.::. Begin "Operation Bar Barossa" .::.

.:Prelude:. (November 20, 2008) 12:35PM EST

[-\\- He sits and he watches the events of the world unfold and come into fruition. He scrutinizes every detail of the infrastructure as it crumbles around him. The weight of the world holding him down, trapping him, as if he was one of the perilous lives lost in the hull of the U.S. Arizona, condemned by her cataclysmic and dramatic sinking, with the loss of 1,177 lives, during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, the event that brought about U.S. involvement in World War II. Still, his world turns ever after in a new day and era as he observes his surrounding. All that can be heard is the feint war cries of the dead or dying, often times drowned out by the ricochet of machine gun fire, the blasting of tank turrets, the stampeding of bombs and the revolting pierce of flesh and splatter of blood as the rounds leave their chamber and obliterate the livelihood of their targets. Does he faulter in this time of turmoil? Does he advance on his enemy with the sound of ammunition ringing in his ears? Does he fall back into cowardice and relive his judgment day? Does a man continue to fight for naught or does he simply tuck his tail between his legs and surrender? In our time of war only one side can answer such conspicuous questions. As the protagonist army advances on it's next victim, do we ask our heroes of war a question they cannot answer? Or do we turn to the antagonistically red army and set forth our interrogation and catechize? The answer truly is devoid of all meaning. For it does not matter which way this unit runs, whether it be onward or backward, the end result is the same... a predestined outcome that cannot imaginatively be avoided. And as one's life hangs in the balance, we find ourselves asking still, do you choose life or death? Unconditional surrender or annhilation? Infamy or history? And on this new day of infamy, we care not which prerogative the side will deem chosen. No choice, put into conjecture will change one's outcome of a total and all-out war, ending in defeatism. Because as the Blitzkreig once again rains down upon our lives... we ask not Joseph Johnson of his decision to surrender or relinquish life... we ask that of Dylan Thompson. Because it is not Joseph Johnson who we find clinging to his trenches of life, waiting for the constant bombardment of death and firepower to subside. Nor is it he that we find clinging to his cross praying for hope, for salvation in this time of war. It is not Joseph Johnson whom we survey in this time of crisis, in this time of agony. For our eyes are fixated on Dylan Thompson. Our eyes peer into his last moments as we take our seats and enjoy the feint war cries of the dead or dying, often times drowned out by the ricochet of machine gun fire, the blasting of tank turrets, the stampeding of bombs and the revolting pierce of flesh and splatter of blood as the rounds leave their chamber and obliterate the livelihood of their targets... As we enjoy the last moments of Dylan Thompson; as we savor the final moments of our confrontation between glory and cowardice; as we enjoy the finale of our path through war; as we appreciate the final remnants of the next victim of one Joseph Johnson; as we relish in the light of the now deceased, the now conquered, the now defeated... Dylan Thompson... -//-]

:. End Prelude .:


.:Inside the Mind:. (November 20, 2008) 12:35AM EST

[-\\- The human mind is one of the most fascinating phenomenons ever to exist. Collectively referring to the aspects of intellect and consciousness manifested as combinations of thought, perception, memory, emotion, will and imagination. The mind is the stream of consciousness. It includes all of the brain's conscious processes. In popular usage mind is frequently synonymous with thought: It is that private conversation with ourselves that we carry on "inside our heads." Thus we "make up our minds," "change our minds" or are "of two minds" about something. One of the key attributes of the mind in this sense is that it is a private sphere to which no one but the owner has access. No-one else can "know our mind." They can only know what we communicate. However, you are about to meet a man that will take you deep inside his thought process, deep "inside the mind," giving you access to his communications of thought. -//-]

( ( ( Inside the mind of one, Joseph Johnson, we can vividly watch the dreams, thoughts, and ideas race through one's head.... On a warm summer afternoon in the Gulf of Mexico, in a time of war a fleet of ships convoys to meet it's enemy. On one side we have the grandeur, the United States of America, headed by a strategic, advantageous, and cunning General, Joseph Johnson. On the other side is the Job Squad, a loosely strung together fleet of ships each headed by their own individual Perennial All-Pro Jobber, such as the likes of Brandon Blades, Mr. Man, Dylan Thompson, Hugh Kendricks, and well Brandon Blades again. As the vessels of our grandeur flow over the warm waters of the gulf, splashing water skyward in a wave of white mist. In the distance appears a presumable wave of destruction as black smoke billows out port by port along the coast of Mexico. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson All hands on deck! Man your stations! We're going to send the enemy to the depths! Onward men, onward! Blast the enemy into oblivion! Starboard side, prepare to launch a torpedo offensive! We can't let the enemy get any closer!

