Post by Nightmare on Feb 23, 2007 19:15:11 GMT -5
Glory.
It belongs to the demon now, and man has no say in it whatsoever.
They don't control demon's destiny. He has already set it for himself.
And in the end it will have no reference of any man.
Only demon.
And his neverending reign of terror.
===
(The lights come on and Three Days Grace is blasting over the speakers of the arena. The fans immediately try to jeer back to the locker room the man who they know must be appearing next, and he hasn't even appeared yet. Soon, NIGHTMARE bursts from the curtain wearing his usual attire of filthy black jeans, white long-sleeve tee, black high-top all-star converse shoes, and his hair is tied back in a ponytail. Over his left shoulder he has draped his knewly won Television title. In his left hand is a microphone as he keeps the TV title steady with his left wrist-taped forearm. The wrist tape is fresh, still black. With his right hand he holds a bag of ice to his chin where Chad Kurtis' superkick connected with his face. He's very clearly not happy, spitting small amounts of blood every now and then. He slides his title and the microphone into the ring, drops the bag of ice by the apron, and rolls into the ring. As he stands up, he grabs his precious title and the microphone. He holds the title in his left hand, hanging down by his side, the leather strap scraping the surface of the canvas. He holds the microphone in his right hand, hanging down by his side. He looks around at the audience, who have shown no signs of backing off with the jeers, but it's not like the new side of NIGHTMARE gives half a damn. He simply smirks at the crowd, shaking his head as he spits a little more blood mixed with his saliva onto the canvas. This is no ordinary blood, or saliva. Now it's the saliva of a champion. A fighting champion, whether you like it or not.)
(NIGHTMARE raises the microphone to his mouth, but the fans show him no respect. He doesn't wait, he only talks louder.)
NIGHTMARE - So, Chad Kurtis' thought it would be cool to rain on my parade with a superkick, does he? He wanted to ruin my celebration? He didn't want me to get the glory I deserve? And you all ate. It. Up, didn't you? You LOVED watching me get someone else's boot in my face?
(NIGHTMARE pauses for the fan's reaction. At the mention of Chad Kurtis they gave a pop, but their reaction is still negative toward NIGHTMARE. He doesn't wait very long before continuing.)
NIGHTMARE - Well, you decided it was cool to watch my parade get rained on, so I'll rain on yours.
(He drops the microphone beside him, creating a resounding boom on the PA system, and climbs the turnbuckle, raising his arms high and in it the TV title. The crowd boos for all they're worth, but NIGHTMARE takes them in like cheers, basking in his own glory. He gets down from the turbuckle, spits more blood, and creates a little victory scene. Beating his chest with his right hand holding the title in the air with his left, he backs up to the ropes as the fans get louder and louder. NIGHTMARE finishes his little show and picks up the microphone again, smirking.)
NIGHTMARE - Now, on to the important matters. Kurtis, first you come out after MY title victory and kick ME in the chin, and then you cut some crap-tacular promo for Josh Reynolds telling me that it's your time. You call yourself the "Innovator of Offense." I'll tell you what, Chad, for Action!'s match, you better work on some defense, bitch. I'm gonna take you to school in that ring, and I'll teach you exactly who's time it is.
And then you cut some other crappy-ass promo where you gave me some "facts."
Faster? Pfffft.
Better wrestler? Pfffft.
NEW CHAMP? PFFFFT!
The only new television champion around here is me, you worthless piece of white trash. I don't care how many Kurtis Brothers there are, I'll wipe the floor with you sorry sons of bitches!
And as for you, Dio Muerte. I didn't forget what you and your friend Jeff James did to me in my second match back here, you son of a bitch. Action! is my redemption. My window of opportunity for revenge has come. Dio, I'll drop you on your head just like the rest of them who have fallen to the Dream Catcher II. No one's kicked out of it yet, and they never will.
So, Chad, try not to flatter yourself. Because there's no way in hell you're leaving with MY TITLE. And as for you, Dio Muerte.
You thought you'd get the easy way out, eh? But you'll suffer the same fate as everyone else who has stepped in my way of becoming NAPW TV Champ.
A short drop and a sudden stop.
(NIGHTMARE drops the microphone and rolls out of the ring to Three Days Grace. The fans try to boo over the music, jeering him back to the locker room. He stops at the entrance ramp and raises the NAPW TV belt high over head. Originally, those fans would be absolutely thrilled to see NIGHTMARE as champion. But all they want now is for the cocky, arrogant son of a bitch to drop dead. And he knows this as an arrogant smirk crosses his face. It won't happen any time soon.)
===
Demon has what he wants.
And it's also what man wants.
