.::. Begin "Operation Overlord" .::.

.:Prelude:. (November 23, 2008) 12:35PM EST

[-\\- As Operation Bar Barossa rages on, the dark abyss of death, decay, and destruction echoing throughout the chronicles of our time. As the blood spews, the tendons sever, the skin scarificate... as the minds of men cowher in fright, in fright of their enemy, in fright of their own dictacious rule, in fright of what awaits them on what may remain to be recognized as the last day of their lives. The cannons still thunder through the skies, the raids come by air, littering the world with flame, chaos, and devestation. The advancement flows almost unending, almost invincible. It flows through the streets, it flows alongside the intimidating images of tanks, of artillery, of death on wheels. No quarter is to be given, no simpify to be taken, no respect or dignity to be envoked upon another. But as Bar Barossa enters it's final hour, a second front inaugurates on the opposite side of an empire. Men say goodbye to their wives and enter the deadliest war story that will ever again be spoken of. As the tide rushes back into the ocean, as the winds calm to a rapidity lower than a common, gentle, breeze, as the sun slowly rises from the depths of the dying nighttime sky. As this battle of darkness and light comes to it's close, as the sun now shines down on the beaches at Omaha, Juno, Gold, Sword, Utah, and Pointe du Hoc... Generals send men to die in an effort to turn the pages of history. In order to write a new chapter, in order to allow our world to live for just one more day. The greatest amphibious assault ever imagined crosses over into absolution. The shores will turn to blood, the rains of Spring will turn to ash, the skies will turn to the clouds of death. And as the beach is flooded with the wicked flow of blood, an evil, unlike that of any other, will commence. The beaches, an empty canvas, will soon be painted with the pictures of a hundred thousand rotting corpses. One hunded thousand men of casualty, sprawled out in blood across a once calm and gentle territory of land. We ask ourselves again, why has our peaceful land turned to this tragedy? Why has the world we once lived in safely, now taken upon it a new and wicked image. An image of death, and image lacking all salvation, an image of war. But like I said, this was not always the way it was. For even hours prior to this bloody confrontation, looming over the gates of hell, there was peace. There was prosperity. There was a sense of direction. Laughter, fulfillment, joy. Just minutes before the first shot rung out over Bloody Omaha, there was conciliation. This era of time, at once long forgotten was truly 'calm before the storm.' -//-]

:. End Prelude .:


.:Out to Sea:. (November 23, 2008) 2:07PM EST

[-\\- Imagine the frightening sound of thunder, the sickly image sound of blood and dirt flying through the air as an explosion of war rocks the very fabric of your world. Imagine as your world tumbles into freefall, with no way to stop until you hit the pit of skulls below. Now picture yourself as you have finally hit bottom, and now must climb your way back to the lofty perch you once stood on, only to once again find yourself suffering from the deadly costs of war. An apocalypse even. Conjure up what you believe you might see when the world comes to a screeching hault, when time stops moving, when all your clock can read is the ghastly image of 'war.' Now that you have this image of debauchery, tell me, what images came before it? What were the final images of peace in this land of armaggeddon? Speak to me, what was your calm before the storm? -//-]

( ( ( The sun is high overhead of the Gulf of Mexico, warming the late autumn air and shining brightly, glistening off the water. The sea is nearly still, just a ripple of motion here and there as the warm waters begin their long cool down of winter. Not that the waters of the gulf will ever truly be cold. Out on this sea is a small boat, not far from land, and not cpable of going out much further without risk of capsizing under a big wave. On this small white sailboat is Joseph Johnson, decked out in all of his redneck fisherman gear. Next to him is fellow Explicit Content constituent, Shawn Cabalar. Shaun is also doing his best to get his redneck fisherman on. It is fairly obvious to even the Brandon Blades eye that the two are on a short fishing trip, trying to unwind before the big Night of Kings extravaganza event on Friday night. From the looks of things, the two have just stopped their boat and are now getting ready to cast off their lines and fight for the biggest catch of the day. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson I don't like worms. You do it.

Shaun Cabalar What kind of a man is afraid to touch a measly little worm?

Joseph Johnson The kind of man who doesn't like squishy, squirmy, disgusting things! Besides, you saw Men In Black, those things are going to end our world!