Admiral But captain, this fleet poses of no threat to us. Why can't we just let them, I don't know, swim away?

Joseph Johnson Are you insane man?! Thats the Dylan Thompson and Hugh Kendricks Royal Navy! Don't dare cast any disrespect on our enemies of war! If you don't take these guys out now they'll send each and every one of us down to the crushing depths of Davy Jones locker!

Admiral But capatin, they don't even have any missiles! They don't have anything but paddles! They be a row boat and a few sails!

Joseph Johnson Oh is that what they be, Admiral?! Questioning my authority, is that what.. you be?!

( ( ( Joseph Johnson pulls out a semi-automatic gun and shoots at the weary admiral. He shoots him full of holes and then in an instant the body disappears and a new Admiral is there to take his place. Johnson looks perplexed and doesn't know what to make of this vivid imagination. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Soldiers of the Amazion Army! The enemy walks among us! Fire on this Admiralty at once!

( ( ( The soldiers under Joseph Johnson command take out their weapons and fire away at the Admiral. Once again the dead body vanishes without a trace. This time, however, in it's place are two men in Admiral uniforms... they are ghostly figures of Joseph Johnson's opponents, Dylan Thompson and Hugh Kendricks. They are pale in nature and look as if they have been dead at sea for years. ) ) )

Admirals You can't defeat us both, Johnson. By Night of Kings end you will fall and your empire in the world of professional wrestling will crumble...

Joseph Johnson AHHHHHH! Zombies!!!!! Fire alllllllll!!!!!!!!!!!!

( ( ( Johnson and his soldiers open fire on the two ghostly figures, but the bullets fly right through them. Most of the firing comes to a hault, except for Joseph Johnson who continues to expend his ammo on them. He finally stops and turns around to find that his entire army has vanished He turns back to the ghostly foes... ) ) )

Admirals You're destiny as the World Heavyweight Champion will end... inside of a Box made solid from Glass... inside your deepest circle of hell....

Joseph Johnson The era of Joseph Johnson shall never end. It doesn't matter if I have to face each of you four times over in one night, this title isn't leaving my waist!

( ( ( Johnson's soldiers reappear and open artillery fire on the small fleet of small ships, completely destorying them all. As the fires of these ships burn, the soldiers turn back to Johnson and reveal that each and every one of them is now a ghostly image of either Dylan Thompson or Hugh Kendricks. Johnson turns and runs down the ship, which quickly turns into an aircraft carrier. He climbs into a bomber jet and speeds down the runway, taking off into the air. Johnson flies the bomber around his own fleet, scattering his weaponry over the ships. As the bombs explode into chaos over the gulf and ships begin their long journey to the bottom of Davy Jones locker, Johnson continues firing at everything he can see. He drops bombs on his own aircraft carrier, destorying it's very being. Once everything is gone and all that remains is the smoke billowing from the small fires on the water tops, Johnson sets his plane down on an island that has appeared out of no where. He hops out of his bomber and looks out at the destruction... ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Hmmm, finally. The nightmare is over...

