Re: P©X Championship: Chaos Chooses Stips - Payne v Chaos (c)
The screen is black, and the only thing that can be heard is the sound of the wind howling past the camera mournfully. As the camera slowly fades in, we see a half broken, flashing yellow light in the middle of an abandoned intersection. The wind blows the light about it's fragile harness, it seemingly about to be blown off at any moment. The camera pulls back from the light, and then moves slowly up and over it, showing an abandoned road leading off into the distance. The road is worn, cracked, and weather-beaten. The yellow line in the center of the road is barely visible in the setting sun, as a large figure clad in a black leather trench coat walks slowly towards the camera. Barely audible over the wind, is the sound of a heel grinding into the broken asphalt. The camera sweeps over the light, and then descends down upon the lonesome figure, before flying by him at a blur and heading towards the sun. The sun fills the screen as the background fades to white. Accompanying this is a high pitched whine. There is a burst of audio static as the camera shot changes to one of the middle of the intersection. The sound of boot heels grinding into the pavement grows steadily louder over the wind. Suddenly, that sound crescendos and stop abruptly, as two feet settle into the center of the intersection. The camera slowly pans up, revealing the man in the leather trench coat. He is wearing faded black jeans with a brown leather belt. Panning up over his stomach and chest, he is wearing a black shirt with black buttons, with the top few buttons opened, exposing part of a grim reaper tattoo on the left side of his chest, over his heart. The camera continues upward until the screen is filled with the sunglass wearing visage of JASON PAYNE. Payne silently looks to the left, and then slowly to the right. He then turns his head slowly to look straight ahead, but it appears he is not looking into the camera, but to whatever lies beyond.
Payne - "I am Jason Payne. Chaos, you have made this fact known to everyone within earshot. And while you have been partying, and living the high life in Vegas, and now in Cuba, I have been here. I have been in Payneville, preparing for our battle over the P©X Championship. You have gone to great lengths to show everyone that you are indeed prepared for this match. If this match is to be a Vegas show, then I suggest the odds are in your favor. What with your dancers, clever songs, and amazing voice over technology, I'm sure that what you have planned is the things that Academy Awards are made of. You have left me no doubts that your style is going to be your greatest offensive weapon against me."
Payne inhales sharply, curling his lip upward in slight disgust as his head tilts to the left in disappointment.
Payne - "I assume that this is where I quiver in fear of all that is great and stylish about you Chaos. I mean to have to face someone with your style, it's quite fearsome. I'm pretty sure that once I overcome your collection of 80's hair band LP's, your polyester pants from the disco era, and your sad devotion to hentai anime porn. I am sure there is no way on earth I could ever hope to overcome your intense version of the Hustle, your collection of unheard of 'B' movies that you have on Betamax, or your impressive collection of 8-tracks. Someone who has the sense of style that you do, surrounding yourself with all manner of beautiful Rockette Rejects who jumped at the chance to be seen on a wrestling promo so that they could get away from having their vagina's violated by midget porno actors while laying on their backs tying one arm off while shooting up heroin watching 'Sex and the City' reruns so they can imagine they are Kim Cattrall. Yep. That my friend is a most definite sense of style."
"You see Chaos, you can come out here and try and make a mockery of me. And while you might have some success in that, in the long run, it's not going to give you what you want. You use words like 'flash' and 'style' to try and define us. But the truth is, you don't have a ****ing clue as to what you're dealing with, so you're dancing around the issue. No pun intended. Chaos, you are big, strong, powerful. You have a keen intellect, and a knack for knowing when to strike. Here is the problem: so do I. You got a few inches and a few pounds on me, but if you think for one minute that matters, it doesn't. If you think your profound sense of style means something, and that it really effects me, again...it doesn't. If you think trying to contain what and who I am in one word such as 'Flash', then you have a more narrow mind than you are willing to admit."
Payne looks down to the pavement for a moment, and then looks back up. Reaching up slowly, he removes his sunglasses, revealing his green eyes beneath. He looks into the camera with a hard look. The lines on his face clear, the scars from a hundred battles etched across his forehead.
Payne - "Much like where I stand right now Chaos, both you and I are at a crossroad in our respective careers. The question is, where do we go from here? You come out here and talk about how I'm just 'flash', and have no chance against your 'style'. The only thing that's flashing here, other than this broken traffic light, is your championship reign. It's flashing before your very eyes because you know in your conscience that it's about to come to an end. And once it happens, and you pass this crossroad, you will find yourself sliding further and further into oblivion. While mine continues to rise. This is inevitable Chaos, and no amount of style you possess is going to keep the P©X Championship around your waist."
"Your actions in the ring, the history we share in that ring, these are the things that impress me Chaos. Your suits, your dancers, your ridiculous over the top choreography, that's not style. It's simply you trying to cover up the fact that you know that the man who is revolutionizing this business has you in his sights, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. How you must feel, to be helpless, watching a runaway freight train careening towards you, and you can't get out of the way. Facing down the inevitable. Perhaps if you're lucky, one of your dancers will save you from your fate. But I'm sure they'll be otherwise occupied when the moment of truth comes...all over their faces."
Payne still looks past the camera, to the horizon. He squints slightly, as if he sees something in the distance. He watches in silence for a moment, the wind rustling in the background, whipping his long hair around in a frenzy. His face then loses all expression as his eyes shift to the camera.
Payne - "Chaos, your musings do not amuse me. Everytime you open your mouth, your desperation, and your unpreparedness bare themselves like a stripper who claims she's doing it just pay her tuition. Continue to whore yourself with words Chaos. When the bell sounds, you will see the power, and the weight that action carry over mere words."
Payne slowly walks out of the shot. The camera turns to follow him as he walks off into the distance. As he walks further away, the camera slowly starts to levitate upwards, showing the long straight road that Payne has ahead of him. The shot pulls back slowly to widen, as the blink yellow light comes into the shot on the right, as Payne continues walking down the worn down road on the left. The wind continues to blow, causing the light to shake slowly from side to side. It flashes in a slow and steady rhythm, as if it has barely enough power to run. As Payne continues to walk towards the horizon, the yellow light suddenly stops blinking, and when that happens, the screen cuts to black.
