Re: AGGRESSION 66: Sean Stevens & Animezing Dragons (cc) vs. Eddie Burns, Rezin & Ana
(CUE UP: "Firelung" by the Lions of Tsavo.)
(The shot opens up within the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago, focused on a large glass display case showing two massive and maneless stillform lions within an African setting. After a moment, the notorious force of suffering and destruction known as REZIN steps into the frame, smiling as he approaches the display case and looks deep into the eyes of two of the greatest predators in existence.)
Beautiful... aren't they?
(He turns around to face the camera, bearing the goat-like smirk of a madman.)
I've always had an affinity for the natural world. Out there... out in the WILD... the only law and order is "survival of the fittest". Chaos in its purest form... no justice, no limitations, no happy endings... and yet, there's a strange sort of balance holding it all together.
It's long been said the the lion is the KING of the jungle. But these two big bastards... they represented a different kind of royalty. There's an interesting story behind it.
The year was 1898, and the place was the Tsavo river in Kenya. British colonists, intent on covering every last square inch of the wild African continent in an effort to further milk the land of its resources, were in the process of building the Kenya-Uganda Railway right in that spot. But something started interfering with their work...
More specifically, a number of workers started to go missing in the night... dragged off from their tents by two rogue cats... with a wholly uncharacteristic taste for man-flesh.
Unusual behavior, especially for male lions, who are more used to sleeping all day and letting their bi
tches do all the work. These guys didn't belong to any pride, though. Despite being the most dangerous and daring beasts in the wild, they didn't live like KINGS...
(He turns back to the lion carcasses, smiling in admiration.)
They were KILLERS
... to the muthafuggin' core.
And before they were finally stopped, they allegedly claimed the lives of some 135 men during a period of absolute terror where nobody felt safe. An entire EMPIRE'S attempt to expand was stopped dead in its tracks, and all because of two rebellious lions... TRUE agents of chaos.
(Rezin turns around to face the camera again, leaning on the glass so that the face of a killer looms just over his shoulder. He pulls out his one-hitter to puff on some putrid black pudding, which we can safely assume is NOT allowed in the museum.)
Amazing what fifteen minutes on Wikipedia can teach you... and yeah, I might have watched "The Ghost and the Darkness" over the past week. But this ain't no movie with Val Kilmer and Michael Douglas. Right now this Empire of Pro Wrestling has its own two lions of Tsavo wreaking havoc... in the form of 'Nark and myself. He's the Ghost... I'm the Darkness... and every dumb bastard in that locker room is there for us to feed upon.
We have no goals... no aspirations... our motivation is drawn solely on an instinctual and primal thirst for blood and carnage.
I'm not stupid enough to believe that this will last forever. Eventually, somebody will step up to hunt down the hunters when the damage has become to great to ignore... and eventually, through perseverence and practice, that person MIGHT just put a stop to our chaos. But at what cost? How many bodies will stack up before it's all said and done? How many LIVES can be destroyed and DREAMS shattered before it's all over?
(He smirks in such a manner that would make anybody want to punch the bastard in the face right then and there.)
I guess we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?
(Chuckling with an evil twist of humor, he takes a resin hit and hacks up a lung.)
I myself have been waiting a LONG time for the right time and circumstances to appear. Everybody else ignores the signs... but I see it all building up to something big. Something... people will REMEMBER. Anarky and myself are in a prime position to take this Empire by the throat and make it beg for mercy.
A pitiful request we will defiantly refuse
Our actions at Aggression 65 will pale in comparison to the reign of terror that awaits this federation. What we did to Cameron Cruise, we did to show everyone that mere words won't make us go away. We did it to send a message... that those who talk shi
(He holds up a couple fingers from his left hand, which are black and sticky with so much handling of melted pipe residue.)
...will EAT shi
t... and at the end of the day, it doesn't matter if you're the World Champion, the former World Champion, or the NEXT World Champion... you are fu
to the likes of us.
