Post by predator on Jan 6, 2006 17:15:35 GMT -5
[fade up]
---We find ourselves running along what appears to be a large rugged cliff. Behind us we hear booming footsteps, gaining. We abrubtly stop at the edge of the cliff---
---ThePredator glares at the camera through the dark lenses of his mask. He does not seem to be very happy. But nevertheless, he is calm. Behind him, there are two lockers with a fist size whole in each, side-by-side. One locker door is completely torn open. We know them all to be very familiar. ThePredator removes his mask. His yellow eyes cut holes through our very souls. Something about his expression gives us a feeling of hope where there is none, and happiness where there is misery.
"Chris Casino." he growls, "I haven't a clue why you feel I am afraid of you. The only thing I fear, is that you fail to realize the utter inevitability of your defeat at my hands." he walks over to another locker door, quietly and carefully unlocks and opens it, reaches down and pulls out a copy of the original NAPW World Heavyweight Championship. It was renewed by yours truly, ThePredator, using the original pieces. He shakes his head, looking down.
"Casino, you have given me no choice." he says calmly, yet coldly. "I will face you on Monday. You can be quite sure. And I will win . . . I fear I don't completely understand your reasons for believing I have made a fool of myself. Casino, I hope you are quite proud of your current reign . . . because Monday Night Fights is the utter end of the "Casino Era". And the beginning of the reign of ThePredator, and NAPW. I do not wrestle for myself, I thought you would have understanded this much by now."
Our host we remember as the "nameless" one puts his mask on and throws the belt on the bench. He walks over to a locker that is mostly left locked, and unlocks it. He reaches in and pulls out a glove with a massive blade on the end. He puts it on, and looks at the camera.
"Look familiar? I'm sure it does." he sneers coldly. His mask conceals the obvious smile he wears beneath. "Casino, I wear a mask, because I want to. Not to hide any shame you think I have. Which is why I will not wear it on Monday. Yes, I am showing up, in case your puny, penny-pinching mind can not consume your inevitable fate. I talk trash? You haven't heard or seen anything yet." He snickers spitefully. After abrubtly stopping, he walks nearer the camera. His silver mask glistens in the flourescent lighting.
"Your defeat is inevitable. Casino, I've said it once, and if I must I will say it again---
---The Hunt Has Begun---
[fade out]
---We find ourselves running along what appears to be a large rugged cliff. Behind us we hear booming footsteps, gaining. We abrubtly stop at the edge of the cliff---
---ThePredator glares at the camera through the dark lenses of his mask. He does not seem to be very happy. But nevertheless, he is calm. Behind him, there are two lockers with a fist size whole in each, side-by-side. One locker door is completely torn open. We know them all to be very familiar. ThePredator removes his mask. His yellow eyes cut holes through our very souls. Something about his expression gives us a feeling of hope where there is none, and happiness where there is misery.
"Chris Casino." he growls, "I haven't a clue why you feel I am afraid of you. The only thing I fear, is that you fail to realize the utter inevitability of your defeat at my hands." he walks over to another locker door, quietly and carefully unlocks and opens it, reaches down and pulls out a copy of the original NAPW World Heavyweight Championship. It was renewed by yours truly, ThePredator, using the original pieces. He shakes his head, looking down.
"Casino, you have given me no choice." he says calmly, yet coldly. "I will face you on Monday. You can be quite sure. And I will win . . . I fear I don't completely understand your reasons for believing I have made a fool of myself. Casino, I hope you are quite proud of your current reign . . . because Monday Night Fights is the utter end of the "Casino Era". And the beginning of the reign of ThePredator, and NAPW. I do not wrestle for myself, I thought you would have understanded this much by now."
Our host we remember as the "nameless" one puts his mask on and throws the belt on the bench. He walks over to a locker that is mostly left locked, and unlocks it. He reaches in and pulls out a glove with a massive blade on the end. He puts it on, and looks at the camera.
"Look familiar? I'm sure it does." he sneers coldly. His mask conceals the obvious smile he wears beneath. "Casino, I wear a mask, because I want to. Not to hide any shame you think I have. Which is why I will not wear it on Monday. Yes, I am showing up, in case your puny, penny-pinching mind can not consume your inevitable fate. I talk trash? You haven't heard or seen anything yet." He snickers spitefully. After abrubtly stopping, he walks nearer the camera. His silver mask glistens in the flourescent lighting.
"Your defeat is inevitable. Casino, I've said it once, and if I must I will say it again---
---The Hunt Has Begun---
[fade out]