( ( ( Johnson turns around once more and as predicted, Hugh Kendricks and Dylan Thompson's ghostly figures stand behind him. Johnson then looks up and the loud and violent explosion of an atomic bomb, a nuclear weapon, fills the Gulf of Mexico! As the nuclear explosion spreads throughout the Gulf... Joseph Johnson awakens in his bed, dripping with sweat from every pore of his body... ) ) )


.:nMw HeadQuarters:. (November 20, 2008) 10:35AM EST

( ( ( In the nMw Training Gym at nMw HeadQuarters in the city of brotherly love, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Inside the training grounds of the nMw stands the most ominous structure in the era of wrestling history. If you were to go through the chronicles of wrestling, no where would you find a more sinister structure. Imagine the fury of an entire Naval battle in the Gulf of Mexico, including a devestating atomic explosion. That is what awaits two competitors in the Glass Box. And as we speak, standing inside the unforgiving glass structure, one of hell's combatants stands, awaiting his turn at either glory... or punishment. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Dylan Thompson, I better than anybody know the horrors that await us at the Night of Kings. I better than you or anybody know the definitive suffering that we will anguish through on that fateful night. I better than any living, breathing, organism can understand the death, the destruction that awaits us inside of this menacing structure. Only I know the turmoil and casualty that can be found inside of this Glass Box. Make no error in judgment, make no mistake, this structure was not built merely to entertian. It was not designed merely to showcase a man's talents. It was not engineered to prove who the better man truly is. The Glass Box is of my innovative design, brought about not to bring about extinguishing end to parity, but to inflict unimaginable punishment and victimization to it's combatants. Not just to vitiate the losing entrant, but to wreak havoc on the mind, body, and soul of the victor as well.

( ( ( Joseph Johnson stands in the ring, his hands against the inner glass walls. On the outside is another, external, wall of glass. In the four corners are individual chambers of glass containing typical hardcore match weaponry. Then on the outside of this GLass Box is a rope ladder, hanging down of the structure. He gently brings his hand across the glass. He then takes his fist and slams it against it. The glass doesn't give way. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Three mammoth tons of unforgiving glass, designed to rip flesh, severe tendons, and mutilate the human body. Glass stretched skyward around the ring and then again on the outside, supported only by the delicate process of fusing it to a steel exoskeleton. The fear of the entire structure collapsing every time a body is rammed through the glass, sending a heavy downpour of glass fragmentations through the menacing structure. Imagine a world where every time you hit the surface, everytime u slimping put your hand to the mat or the floor, everytime you come into contact with the being that gravity shall pull our ravaged bodies too... every instant of contact, shall lacerate human flesh. And as the blood flows freely from every pore in your body, there is no escape from this sinister device. No way out from this execrable inequity. No salvation from the horrors of the Glass Box.

( ( ( Johnson takes a step back and kicks at the inner glass wall, shattering a panel of it. He makes his way through the shards of glass and into the outer area. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson The Glass Box, the definitive, greatest wartime weaponry objective since the famed, or infamous if your Japanese, Manhattan Project. To be completely honest with you Dylan, a nuclear haulocaust has nothing on this most devious structure. As the glass gives way around the rin, you find yourself in a new world of hell. Once again, surrounded by glass on all sides. You drag your bloodied carcauss through the ruins of the glass wall you just went careening through, finding yourself once again with glass walls on every side. You turn and turn, but there is still no escape, spinning rapidly in circles, trying to find a way out, you once again find yourself in the form of a javelin, this time forced head first through the glass walls of a smaller, internal chamber in the structures corners.

( ( ( Johnson kicks his way through the internal chamber walls. He removes a few jagged shards of glass from the steel skeleton and ventures inside the individual chamber. Inside his a most devestating weapon, a barbed-wire covered sledgehammer. He takes it with his right hand. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson And inside of these internal chambers, lies not hope, not salvation, for more tools to inflict unimaginable carnage on the human body. Four corners, four individual chambers, four perilous flights through the plate of glass as you uncover new ways to punish the human mind. Whether it be a table, a ladder... a kendo stick... a trash can... or the infamous barbed-wire sledgehammer. Now, all that you have come to fear the most, the glass chambers, turns its destructive nature onto you in unbearably wicked ways. No longer can you abstain solely from the glass, as you find yourself on the run from the deadly Desensitizer 1378428468, the dreaded sledgehammer from hell, fashioned in the most barbarous and bloodthirsty barbed-wire ever crafted.

