVPW. And so I made the match. Because I know who you work for, Jarad.."
Vladimir grabs a steel chair and slips it under the bottom rope before following in after it with the youngster in tow.
"Did you think I wouldn't? That I was so blind and out of touch that I would never see the sorts of things you post on your social media or have friends in low places with sensitive ears? Even in that sinking ship, drained of it's soul and slowly dying.. I am there, Mr. Johnson. I am everywhere. There is no place you can hide from me. But you don't need to... You see, I hear how everyone in that shithole speaks of me... of EVPW in whispers when they dare speak the name. They prefer to pretend that we don't exist, that Concord, California doesn't come up on their map. And if that is so, then let them do so... but don't insult us, dear boy, because there is far more from where all of this came.. Because we are not them. We are not Sports Entertainers nor are we Superstars, Mr. Johnson. We are wrestlers.. men who left those big Sports Entertainment companies like that in order to ply our trade. Alex Stall here and myself once worked for one of those big, cookie-cutter high-profile companies, Jarad. One that was much more entertaining, more exciting and talented than yours.. We beat the holy shit out of one another.. I put a drill through that man's shoulder.. And when they came down on us, when they started trying to be a family-friendly company as they all go the way of, we left to come to this hole in the wall and wrestle. To give these fans what they came for regardless of how many stitches we end the night with."
Vlad sets up the chair over Jarad's chest, pinning him to the mat as he takes a seat on it and stares down into his eyes, one of his contacts half-slid out of position as he gazes back up at the Behemoth.
"Run home, Jarad. Tell your men that Concord is still there. Tell them that you came to EVPW, certain it was nothing to fear, testing the waters and we nearly sent you home in a coffin.. Tell all of the Superstars and Sports Entertainers that this is the land where the Czar got his scars.. tell them that you faced actual wrestlers and you failed miserably.. You go tell Riley Williamson... David Michaels.. Danny Diamond... tell all of them that if they take exception to my kingdom, they are more than welcome to come tell me themselves.. that if they want war, we will annihilate every last man who professes support of their cesspit and bleed every 'Superstar' that they send our way until they are nothing but the memory they are already becoming. You and your friends have your precious little empire that you're oh, so proud of, Mr. Johnson, but you should mind your history... For even the Rome, the great empire that changed the entire world, the proud, majestic rulers of the free world, Jarad.. even they paid tribute to the Huns. Even they understood that war does not give a shit about your wealth or your pride or your history. It is not one by aristocrats and politicians and tiny men sitting in the back of the room fondling themselves to the jester's compliments! War goes to the warriors! Wars are won by depravity and brutality and relentlessness! We are the depraved! WE are the brutal and the relentless, Mr. Johnson! We are every bit as sick and twisted and inhuman and fucked in the head as they all claim in their hushed whispers! We are wrestlers and warriors! So if you and the rest of those 'Entertainers' and 'Superstars' ever get the impression that they can stand toe-to-toe with the men of EVPW, our door is wide open.. If you get a lust for blood, I say to you that there is absolutely NO better place for it than Concord, California!"
The Jared Nathan Memorial Gymnasium erupts with cheers and chants of "VLAD'S GONNA KILL YOU!", the intensity in the eyes of the Barbarian Lord seeming to back the sentiment that they'll soon be adding on a Jarad Johnson Memorial Shitter.
"Tell them that the violence and brutality and bloodshed that I brought upon XWA is only the tip of the iceberg of what awaits them here. You see, we won't pretend that EVPW is the only federation in the world, Jarad.. we won't even refute or refuse to acknowledge the XWA Universe... but rest assured that if you or your men wander into the Land of Rape and Honey again, we WILL.."
Strife allows the word to hang on the air for a moment to emphasis it as he bends down toward his capture with a sinister grin plastered across his face.
"DENY YOUR EXISTENCE!"