But he'll have to pry it from demon's cold, dead fingers.[/color]
It belongs to the demon now, and man has no say in it whatsoever.
They don't control demon's destiny. He has already set it for himself.
And in the end it will have no reference of any man.
Only demon.
And his neverending reign of terror.
===
(The lights come on and Three Days Grace is blasting over the speakers of the arena. The fans immediately try to jeer back to the locker room the man who they know must be appearing next, and he hasn't even appeared yet. Soon, NIGHTMARE bursts from the curtain wearing his usual attire of filthy black jeans, white long-sleeve tee, black high-top all-star converse shoes, and his hair is tied back in a ponytail. Over his left shoulder he has draped his knewly won Television title. In his left hand is a microphone as he keeps the TV title steady with his left wrist-taped forearm. The wrist tape is fresh, still black. With his right hand he holds a bag of ice to his chin where Chad Kurtis' superkick connected with his face. He's very clearly not happy, spitting small amounts of blood every now and then. He slides his title and the microphone into the ring, drops the bag of ice by the apron, and rolls into the ring. As he stands up, he grabs his precious title and the microphone. He holds the title in his left hand, hanging down by his side, the leather strap scraping the surface of the canvas. He holds the microphone in his right hand, hanging down by his side. He looks around at the audience, who have shown no signs of backing off with the jeers, but it's not like the new side of NIGHTMARE gives half a damn. He simply smirks at the crowd, shaking his head as he spits a little more blood mixed with his saliva onto the canvas. This is no ordinary blood, or saliva. Now it's the saliva of a champion. A fighting champion, whether you like it or not.)
(NIGHTMARE raises the microphone to his mouth, but the fans show him no respect. He doesn't wait, he only talks louder.)
NIGHTMARE - So, Chad Kurtis' thought it would be cool to rain on my parade with a superkick, does he? He wanted to ruin my celebration? He didn't want me to get the glory I deserve? And you all ate. It. Up, didn't you? You LOVED watching me get someone else's boot in my face?
(NIGHTMARE pauses for the fan's reaction. At the mention of Chad Kurtis they gave a pop, but their reaction is still negative toward NIGHTMARE. He doesn't wait very long before continuing.)
NIGHTMARE - Well, you decided it was cool to watch my parade get rained on, so I'll rain on yours.
(He drops the microphone beside him, creating a resounding boom on the PA system, and climbs the turnbuckle, raising his arms high and in it the TV title. The crowd boos for all they're worth, but NIGHTMARE takes them in like cheers, basking in his own glory. He gets down from the turbuckle, spits more blood, and creates a little victory scene. Beating his chest with his right hand holding the title in the air with his left, he backs up to the ropes as the fans get louder and louder. NIGHTMARE finishes his little show and picks up the microphone again, smirking.)
NIGHTMARE - Now, on to the important matters. Kurtis, first you come out after MY title victory and kick ME in the chin, and then you cut some crap-tacular promo for Josh Reynolds telling me that it's your time. You call yourself the "Innovator of Offense." I'll tell you what, Chad, for Action!'s match, you better work on some defense, bitch. I'm gonna take you to school in that ring, and I'll teach you exactly who's time it is.
And then you cut some other crappy-ass promo where you gave me some "facts."
Faster? Pfffft.
Better wrestler? Pfffft.
NEW CHAMP? PFFFFT!
The only new television champion around here is me, you worthless piece of white trash. I don't care how many Kurtis Brothers there are, I'll wipe the floor with you sorry sons of bitches!
And as for you, Dio Muerte. I didn't forget what you and your friend Jeff James did to me in my second match back here, you son of a bitch. Action! is my redemption. My window of opportunity for revenge has come. Dio, I'll drop you on your head just like the rest of them who have fallen to the Dream Catcher II. No one's kicked out of it yet, and they never will.
So, Chad, try not to flatter yourself. Because there's no way in hell you're leaving with MY TITLE. And as for you, Dio Muerte.
You thought you'd get the easy way out, eh? But you'll suffer the same fate as everyone else who has stepped in my way of becoming NAPW TV Champ.
A short drop and a sudden stop.
(NIGHTMARE drops the microphone and rolls out of the ring to Three Days Grace. The fans try to boo over the music, jeering him back to the locker room. He stops at the entrance ramp and raises the NAPW TV belt high over head. Originally, those fans would be absolutely thrilled to see NIGHTMARE as champion. But all they want now is for the cocky, arrogant son of a bitch to drop dead. And he knows this as an arrogant smirk crosses his face. It won't happen any time soon.)
===
Demon has what he wants.
And it's also what man wants.
But he'll have to pry it from demon's cold, dead fingers.[/color]