And this week in Chicago, the hunger will call once again... and a new message will be delivered. The Animezing Dragons are on the plate for us once again, and this time, they've got a KING in their corner. I guess that makes it a royal feast.
(He drops his shades to bear his bloodshot eyes to the viewing audience. Once cocky, he's now flipped emotions in a way that says he's through with fucking around.)
Hot Karl... Otacky... I sincerely HOPE that you don't let that last victory go to your head. You got my shoulders to the mat for three counts... but don't bullshi
t yourself into believing for a single moment that wasn't anything more than an act of luck. That night back in Detroit was simply a night where the sequence of events didn't really build up in my favor. Having babbled to no end about the unpredictable nature of this universe, I understand better than anybody else that sometimes, you gotta be the one that takes the fall. Such is a part of life.
The odds were already in your favor, being the reigning Tag Team Champions and having a longstanding partnership. 'Nark and I... we are not
a tag team. We have never considered ourselves to be partners, and we probably never will. We're just two badasses with a common enemy... and right now, a you guys happen to be that enemy... because no matter how much we rough you two bastards around, you still just won't give up and fade away into the void like good little lambs SHOULD.
There's one thing you should know about me when I lose, though: It pisses me off
... and when I get pissed off, I don't make mistakes; I make misery
(He takes a step closer toward the camera, and for now, we can be thankful that we can't smell through our televisions. Up close, Rezin looks downright hideous.)
Listen closely, you Rising Sun Runt... EYE
am this federation's high-flying sensation. ME
-- not you. When I go up top, it's ALL business... not some flippity-floppity-floop gymnastic crap! My aerodynamic asskickery is an ART... and when you interrupt the awesomeness that is my moonsault, and do your tacky little falling star flips, you INSULT my art! Try anything like that again, and I will ram these fingers so far down your throat, you'll feel them scratching your a
And as for you, Puff the Magic Dragon? The spinning heel kick is MY
ddamb move! You kick like a fu
ssy, anyway! You think you can be the Kung Fu Master of this Empire? THINK AGAIN, bloke! Your Dragon-style has NOTHING on my Shadow-style! You are Ralph Macchio, and I am a Sith Lord Ninja! Maybe I should personally remind you of that by KICKING YOUR HEAD OFF this week...
(He backs up and puts the shades back on, regaining some of his cool.)
Lastly, before I cut out of here, I guess I should address our returning "king"... "Triple X" Sean Stevens.
Forgive me, Trip, if I don't come right out and take a knee before your throne. You see... you didn't put any crown on your head at my expense. You haven't earned
my praise... so you probably shouldn't expect me to give it to you.
I can't say I'm all that surprised that you don't remember me. After all, a few years ago, a younger and much dumber Erik Black was probably thankful to jerk the curtains if it meant saving himself the fate of a superkick to the face. With all the important things that one has to give his attention when being "greatest professional wrestler in existence" or whatever, I guess there wasn't enough time to notice some punk-ass stoner goat bastard stinking up the locker room.
Did you ever even go IN the locker room, Trip? Or did you just stay in your private dressing room, away from all the unimportant riff-raff?
It wouldn't have mattered if you knew me then or if you've forgotten me completely in the time you've been out fu
cking a Batman villainess... because in case you haven't noticed, this is not the same kingdom you walked away from
a couple years ago. Erik Black smoked all his dope... and unfortunately for you and the rest of this Empire, something REZINOUS was scraped out of the dark corners of his mind.
And yeah, the World Heavyweight Championship has become mediocre. Look at the guys in the main event! The First? Biggest pu
ssy alive... had to hide behind a mask to get his belt back. And Layne Winters. Seriously, LAYNE WINTERS! Who's DI
CK did he have to suck to get a title shot!?
How does this surprise you? A person of your ego should have realized as soon as you left that there would never be a person that could possibly fill your shoes. I mean, come on... look at these feet...
(The camera pans down to get a glimpse of Rezin's bare feet. When was this last time this guy wore shoes?)