( ( ( He holds the hammer high, toying with it's rigid, jagged wires. He's almost mesmorized by it. Can it be true that such a technically sound wrestler can be as blood thirsty as this? ) ) )

Joseph Johnson The deadliest war path since Operation Bar Barossa. There will be mass casualty taking place inside of this structure. In an environment of this nature, the wounded can do nothing more than consider themselves lucky. Lucky that they still have the flow of air coursing through their body. Lucky that they have the virtue of sight. Lucky that they still have the undying magic of tase. Thankful, that they have the never ending quality of sound. To the victor go the spoils of blood transfusions, or casts, or stitches, or life.... And the loser? The defeated entrant in this capsule of hell shall find himself absent his ears, absent his eyes, absent his mouth. They yearn for the things they can never again enjoy. Pleading for a miracle to once again bestow upon them the three greatest senses in our lives. But the Glass Box shows no mercy on it's victims, forcing them to walk the underworld blind... deaf... and dumb... so that all will know, this is Dylan Thompson, the Desensitized victim who thought he could take down the Glass Box.

( ( ( Joseph Johnson takes his deadly hammer and gives it a full swing through the outter glass wall. he gives it another swing and then walks through the doorway he has just created for himself. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Hell have no fury like the confines of the Glass Box, but say one can escape the sadistic nature of this structure. Say one can find a way out of Bar Barossa. Can this individual find hope, find salvation in this new world of chaos? To answer a question of this type is simple. From bell to bell, as the Glass Box rages, bestowing upon it's victim with blood, anarchy, pain, and most vigilently... death. From bell to bell, there is no escaping the mobocracy, the pandemonium, the ataxia. For even outside of this most devious configuration, there is no safety. The Glass Box will let you leave if you are willing to pay the price of a thousand shards of glass piercing the flesh of every vesicle of your body, but in time, even after this great sacrifice, the Glass Box shall heave you back into it's most sidious confines, once again ripping your tendoms through the plates of glass, leaving you to question exactly why you dared to escape the world of pain and agony.

( ( ( Johnson walks around the Glass Box, scrutinizing it's every detail, looking for a weakness. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson And as Operation Bar Barossa rages on outside of the fabrication of glass and steel, one can take the blood of war to new heights, climbing a ladder fashioned by rope that runs from Glass Box bottom to the skies above. And atop this conformation, twnety feet above the world you once found yourself ravaging war throughout, there is no where to go... but down. As you find yourself flying without wings off of this menacing structure, you ask yourself "why would I climb the ropes of hell? why would I test the laws of gravity? why would I try to defy the Glass Box?" and as the sickening thud of bones on concrete echoes throughout the arena, as the Glass Box lets out its sinister laugh, you will have realized that this is the end. There is no more chancing after this periliss descent. Life itself is now nothing more than a fond memory. A memory slowing creaping away from your soul. And as you now find yourself six feet under and the dirt piling on your body, you once again ask yourself... "Was it worth it?"

( ( ( Johnson stops his encirclement at the rope ladder. He drops his hammer to the floor and grabs hold of this old fashioned ladder. He prepares to begin his climb to the Glass Box's summit. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson But on the glass ceiling of this structure, there are more ways to go down than simply off the side and to the cold surface of cement. With the right amount of force, any one of these glass roof panels can shatter and give way to a long descent from the world above. As your mangled body crashes through the glass and smashes on the ring canvas, going limp on impact as the thousand shards of glass precipitate down onto your body, slicing your eyes and slitting your throat as it rains down on top of your umbrellaless body. Leaving you lifeless, prone to pinfall, prone to submission, prone to defeat. There are no possum tactics in the Glass Box... only suffering. And now as I climb the ladder, reaching the furthest heights of the Glass Box, I recite with thee, the seven pillars of success...

( ( ( Johnson takes one step skyward, one more step to his journey through hell. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Desire... to wish, to long for, crave, want it, need it... desire it. If you don't desire defeating not just your opponent, but the Glass Box itself, your very being shall go to waste, to rot as the crows feast on your morbid flesh after the slaughtering that has taken place inside of this house of horrors. Without having first desired an objective, such as victory, such as survival, there is no place in this match... only pain, only death. One must truly want to defeat the Glass Box at it's deadliest game. Without desire, even the most able man becomes nothing more than deer in the headlights of the Glass Box. And as the box speeds onward, it's lights growing, does a deer that desire's life move? Or does it stay? With death three seconds away, only those who genuinely desire life or victory, shall save themselves from this cruel fate.

