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 Never Backing Down

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Brandon Bash
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Posts : 102
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Join date : 2012-04-16
Age : 28
Status : #WickedPrayerInc.

PostSubject: Never Backing Down   Tue Jun 05, 2012 7:54 pm



Last Saturday on Overdrive...

The crowd was on their feet as I begin to climb up to my feet. Kendrick Williams had just kicked out before the three count after I had landed a brainbuster. A smirk was on my face. I could feel his confidence of winning this match was just about broken. I Irish whipped him into the corner, and quickly followed it up by running right at him. I leaped into the air, as my chest came crashing down into him. I bounced back as he stumbled forward in pain. I then Irish whipped him into the opposite corner. I charged at him once again, looking for a corner clothesline. Instead, my face had a brief meeting with Kendrick's foot as he caught me with a boot to the face. I stumbled back to the middle of the ring, holding my left hand to the side of my face. Kendrick now was the one charging towards me, thinking he had an upper hand on me. I quickly ducked down, clutching my arms around his waist and used his own momentum to lift him up high, before slamming him down onto his back onto his back with a huge high-impact spinebuster. The crowd was going wild as I jumped up to my feet, banging my chest to let them know that the end was near. K-Will's confidence had jumped back up after that big boot, but had been completely broken with that spinebuster. How did I know? I looked down at him as he was now on his knees, begging for me to give him a break. A sadistic grin grows across my face, as I look at him. I grabbed Kendrick by his throat with my right hand and lifted him up to his feet. His eyes grew wide, as I suddenly hoisted him up onto my shoulders. I looked out at the crowd, as I then began to spin to my left. I released the grip I had on his left leg, as I let the momentum of his body weight spin him off of my shoulders, yet remained holding onto his head. I jumped up, dropping back with my right knee extended up, both of us in mid-air for a split second. My back came crashing down onto the mat, as both Kendrick's confidence and his face crashed down onto my knee. The Wicked Prayer had connected, flawlessly. Kendrick's body rolled over onto his back, as I quickly covered his motionless body for the one, two, three. I jumped back up to my feet, pounding my skull with my right fist before raising both of my fists up into the air in victory. I jumped up onto the middle rope, looking out at the crowd with a sadistic grin still spread across my lips as "The Last Fight" by Bullet for my Valentine began to blare throughout the arena. I hopped down, looking at the still motionless Kendrick Williams, the sadistic grin growing into that of a smile as I had just done what I had promised to do, as the crowd was still going wild...

Tuesday, three days after Overdrive...

The scene opens up in darkness. The sound of a camera being moved could be heard, before it suddenly stops. It had been placed down on something, as it was quiet for a few moments. Then, a slight buzz could be heard as the darkness turned into that of a green hew. You can now see the inside of an old, apparently abandoned house. The windows have been painted over, keeping any sunlight from leaking in. So, the time is not known. The only furniture seen is an old couch that has been burned or just torn up. Some of the carpet on the ground was either torn out or burned. There is also an old recliner to the right, the back piece had been ripped off and is laying to the side of the bottom half, the leg rest opened up. A steel chair is sitting in the middle of it all, obviously been placed there rather recently. The room is full of dust and cobwebs, and who knows what kind of creatures live in this old, abandoned house. The sound of someone clearing their throats could be heard, as I suddenly stepped in front of the camera. I was wearing a pair of gray slacks, though only the hint of them being of a dark color could be noticed in the green hew of the nightvision on my video recorder. A pair of black dress shoes on my feet, and a long-sleeved white dress shirt covering my upper body. A few of the top buttons were un-buttoned, and a tie was around my neck, but had been loosened quite a bit. My short, dark brown hair was a mess. The clothes were obviously wrinkled. Bags were still seen under my eyes, barely. I sat down on the steel chair, resting my elbows on my knees, and resting my face into the palms of my hands, as they held the weight of my head up. You could hear a deep sigh escape from my mouth, as I just sat there for a few moments. I was a prisoner in my own mind. A day before, I had watched my father get placed into the ground, as dirt poured over his casket. My step-mother cried her fake tears, and caused a scene when she discovered she only got five thousand dollars from my father in his will. As expected, he left the Kendrick National Bank to my mother, sister and I. We had agreed that mother be the chairman, as my sister, Leisha, became the C.E.O. I had been assigned the head of the board of directors. He had let my sister and brother-in-law have his house...which they quickly had our wicked step-mother kicked out of. All seemed right in the world, other than the fact that our father was gone. I lifted my head, and shook these thoughts from my mind. I looked into the camera, as the words of Mason DeAngelo and Raphael Di Acciaioli raced through my mind.

"I have spoken in the past of how the darkness is like a home to me. How ironic that I now sit in the home in which I grew up, in complete darkness. How pitiful, how this place has crumbled. Just like many places that I have called home. Though I mourn for the loss of my father, I have proved to everyone that it won't break my focus. It won't stop me from doing the thing that I love. And from doing just what I had promised I would do. I not only defeated Kendrick Williams, or K-Will...whichever you prefer to call him. I broke his confidence. I made him eat his own words, proving that he is no 'superior athlete.' Kendrick Williams was nothing more than a cocky kid with a big ego, who thought he was the superior athlete because of his speed. Yet, who was the one who was out of breathe towards the end? The one down on his knees, begging for me to show him pity and give him a break? Point. Proven. So now, I am one step closer to becoming the Warfare Entertainment Wrestling's first ever Revolution Champion. Winning championship gold isn't usually something that I look to achieve so quickly in this business...but if I'm considered to be someone that Christian Taranto thought would be a great competitor to possibly be the first every Revolution Champion, then I'm honored. But, what really makes me want to win the Revolution Championship? That's simple...the competition. Now, let's get the thoughts of my three opponents out in the open, shall we?"