Vladimir drops the microphone and takes a hard swing with his cudgel, connecting with the left side of Jarad's cranium, a sickening sound ringing out through the venue as though the wood had snapped in half. Johnson is not so lucky, however, as the still fully intact cladagh is raised once more and plowed into his barely conscious countenance. Blood begins to flow freely from the newly formed gape over his temple as his blank eyes gaze off into an unknowable distance. The GodKing brandishes his weapon on high yet again before connecting with a blow that sends a shiver up the spine of every man and woman within earshot. Jarad's body begins to jerk violently, spasming upon the ever more so bloodsoaked canvas in a seizure. Guttural groans wretch from his gullet, sounding as if the contents of his stomach might come rushing out at any second. The Czar of Scars stands up and topples the chair over, his victim popping over onto his side instinctively, any semblance of consciousness a pipedream for the young man in the moment. A final strike catches him across the base of his skull and the star goes silent and still, no movement coming from his body until the Behemoth takes the iniative to spit into his face and roll him out of the ring under the bottom rope, letting him plop down upon the ringside mats unceremoniously. As the Romanian Scourge glowers at Jarad, the EVPW patrons make their support (and their sense of humor) known, a thunderous round after another alternating and echoing through the halls. "SELF DE-FENSE! GO HOME TREY-VON! SELF DE-FENSE! GO HOME TREY-VON! SELF DE-FENSE!"
'The New Black' strikes back up through the P.A. and the chants turn back to cheers, the famed co-owner of EVPW cracking a smile once more amid the squared circle before dropping down and rolling out, making his way back to the back, muttering something about the need for a bodybag to the passing emergency personel.
~End of Thread~
"Now, let's not get too antsy, here. Those days are behind us, Alex. That was long ago and even though I'm certain you still feel some sort of pang in your shoulder every time you see my face, rest assured that it is good to see you."
The high-flyer reaches through the ropes and Lizzie Morna passes him a microphone of his own. He thanks her and turns back toward the entrance, panting heavily into the microphone after his exhausting efforts.
"What do you want, Vlad?"
The question stretches the grin of the Barbarian Lord and he looks around the gynasium at those in attendance before returning to the conversation.
"Quite simple, Alex. I just want a word with Mr. Johnson here.."
"I'm not so sure you're going to get anything out of him.."
Stall shakes his head and holds a hand out toward the laid out newcomer, inviting the Behemoth to be his guest. Vladimir begins to pace down the ramp toward the ring, the fans on the edge
"That's quite fine. Mr. Johnson... if you can hear me, well, you know damn well who it is. See, it was a little over a month ago that I announced that EVPW would be reopening. I did that and quite a few men, yourself included, came to me and said you wanted in. I didn't know you, so I asked you if you wanted me to ease you in, give you something a bit more conventional, perhaps another newcomer to the scene to face. You told me no, that you wanted the authentic, full, EVPW experience. And so I racked my brains trying to decide who the right man for the job of doing so was. Then came an angel... THE Forsaken Angel, to be more specific.. a man who oozes the essence of EVPW. And so I made the match. Because I know who you work for, Jarad.."
Vladimir grabs a steel chair and slips it under the bottom rope before following in after it with the youngster in tow.
"Did you think I wouldn't? That I was so blind and out of touch that I would never see the sorts of things you post on your social media or have friends in low places with sensitive ears? Even in that sinking ship, drained of it's soul and slowly dying.. I am there, Mr. Johnson. I am everywhere. There is no place you can hide from me. But you don't need to... You see, I hear how everyone in that shithole speaks of me... of EVPW in whispers when they dare speak the name. They prefer to pretend that we don't exist, that Concord, California doesn't come up on their map. And if that is so, then let them do so... but don't insult us, dear boy, because there is far more from where all of this came.. Because we are not them. We are not Sports Entertainers nor are we Superstars, Mr. Johnson. We are wrestlers.. men who left those big Sports Entertainment companies like that in order to ply our trade. Alex Stall here and myself once worked for one of those big, cookie-cutter high-profile companies, Jarad. One that was much more entertaining, more exciting and talented than yours.. We beat the holy shit out of one another.. I put a drill through that man's shoulder.. And when they came down on us, when they started trying to be a family-friendly company as they all go the way of, we left to come to this hole in the wall and wrestle. To give these fans what they came for regardless of how many stitches we end the night with."