THESE are not the proud feet of a "king". These are the feet of a lowly peasant... a creeper through the mud and the dirt... and unimportant serf, with no value and no money. Not everybody in the world can be born into royalty... but hey, they get me to where I need to go. I'm just happy to HAVE feet!
All the same... I'm going to guide these feet into your handsome and perfectly royal face, Trip. Doesn't matter if you're a king or a peasant... a prince or a pauper... a man is a man, and a man can always bleed...
Get that camera back up here...
(The view rises back to its original position.)
I'm going to MAKE you bleed, King... or try to any way... and the reason why is because...
(this is going to sound familiar now)
...because I CAN
(Not being able to afford thunder SFX, our fanfare to this statement is limited to a growl from the Goat Bastard's stomach.)
And because I've ALWAYS wanted to kick a King right in the face!
I mean, is there any action that would be considered more defiant? Is there any better way to say "fu
ck you" to the people that think they hold all the power and authority in this world?
Everybody still remembers how when you came to this company, you were a head-strong rebel fighting against the powers in charge. Now here we are, years down the line... and you've declared yourself king and become the very thing you once denounced. Anarky and I? We're the rebels now... and unlike you
, we don't take paychecks from New Frontier.
On that subject, I doubt Anarky has any love for Craig Miles. If it weren't for that man putting his coin into the pocket of Ice Tre, it wouldn't have been Marcus Westcott you were defending your title against.
(See, SOMEBODY knows his history around here...)
Anyway, lets conduct a quick experiment here. Name five people -- FIVE, Trip... that's one hand -- who openly attempted to destroy this company from within. I mean, hell, you've seen it happen all the time, that should be no problem, right?
But maybe I've just burned away too many brain cells over the years, because when I put my mind to it, I can't think of anybody...
The guys in Anthology wanted to take this federation over... not destroy it.
Stalker's always been a destructive time bomb of douche-baggery, but he's always been clear that he wants to be at the top of the dog pile.
Turns out Copycat was only ACTING this whole time, you can't count him.
And Miles? Well... he doesn't really constitute as "from within", does he?
I dunno, Trip... I'm drawing a blank... and this is coming from a guy that's spent more overall time in this company than you. I mean, I may not be in the Empire Pro Hall of Fame... but I at least understand that this business is not and has NEVER been a one-man show. I've never been a World Heavyweight Champion, and I'm perfectly comfortable with the possibility of never being one...
You might think jobbers like me are just a dime a dozen... but there aren't many out there like me that can say we remember what it was like back in '04. I've been with this company a lot time. I've seen a lot of people come through the hallowed archways of the Empire... probably more than you, because bottom-feeders like me are good at noticing things that Kings never had the attention span for.
If ANYONE has ANY say as to whether this ship sinks or floats... it's ME, not you... because while I've never been the star attraction of the show, I've always
been here to jerk the curtain, do my part
, and let the show go on.
I hope you understand, Trip... this isn't a knock on who you are. You want to be Planet Earth's Champion? Knock yourself out. Just don't expect guys like 'Nark and me to give a shi
t... cause no matter who you are, like you said yourself, anybody can thrown an unseen haymaker and royally fu
ck up your day.
And while you've made a habit of avoiding that -- MOST of the time -- the two of us are untested opponents. As proud and confident as you choose to be, even you cannot admit you know exactly what's going to happen... especially in an environment of CHAOS
, which is exactly what a six-man tag can fall into given that many clashing egos thrown together in one ring.
, Trip... Kings are no different from other men.
(He knocks on the glass of the display, where the two lions gaze everlasting upon prey that our eyes can't see.)
It's survival of the FITTEST that separates the men from the bi
tchez... and 'Nark and me? We may not be kings... but we DO know how to survive in a scrap.
Can't wait to see you in the ring, King. Can't make any promises as to how much of I challenge I'll give you... but I CAN promise, either way, I'll keep it interesting for you...
(He lets out a dastardly laugh and takes one last hit off his one-hitter before slipping back into the murky shadows, leaving only noxious resin smoke in his wake. On the image of the two lions, our image slowly fades to BLACK.)