Post by rphoenix on May 7, 2006 5:19:22 GMT -5
You’re not familiar with me, for I am an anonymity, an outsider of the PCW. Stranger to most all of you, but the name of Rodney Phoenix will soon be recognized. Here in PCW I’ll illustrate to you in that very why I’m one of the best fighters to embrace this sport, and why I’m one of the most feared. I’m methodical and precise with my technique. Chris Crime and Mark Brown will soon come to realization, as will PCW very soon.
I have been labeled as a PCW rookie as soon as I stepped forth through the door. But what is a rookie? It’s a term that I dislike, as it does not apply to me by definition. As rookie states, An untrained or inexperienced recruit, or, An inexperienced person; a novice. Now there’s a sport definition, A first-year player, especially in a professional sport.
If the sport is professional wrestling, then rookie isn’t the proper word to use nor can you pertain it to me. For I’ve perfected my craft for almost 10 years. Don’t question me, don’t underestimate me, and don’t overlook me, for that would be your prime fault. Only a marginal of fighters have been talented enough to go toe to toe with me and be successful. I’ll challenge you, test you, but in all likelihood you will fail in the end. Whether you fall victim to the Point Blank DDT, where countless of foes have been struck down by this sadistic DDT, or you surrender to the Phoenix Deathlock, or even my favorite, the Sharpshooter, in the end I’ll choose your fate.
--------------------------------
It was a brilliant blue sky, packed with white bulging clouds lying still around the gleaming sun hanging high above. Another beautiful day in the City of Angels. Standing on my porch, I’m overlooking the street in front of my home. I’m dressed in a white t-shirt, black denim pants, and black biker’s steel toe boots. I stand there sipping a bottle of water. My face is concealed from the world with my blue hair hanging over my face, yet my eyes piercing through, staring out into the street.
Infrequently I’ll see a car drive down the street, other than that there is hardly any commotion outside in this small neighborhood. Silence is my best friend. For it gives me the courtesy to think as I begin to ponder my recent decisions.
“I’m back”, I tell myself, while taking another swig of my water bottle. My past memories run through my mind like a film strip of a movie, playing out my life and my career highlights. My career, my best moments, my worst moments, all generating different emotions inside me. A decade of memories of my former glory, I have experienced everything, what is there left for me to do? I already have achieved everything that I’ve wanted and then some. But Passion is a strong feeling, overpowering, love for what I do. My passion for this sport is what keeps driving me back to that ring, to perform at what brings me the most joy.
Inside my pants pocket begins to vibrate which halts my chain of thoughts. I thrust my hand into my pockets clutching my phone. I take out my Samsung sleek black phone and gaze into the small multihued screen. It presents a new text message from a nameless source, but one I know well, and impatiently I open and read the new text message.
“PCW: Triple threat match, you, Chris Crime, Mark Brown. Good Luck”
As my concerted overseeing eyes looks back over this message for a third time, it finally registers in my mind and summons a smile across my face. For it’s been a long time coming for me to, once more, perform at what I do best. I’ve been missing for awhile, always looking for that one day to ultimately mark my comeback. Merely this time I’d try something different, and sign a contract to a fresh new league. A League that is unfamiliar to me, full of fresh new faces, and a chance to yet again attest, to myself and furthermore to others, why I proclaim to be the best at what I do.
Out from no where a sound piercing my ears beckoning from high above. I know what it is as I’ve heard it numerous times before. The sound of a enormous black bird, flapping her wings elegantly as she drifts by the lone tree standing tall in my front lawn. It’s her. The Raven that has been following me ever since I can commit to memory. It’s one of my few friends in this world, a bond or friendship even I don’t know how it commenced, one I cannot disobey from of even if I wished it. I have a theory to why the Raven is constantly following me. That the Raven is somehow interlaced to my conscience, and makes me aware of a moral or ethical aspect to my conduct with the urge to prefer right over wrong. Though I tend to fall to the wrong side of any given situation. Sound Crazy? Maybe I am a little, that I won’t deny. But the connection is there, like are souls are one, our minds are one, I can’t figure it out, but I can’t deny it.
The Raven clings to a tree branch and timidly looks at her surroundings. I’m still looking on as I maintain sipping on my half empty water bottle with curiosity. Time is not significant here, I can stand here the entire day if that’s what I wish to do. This is my time to cogitate on my past, and my future. I cannot rush into things, or make hasty decisions. Joining PCW was a well thought out decision which took hours of deliberation just standing in this very same spot on the porch, drinking a similar water bottle, and reading what the Raven had to show me. Then it all became clear, crystal, and now I’m here, mentally preparing myself for battle.
What follows next, I speculate. which path to take into PCW? I’m not known, so my past legacy wouldn’t be legitimate to people’s eyes, unless they knew me from the IWL, where I’ll soon be inducted into the Hall of Fame in due time. I will strike trepidation throughout the PCW, not through demoralizing tactics or spineless attacks, but through my untouchable talent. In that ring, I’m the doctor and you’re my patient. I’m cold and calculated. I’m precise with my moves, as a doctor would be during a surgery. I’ll cut you down, dissect you, stretch you, and make you undergo extensive pain. There’s a immense possibility that you will bear injuries by my hands, but I don’t care about you, your well being, your career, your family, or your life. I’ll persecute you and stretch you with a vast listing of my submission moves. No matter how tough you are, or think you are, no matter how resilient you are, no matter who you are, once your trapped in the middle of the ring, enduring the most horrific pain your ever undergone, you’ll eventually surrender and tap out, or go unconscious. Bottom line, I’ll break you.