Vlad sets up the chair over Jarad's chest, pinning him to the mat as he takes a seat on it and stares down into his eyes, one of his contacts half-slid out of position as he gazes back up at the Behemoth.
"Run home, Jarad. Tell your men that Concord is still there. Tell them that you came to EVPW, certain it was nothing to fear, testing the waters and we nearly sent you home in a coffin.. Tell all of the Superstars and Sports Entertainers that this is the land where the Czar got his scars.. tell them that you faced actual wrestlers and you failed miserably.. You go tell Riley Williamson... David Michaels.. Danny Diamond... tell all of them that if they take exception to my kingdom, they are more than welcome to come tell me themselves.. that if they want war, we will annihilate every last man who professes support of their cesspit and bleed every 'Superstar' that they send our way until they are nothing but the memory they are already becoming. You and your friends have your precious little empire that you're oh, so proud of, Mr. Johnson, but you should mind your history... For even the Rome, the great empire that changed the entire world, the proud, majestic rulers of the free world, Jarad.. even they paid tribute to the Huns. Even they understood that war does not give a shit about your wealth or your pride or your history. It is not one by aristocrats and politicians and tiny men sitting in the back of the room fondling themselves to the jester's compliments! War goes to the warriors! Wars are won by depravity and brutality and relentlessness! We are the depraved! WE are the brutal and the relentless, Mr. Johnson! We are every bit as sick and twisted and inhuman and fucked in the head as they all claim in their hushed whispers! We are wrestlers and warriors! So if you and the rest of those 'Entertainers' and 'Superstars' ever get the impression that they can stand toe-to-toe with the men of EVPW, our door is wide open.. If you get a lust for blood, I say to you that there is absolutely NO better place for it than Concord, California!"
The Jared Nathan Memorial Gymnasium erupts with cheers and chants of "VLAD'S GONNA KILL YOU!", the intensity in the eyes of the Barbarian Lord seeming to back the sentiment that they'll soon be adding on a Jarad Johnson Memorial Shitter.
"Tell them that the violence and brutality and bloodshed that I brought upon XWA is only the tip of the iceberg of what awaits them here. You see, we won't pretend that EVPW is the only federation in the world, Jarad.. we won't even refute or refuse to acknowledge the XWA Universe... but rest assured that if you or your men wander into the Land of Rape and Honey again, we WILL.."
Strife allows the word to hang on the air for a moment to emphasis it as he bends down toward his capture with a sinister grin plastered across his face.
"DENY YOUR EXISTENCE!"
Vladimir drops the microphone and takes a hard swing with his cudgel, connecting with the left side of Jarad's cranium, a sickening sound ringing out through the venue as though the wood had snapped in half. Johnson is not so lucky, however, as the still fully intact cladagh is raised once more and plowed into his barely conscious countenance. Blood begins to flow freely from the newly formed gape over his temple as his blank eyes gaze off into an unknowable distance. The GodKing brandishes his weapon on high yet again before connecting with a blow that sends a shiver up the spine of every man and woman within earshot. Jarad's body begins to jerk violently, spasming upon the ever more so bloodsoaked canvas in a seizure. Guttural groans wretch from his gullet, sounding as if the contents of his stomach might come rushing out at any second. The Czar of Scars stands up and topples the chair over, his victim popping over onto his side instinctively, any semblance of consciousness a pipedream for the young man in the moment. A final strike catches him across the base of his skull and the star goes silent and still, no movement coming from his body until the Behemoth takes the iniative to spit into his face and roll him out of the ring under the bottom rope, letting him plop down upon the ringside mats unceremoniously. As the Romanian Scourge glowers at Jarad, the EVPW patrons make their support (and their sense of humor) known, a thunderous round after another alternating and echoing through the halls. "SELF DE-FENSE! GO HOME TREY-VON! SELF DE-FENSE! GO HOME TREY-VON! SELF DE-FENSE!"
'The New Black' strikes back up through the P.A. and the chants turn back to cheers, the famed co-owner of EVPW cracking a smile once more amid the squared circle before dropping down and rolling out, making his way back to the back, muttering something about the need for a bodybag to the passing emergency personel.
~End of Thread~
