[Black.]
# RISE!
[Your ears are assaulted by the opening strains of Lamb of God’s “Again We Will Rise.”]
# Store-bought attitude and spit,
# a sugar-coated piece of ****.
# An instant rebel, just add greed.
# Another useless commodity.
# Broken glass and a broken jaw,
# lies are told in a southern drawl.
# Poor-house poverty's your schtick,
# the real thing would kill you quick.
[Your senses are dulled by the full frontal assault of the music. There is a deep-seeded rage there indicative of everything we stand for.]
# Rise, again we will rise!
# Rise, again we will rise!
[Everything we stand against.]
# Blood and fire used to fill the night,
# burnt and drowned by our very lives.
# You missed a sinking boat by years,
# dollar signs, crocodile tears.
# It's over now, and long has been.
# Those days are gone,wont come again.
# Another name crossed off the list,
# the real thing would kill you quick.
[Just think about all of those lame duck Champions and contenders.]
# Rise, again we will rise!
# Rise, again we will rise!
# There's nothing for you to fight against,
# you're so unreal it's evident.
# You'll never be one of our kind,
# this ain't yours, **** you don't try.
[From R.J. Harris and Terrence “Twister” Thompson to Aerius Hyrule and Brad Jackson. Men who claimed the rights of Champions at one time or another who did nothing more than piss on the legacy created and maintained by men and women of far greater worth.]
# The bridge was burnt before you could cross,
# you reap the benefits of what's lost.
# Go home son, hang your costume up,
# a ******* insult to the rest of us.
# A thousand-yard stare across the south,
# a full belly and a lying mouth.
# Momma's boy plays heretic,
# The real thing would kill you quick.
[Bile rises in your throat as your eardrums corrode. The mere thought of said pathetic “champions” turns your mind to all of those failed experiments of so-called Events. From The Harvest to the Crown of War, and most assuredly to the sad excuse of a Summer Games that you have most recently had forced down your throat.]
# Rise, again we will rise!
# Rise, again we will rise!
[Before you know it your fist is in the air, pumping in rhythm to the music. Your head bangs, and your thoughts go wild with possibilities. You want to rage against the abuse, the apathy, the pure complacence of it all. There MUST be a movement! Mustn’t there? We can be expected to continue to deal with this sad excuse for an Alliance, can we?]
# There's nothing for you to fight against,
# you're so unreal it's evident.
# You'll never be one of our kind,
# this ain't yours, **** you don't try.
[Yes, there must. No, we can’t.]
[There is one thing...]
# **** you, don't even try.
# **** you, your time is nigh.
# **** you, I've had enough.
# **** you, your time is up.
[There is Defiance.]
[The music fades.]
[Your senses dull.]
[There must be something to ease your pain.]
[There must be someone...]
“Hello, World.”
[That voice. It could be only one.]
“Welcome to my Defiance.”
[The blackness is quickly and easily replaced by the overbearing visage of the one man who could possibly save this black hole of an Alliance. You don’t even need the rest of the fadeup before you’ve got a wet spot in your shorts at the mere idea that this represents.]
“Welcome to the end of the World Wrestling Alliance as you know it.”
[The Only Star.]
“I’ve sat by for too long. Too god damned long have I watched from the sidelines while morons and sycophants have spit in the face of the Alliance that I bled to build.”
[Eric Dane.]
“I tried to come back to be the hero. For all of my troubles I was embarrassed by the likes of Ryan Blasier, cheated by Victor Mandrake, and expunged from my career as the poster-boy for all that was right in the World Wrestling Alliance. And I endured it all, because I thought that the ends would justify the means...”
[He stands in front of you, cerulean eyes robbing you of the ability to look away.]
“In all of my years, through every violent moment of every title reign, I did everything in my power to bring this Alliance to the pinnacle of the profession that I love. And the payment for my sacrifice? I got to watch Ryan Blasier stamp every last modicum of respect that I helped build.”
[He is not dressed to fight, but to lead. An spectacularly cut silver suit frames his body, while his golden hair frames the most serious face that you’ve ever tried to forget. He rests easily on a new accessory, a black ivory cane in his right hand.]
[The former World Champion stands in silence for a moment, glaring at all those whom he abhors, letting his rage subside just enough to still be noticeable.]
“I am not here to wrestle.”
[Disgust.]
“I am not here to play politics.”
[Antipathy.]
“I am not here to play games.”
[Acrimony.]
“I am here, simply put, to right the wrongs that have been done to what is mine, the World Wrestling Alliance. And to steal a phrase from that bottom-dwelling boot-licker Ryan Blasier, I’m here to do it by any means neccesary.”
[Rage.]
“I will bring hell down on the Alliance, and I will purify it in blood. I have amassed my army, and together we will put this blight behind us.”
[He smiles a wicked smile.]
“Or we’ll burn it to the ground around us.”
[He pauses again, letting it all soak in.]
“There will be a reckoning, and it will start at the top and trickle all the way down until the last two years have been erased from the record books. My first challenge goes to the man who calls himself the World Champion, the cheap, low-rent version of my former self who calls himself Jack Amethyst.”
[His grin widens.]
“Jack. You’ve made a fortune on pretending to be me. You’ve made a career by going down the Eric Dane checklist one by one, you think you’re so smart...”
[One final pause.]
“I implore you, Jack, make your way to the first Defiance event, that way I can cripple you myself.”
[And with that he is gone. The transmission is cut, the challenge has been made.]
[Sooner rather than later, all that is wrong will be put right.]