I now leaned back into the steel chair, crossing my arms across my chest. Which of the three opponents should I speak of first? The man who claimed I was his target, even when he was originally booked to face Quintin Knox? The man who claims that just because he made Martin Taylor tap out, that he can easily defeat the likes of myself and Mason DeAngelo? Or, perhaps I could start with the man who defeated Michael London after the return of Phillip Phillips distracted him? I guess I should start with the man who has yet to speak out about the match coming up on this week's episode of Saturday Night Overdrive.

"Ray Hardyac. I'm sure you're tired of hearing people say that the only reason you won your match against Michael London is because of the interference of Phillip Phillips. But, after watching the ending of your match...I have to agree. London had laid you out with his Venom move...but, you know what? The fact of the matter is, you won the match. Undeserving or not, you will now be in this fatal four way match. We will see if you really are deserving to be in this tournament, because if you're able to survive and not be the man pinned this week...then bravo to you, Ray. I respect you and all, but unfortunately...I do not see you prevailing in this tournament. Though, I cannot say that much about another man who many see as not deserving to still be in this tournament..."

I shifted a bit in the chair, reaching into my right chest pocket of my shirt and pulling out my HTC Inspire. A text from my wife, Brooke...asking me to get a few things from the store on my way back home. After taking a few moments to let my eyes adjust to the light emitted from the phone, I quickly replied with a simple "Okay, will do." and shoved the phone back into my chest pocket after putting it into sleep mode. I looked back into the camera now, and opened my mouth to breathe out more words on the upcoming match.

"As for Raphael Leonardo Donatello Michelangelo Splinter Shredder the eleventy-second...wait a second...did I get that right? It doesn't really matter. I don't really respect you too much. I simply just don't like your style. You think that you're better than everyone else just because you have money. You do have quite some skill, though. You hit Martin Taylor with a low blow, true. But you were right when you said that this fact did not harm his legs. However...do you really think you would have had the chance to lock in that Sixteenth Century Stretch without that cheap shot? Well, many people...myself included, think that you wouldn't have had that chance. Raphael, you didn't continue your path into this tournament with your wrestling skill, but with your trickery. If you want to see true wrestling skill, you can watch the way I defeated Kendrick Williams. Because, Raphael...I can tell you right now, I will be answering your Wicked Prayer soon enough. That is, of course, if I can get to you before the fourth man in this match can. I may not like his attitude, but I can't deny his wrestling ability. The man that I'm sure will be the man who, in the end, will be the only man standing across from me in the ring..."

I leaned forward, resting my forearms onto my knees now. The sadistic grin was still seen on my face right before I looked down at the ground. A small sigh could barely be heard escaping from my lips, as I thought of the words said about me from the last man in this match. I chuckled to myself a bit as some of the things said crosses my mind. But when I look back up into the camera, there are no smiles. No chuckles. Yup...shit just got real.

"Mason DeAngelo. The 'Prime Time' warrior in Warfare Entertainment Wrestling. You claim to be the greatest gift to wrestling...why does that sound so familiar? Hm...oh, right. Because it seems like every week we have someone new coming out and claiming the same thing. Rather it be the greatest, the most superior, or even just the fastest rising star in the company...everyone claims to be the greatest. What makes you any different than Kendrick Willims, Mason? I'll tell you what. You can actually back up your words with your skill, unlike K-Will could. Oh, and thanks for the compliment...my wife would agree that I do have a pretty face. As for it being crushed by your superior wrestling skills...you are sadly mistaken. Last Saturday I didn't really get a chance to show you my true technical ability. Back in Anarchy Wrestling Organization, I got to show a little of my technical skill. Yet, I was disappointed by the likes of Shane Howlett and Zeke Nero. I hope to step into the ring with them again here in the W.E.W, and for them to give me a greater challenge than before. I am excited to be stepping into the ring with someone of your skill, Mason. Why is that, you wonder? Because it seems like finally I will be stepping into the ring with someone who will give me an actual challenge. That is why I signed up with this company, to bring out the best of me. For years I dominated in the Extreme Championship Wrestling Federation...until I was their last ever multi-champion, winning their World Heavyweight Championship for a second time in it's final match. As well as defending the Million Dollar Championship since January, and I had just returned from a two year hiatus back in November. I came to the then-known A.W.O expecting a greater challenge, since Xavier Serikaz told me that ECWF was a joke compared to this place. Since then, I haven't really had much competition put in front of me. I'm not trying to throw past championships in your face, Mason. I'm just telling you the facts. You seem to be the challenge that I've been waiting for. But, I thought the same thing out of Shane Howlett. Out of Zeke Nero. Had a glimmer of hope that the loudmouthed Kendrick Williams was going to be some kind of competition. I truly hope that you live up to your reputation when we meet in the ring, Mason DeAngelo. Because, so far...the competition here has been nothing but that of a disappointment. Don't let me down, Mason. Because like I said, I expect for it to be down to the two of us in the finals of the Revolution Championship Tournament. But, what I think I should really be saying is this. Mason DeAngelo...don't let your own ego down. Because even the self-proclaimed 'greatest' have fallen before me. Superior skills or not. What makes you any different?"

I pushed myself up to my feet as that last word was spoken. My trademark sadistic grin creeping back across my lips before my face was out of the picture. I stepped out of view, and a clicking sound could be heard. The scene then cut to black, as a short humming sound could be heard.

"And this...this could be your future, Mason DeAngelo. Nothing but darkness..."

Another click could be heard. This time, the scene faded out, as the promo came to an end.

END.
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