( ( ( Johnson takes his third step skyward, another step on this journey in search of salvation. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Attitude... the manner, the disposition, a feeling, all in regard to a living person or being. A negative attitude of being placed in an environment as sinister as this well condemn a man long before the Glass Box lowers into place around them. A fearful pigeon, caged in a house of glass, doomed to fly headfirst into the glass day after day, hour after hour... minute... after minute. Those too fearful of the Glass should consider not even daring to enter it's confines. For the Glass Box, it can smell your fear. It can sense your attitude. An attitude of fear, or sorrow, is just another doomed soldier, waiting for another deadly attack in Operation Bar Barossa. But those of excitement, or joy, of knowing that history and destiny awaits them... will earn the respect of their captor. The Glass Box feasts on fear, on negativity. It devours those without so much as a chance of escape.

( ( ( Johnson takes his second step skyward, one more step along the path of Bar Barossa. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Knowledge... acquaintance with fact, with truths, with principles, done so from the study of investigation and education. Knowing what you're getting yourself into may in ways be the scariest of all keys. Knowing that death, turmoil, and utter chaos awaits in the house of horrors can cripple many other keys to success, such as attitude, but if you can balance these keys, knowledge may be the most important. Having knowledge of the events and actions that will come before you allows you to act on instinct... allows you to act without entering any trains of thought, without allowing your mind to confuse or distract you. Knowledge is the key. Whether it be knowledge of the Glass Box itself, or of the tendencies of the opposition you will come to find in hell's kingdom. There is no unnecessary knowledge in this game.

( ( ( Johnson takes his fourth step skyward, now over halfway through his figurative Russian Revolution. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Patience... an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay. Not all can go your way in the Glass Box, and when the fabrics of your plan of attack descend into chaos, only with patience can one survive this grueling contest. To say that a Glass Box Match is back and forth would be an under statement. At one moment a competitor will find himself thrown through a glass wall. One minute later, his opposition could find himself thrown off the Glass Box itself. Patience is not only a key, but a virtue. Waiting for the match to turn back your way may sound like a foolish defensive strategy that will lead you to devastating defeat. But this is not a typical wrestling match. This match requires very little wrestling in fact, as one man dominates his opposition, the match can and will turn, almost as if it's wished upon by the Glass Box itself. The key is to be patient and wait for the house of horrors to give you the opportunity you strive for.

( ( ( Johnson takes his fifth step skyward, nearing the dangerous peaks of despair. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Endurance... the ability or strength to continue or last, despite fatigue, stress, or other adverse conditions. To speak of the Glass Box as an understatement is to speak of Brandon Blades being only a little annoying and only a little idiotic. The Glass Box, the most adverse conditions since Hiroshima and Nagasaki, knows nothing of gentle, knows nothing of relaxation, knows nothing of the phrase "go easy." To survive a match of the magnitude, you must endure. You endure ungodly casualty, you must endure unbelievable thresholds of pain. You must be able to endure death itself and spit on the white lights at the tunnels end. If you can not find the ability to endure the countless injuries you will find upon yourself in the Glass Box, you might as well petition the nMw Front Office to remove yourself from this match immediately. There is no room for those who lack an above-human level of endurance.

( ( ( Johnson takes his sixth step skyward, leaving just one rung on the ladder as he climbs the adjoined ropes of death and destiny. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Optimism... A tendency to expect the best possible outcome or dwell on the most hopeful aspects of a situation. In a horror show such as the Glass Box, it would be vastly illadvised to focus or dwell on pessimistic ideas. Knowing that things could go wrong, knowing that you could lose more than just this match, is the gateway to the cripts of hell. Believing you can win, believing in hope and of success in the deadliest battle on Earth, believing you can withstand Operation Bar Barossa is one of the most significant keys to overcoming an obstacle as taxxing as the Glass Box. The Soviets believed in a positive outcome, they smashed through the glasses of war and of death and dared to walk on the other side. They dared to believe it was their destiny to revolutionize the eastern front and defeat all who hazarded to threaten thee. And in the end, despite the evil that the Soviets themselves would create... through optimism they vanquished the evils of Operation Bar Barossa.