Shaun Cabalar These little things? Joey, man, how can a guy who lives in the same house as Jeronimo and Shawn Payne be afraid of a little ass worm?

( ( ( Shaun taunts Johnson with the worm, moving it close to his face and then back away. He pulls it back and then puts it right up in Johnson's face and Johnson knocks it flying off into the ocean! ) ) )

Shaun Cabalar Hey! What was that for?!

Joseph Johnson I said I didn't wanna touch it!

Shaun Cabalar Well, you didn't have to kill it! That little guy doesn't know how to swim!

Joseph Johnson Well, he can say hey to Davy Jones then. Now bait my hook.

Shaun Cabalar Ok Mr. World Champion, don't let it go to your head.

( ( ( Shaun puts a worm on Johnson's hook and Johnson casts off his line. Shaun puts one on his and puts his line out as well. ) ) )

Joseph Johnson This is like the calm before the storm.

Shaun Cabalar I know, in just a few minutes the fishies are gonna start biting like homeless guys eating Thanksgiving turkey bones out of trash cans.

Joseph Johnson No, not that. I mean, the calm before the Glass Box.

Shaun Cabalar Ah, give it a rest. It's Dylan Thompson. That's not a storm, that's the next best thing to Brandon Blades. You want a storm how bout you put that belt on the line, Joseph Johnson versus Shaun Cabalar? Hmmmm? Give the belt a little Vitamin C?

Joseph Johnson You haven't wrestled in three weeks, you're not even gonna be on the show at Night of Kings. How the hell can you get a title shot?

Shaun Cabalar I'm Shaun Cabalar, I get what I deserve, even without having to deserve what I deserve.

Joseph Johnson That made no sense...

Shaun Cabalar That's because Shaun Cabalar has yet to infect a girl with their daily dose of Cabalarness.

Joseph Johnson That must be it.... To be fair, Dylan Thompson isn't the storm, Shaun. The storm is the Glass Box. Dylan is just a little speed bump.

Shaun Cabalar I gotta give you credit, the Glass Box is the only good thing you have ever thought up in your life. And that's a fact.

Joseph Johnson My only great idea, and I ruin it by accepting two matches in one night.

Shaun Cabalar Ah, cry me a river. Hugh Kendricks is the real calm before the storm. That guy makes Dylan look good.

Joseph Johnson Hugh Kendricks is a fish out of water. He's in the wrong arena. If he thinks I'm going to go down for a three count from a shabby little punch to the jaw, he's got another thing coming. I don't care if he's Muhammad Ali, Mike Tyson, or Rocky Marciano. No body is going to knock me out with a stupid little punch. The nMw has no idea what I'm capable of right now. All they've seen are worthless opposition like Ripper and Brandon Blades slowing me down. All they've seen is me give myself a concussion on a ladder. Well, I got news for all of the doubters that think they can take a shot at their World Heavyweight Champion, the playground is closed and when you get in the ring with me from now on, don't expect to go down the kiddy slide, to climb the jungle gym, or play around in the ball pit, this isn't going to be fun and games anymore. I'll callus your skin worse than monkey bars on a rainy day. I can do more damage to a man's psyche than getting stuck in the tunnel slide when you're a 250 pound 10 year old. Shit, I can embarass you more than an involuntary erection in the men's locker room.

Shaun Cabalar Would you shut up?! It's hard to catch fish when you're putting them to sleep!

( ( ( Johnson can't help but stare at Shaun blankly, he doesn't know what to say to something like that. The sun is beating down on the two of them very intensely now, onsetting a few drips of sweat down their backs. Shaun takes out a Heineken and twists the cap off. He tilts it back against his mouth, letting the cold beer tastefully drain down into his body. Johnson, meanwhile, the non-alcohol drinker of the group, take out a boring bottle of water and downs a few sips of that. With each sip they take, their fishing lines remain stiller yet. But as they stop and set their drinks aside... well, you would assume something would happen because of the pattern of this speech, but we all cry wolf at sometime. ) ) )

As Operation Overlord commences on the shores of Normandy, once again his world is frust into war, thrust into... the Glass Box. .::. End "Operation Overlord" .::.