[End.]
http://defiance.quirkycircle.com/home.php
# RISE!
[Your ears are assaulted by the opening strains of Lamb of God’s “Again We Will Rise.”]
# Store-bought attitude and spit,
# a sugar-coated piece of ****.
# An instant rebel, just add greed.
# Another useless commodity.
# Broken glass and a broken jaw,
# lies are told in a southern drawl.
# Poor-house poverty's your schtick,
# the real thing would kill you quick.
[Your senses are dulled by the full frontal assault of the music. There is a deep-seeded rage there indicative of everything we stand for.]
# Rise, again we will rise!
# Rise, again we will rise!
[Everything we stand against.]
# Blood and fire used to fill the night,
# burnt and drowned by our very lives.
# You missed a sinking boat by years,
# dollar signs, crocodile tears.
# It's over now, and long has been.
# Those days are gone,wont come again.
# Another name crossed off the list,
# the real thing would kill you quick.
[Just think about all of those lame duck Champions and contenders.]
# Rise, again we will rise!
# Rise, again we will rise!
# There's nothing for you to fight against,
# you're so unreal it's evident.
# You'll never be one of our kind,
# this ain't yours, **** you don't try.
[From R.J. Harris and Terrence “Twister” Thompson to Aerius Hyrule and Brad Jackson. Men who claimed the rights of Champions at one time or another who did nothing more than piss on the legacy created and maintained by men and women of far greater worth.]
# The bridge was burnt before you could cross,
# you reap the benefits of what's lost.
# Go home son, hang your costume up,
# a ******* insult to the rest of us.
# A thousand-yard stare across the south,
# a full belly and a lying mouth.
# Momma's boy plays heretic,
# The real thing would kill you quick.
[Bile rises in your throat as your eardrums corrode. The mere thought of said pathetic “champions” turns your mind to all of those failed experiments of so-called Events. From The Harvest to the Crown of War, and most assuredly to the sad excuse of a Summer Games that you have most recently had forced down your throat.]
# Rise, again we will rise!
# Rise, again we will rise!
[Before you know it your fist is in the air, pumping in rhythm to the music. Your head bangs, and your thoughts go wild with possibilities. You want to rage against the abuse, the apathy, the pure complacence of it all. There MUST be a movement! Mustn’t there? We can be expected to continue to deal with this sad excuse for an Alliance, can we?]
# There's nothing for you to fight against,
# you're so unreal it's evident.
# You'll never be one of our kind,
# this ain't yours, **** you don't try.
[Yes, there must. No, we can’t.]
[There is one thing...]
# **** you, don't even try.
# **** you, your time is nigh.
# **** you, I've had enough.
# **** you, your time is up.
[There is Defiance.]
[The music fades.]
[Your senses dull.]
[There must be something to ease your pain.]
[There must be someone...]
“Hello, World.”
[That voice. It could be only one.]
“Welcome to my Defiance.”
[The blackness is quickly and easily replaced by the overbearing visage of the one man who could possibly save this black hole of an Alliance. You don’t even need the rest of the fadeup before you’ve got a wet spot in your shorts at the mere idea that this represents.]
“Welcome to the end of the World Wrestling Alliance as you know it.”
[The Only Star.]
“I’ve sat by for too long. Too god damned long have I watched from the sidelines while morons and sycophants have spit in the face of the Alliance that I bled to build.”
[Eric Dane.]
“I tried to come back to be the hero. For all of my troubles I was embarrassed by the likes of Ryan Blasier, cheated by Victor Mandrake, and expunged from my career as the poster-boy for all that was right in the World Wrestling Alliance. And I endured it all, because I thought that the ends would justify the means...”
[He stands in front of you, cerulean eyes robbing you of the ability to look away.]
“In all of my years, through every violent moment of every title reign, I did everything in my power to bring this Alliance to the pinnacle of the profession that I love. And the payment for my sacrifice? I got to watch Ryan Blasier stamp every last modicum of respect that I helped build.”
[He is not dressed to fight, but to lead. An spectacularly cut silver suit frames his body, while his golden hair frames the most serious face that you’ve ever tried to forget. He rests easily on a new accessory, a black ivory cane in his right hand.]
[The former World Champion stands in silence for a moment, glaring at all those whom he abhors, letting his rage subside just enough to still be noticeable.]
“I am not here to wrestle.”
[Disgust.]
“I am not here to play politics.”
[Antipathy.]
“I am not here to play games.”
[Acrimony.]
“I am here, simply put, to right the wrongs that have been done to what is mine, the World Wrestling Alliance. And to steal a phrase from that bottom-dwelling boot-licker Ryan Blasier, I’m here to do it by any means neccesary.”
[Rage.]
“I will bring hell down on the Alliance, and I will purify it in blood. I have amassed my army, and together we will put this blight behind us.”
[He smiles a wicked smile.]
“Or we’ll burn it to the ground around us.”
[He pauses again, letting it all soak in.]
“There will be a reckoning, and it will start at the top and trickle all the way down until the last two years have been erased from the record books. My first challenge goes to the man who calls himself the World Champion, the cheap, low-rent version of my former self who calls himself Jack Amethyst.”
[His grin widens.]
“Jack. You’ve made a fortune on pretending to be me. You’ve made a career by going down the Eric Dane checklist one by one, you think you’re so smart...”
[One final pause.]
“I implore you, Jack, make your way to the first Defiance event, that way I can cripple you myself.”
[And with that he is gone. The transmission is cut, the challenge has been made.]
[Sooner rather than later, all that is wrong will be put right.]
[End.]
http://defiance.quirkycircle.com/home.php