( ( ( Johnson takes his seventh and final step skyward, reaching the pinnacle of the Glass Box, the pinnacle of Operation Bar Barossa, the final resting places of more than 20 Million lives... ) ) )

Joseph Johnson Preparation... a preliminary measure that serves to make ready for something. As simple as it sounds, an entire key to success devoted to simple preparation. All that is not yet prepared when you enter this Glass Box shall remain that way. There is no stopping to adjust an elbow pad. No time-outs to fix your boot laces. There is no chance to lie on the mat and plan your next move. Prepare yourself in evey way you can. Leave nothing undone. With Operation Bar Barossa underway and the attack of Stalingrad looming, did the Soviets sit back? Did they wait on a pending attack? Or did they prepare, did they sink their feet in, prepare defenses, prepare every soldier to fight to the best of his abilities? Through preparation the Soviets, while on the brink of defeatism, expelled the vile natures of Operation Bar Barossa. And through these seven keys to success, an army of one can rise above and expel the savage ideologies of the Glass Box. Through these seven steps, even a perennial all-pro jobber like Dylan Thompson or Brandon Blades himself could overcome the vanity of evil...

( ( ( He walks on top of the glass ceiling. He peers down through glass that can crack beneath him at any second. But Joseph Johnson is not a man of fear. He is not a man who lacks desire, nor endurance, nor optimism, nor patience, attitude, preparation, or even knowledge. Joseph Johnson is the keeper of the seven keys, the keeper of one's destiny. He is a force just as strong as just as powerful as the very structure he now stands on, the Glass Box. In an image that closely resembles Zeus himself riding a top a Titan, Joseph Johnson stands strung out in glory. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson But even with my keys to victory, there comes a time when a man such as Dylan Thompson is just flat-out overmatched. In an environment such as this, a handicap match where myself and my ally the Glass Box will inflict devestating punishment on his life. So I ask you this one final question, Dylan.... Can you see the famed white lights yet, Dylan? Your human livelihood is on life support. You're seven clicks away from Joseph Johnson pulling the plug. There's no point in giving respects now, there's no point in paying tribute, cuttin deals, or even simply fighting back this force. The white light is coming for you, it doesn't matter how braevely or how fiercely you fight it. You day of reckoning is upon us and I don't care what you do or what you say, there's no escaping it. So save your fucking pleasantries, your tombstone has already been built, your grave already dug, your ticket has been punched Dylan. Seven days to Judgment Day, make your final peace with your loved ones. Give them a lasting image of their son, brother, or what have you. Let them see you in one final light, because believe me, when we bury you, it won't be open casket. At the Night of Kings, the Glass Box makes it's debut into wrestling lore, taking you as it's first victim, Desensitized of your every being. All things being equal Dylan, myself... and the Glass Box... are greater...

( ( ( In the final moments, Joseph Johnson stands still in his glory atop the Glass Box. The scene fades to darkness as a loud and sinister laugh is heard... could this be the Glass Box itself? ) ) )





.:Epilogue:. (November 20, 2008) 10:50PM EST

[-\\- The time for talking is at it's coda. Joseph Johnson knows what awaits for him in the house of horrors, in the Glass Box. He knows there will be pain, he knows there will be bloodshed, he knows there will be suffering. But to be fair, Joseph Johnson does not care. He welcomes these feelings of agony. He knows that every great man must face turmoil at one time in one's life. Because without chaos, who would enjoy the calm and gentle moments? Without putting in the hard work, without surviving all of this affliction, what is the point of calling yourself a World Heavyweight Champion? The more pain you go through, the more you suffer, the more you care that you have accomplished your goals. Operation Bar Barossa may have been a failure, which to be realistic here... thank God it was a failure.... But now two men will compete in a new arena of Bar Barossa. An arena that no German, Italian, Finish, or Soviet could have ever imagined. For these two men, Joseph Johnson and Dylan Thompson... shall rage their wars inside the confines of the Glass Box Match... -//-]

:. End Epilogue .:

.::. End "Operation Bar Barossa" .::.