I’m one the finest technical fighters you’ll ever embark on. I’ll answer you move for move, and fling moves at you, you’ve never seen before. I know how to evade you, and I will counter you until the end of time, which will frustrate you. I’ll get inside your head and toy with you. Why am I so confident? Because I’ve been doing this for years. I’ve trained with the best, I’ve fought the best, and with my knowledge, my experience, I have perfected my craft and I AM the best!
Another ear-piercing croak from the Raven travels with the wind, as my concentration is momentarily broken. I understand what the Raven just shown me, or rather felt what the Raven just shown me. My egoistical mind needs to concentrate on other matters at hand, like my next opponents in PCW, Chris Crime and Mark Brown.
For I’ve been thrown into a contest with two other men. PCW has granted me to showcase what I can do. This is MY opening to reveal to the rest of PCW just what kind of fighter I am, what I’m capable of. That’s the problem right now which I will eventually resolve. PCW doesn’t know me so there are no feelings towards me, no expectations, nothing. Not even fear. For if you knew me, you’d fear me, and you’d stay away and hope to never be in the opposite side of the ring with me. Chris and Mark, regardless of what I may state, will not understand that until the sound of the bell which initiates our match. And when the match is concluded, then that’s when they’ll realize. I’ll make believers to the fans, the PCW roster, one way or another.
Who is Chris Crime? This is my analysis of him off a small amount of known information. From what I gather your name is Chris “X” Crime, deplorable name with the “X” in your name that carries no significance. Now your 27 years old and the one thing I distinguish from your past is you and a few friends kidnapped a poor homeless man, one of you ejaculated on his face, and did I mentioned you kicked his poor dog. What can I say to that one? What would anyone say? Your weak. Thrashing on defenseless people, kicking poor powerless animals, shows your character’s strength. Your pathetic. The way you behaved toward him shows me you that you need to fit in, and attack individuals just for acceptance, to be known.
I then remember the words being said of Chris Crime, which then paints a clear picture, gives me a better perceptive.
“It seems pretty pitiful right? That isn’t the case here is it? That is life my friend, you go with the flow and when an opportunity arises you strike and hope to find another opportunity. Between these moments of opportunity you work to remain in the same category you’ve made yourself become. I am Chris ‘X’ Crime, and I am just waiting…”
So that’s your life? Waiting for more opportunities sitting in that van with your pitiable friends, for what? You’ll never mount to anything beating on frail weak individuals and small animals my friend. If that’s the category you want to remain in and wait for the next moment, then that’s your problem, don’t try to justify it either, for people with morals do not care. This is the life of Chris “X” Crime. How pathetic.
I continue watch the Raven as I douse another sip from my water bottle. She leaps and skips along some branches of the tree, nervously aware of her surroundings. The tree is her domain, she rules and may no other bird or flying creature dare cross her threshold of her kingdom. I continue to think to myself. An image unfolds in my mind. A square. Ropes on all sides. Ah yes, the squared ring. For years I’ve shown my supremacy to countless of people. The ring is my realm, and in PCW I’ll shall let it be known as I rise to the pinnacle of this company.
Then the eyes pierce my mind. I find myself staring into the beady eyes of the Raven as she is perched their staring into me. Suddenly I shiver rises up my spine. Then I settle down as I break free of this trance, and look down to stare at my near empty water bottle. Mark Brown then comes next in my mind.
Another individual I know nothing of. I hate not knowing the tendencies of others, but this is to be expected when I move into uncharted territory. Mark Brown. Considering from my diminutive knowledge of the two, I find Mark Brown to be more of concern, if any, than Chris. A depressed man who had to go through life imitating he was happy, but in the end he was in actual fact empty and all alone. Despite of his marginal success as a wrestler, even winning PCW World Tag Team Championship, this couldn’t expunge his miserable and lonely adolescent years.
Having full of spite and hatred for most everyone, can cloud your judgment, and confuse you in any given scenario. His meaningless talent as a wrestler is now perhaps tarnished, and the fighter he once was is no longer. For he might have had that same passion for wrestling that continues to burn inside me, but now he’s just a shell of his former self. Pitiful.
What’s more disgraceful is that PCW hierarchy knows the talents that I possess, even knowing of some of my legacy, yet they put my name down for a match with two feeble individuals. All I can say for Chris Crime and Mark Brown, that come this Tuesday, “There Will Be No Mercy”.
As I kill the remaining water left in my bottle, out of the corner of my eye I watch the Raven take flight into the air. I set down the empty plastic container and stare into the sky as the black figure of a bird dissipates into the white feathery clouds. Then my phone again vibrates hysterically. I take the phone from my pockets and view the vibrant screen. It’s in incoming call from the same person who text messaged me previously. I push the green talk button with my thumb on my phone and then press the phone to my ear.
“Hello..?”
I have been labeled as a PCW rookie as soon as I stepped forth through the door. But what is a rookie? It’s a term that I dislike, as it does not apply to me by definition. As rookie states, An untrained or inexperienced recruit, or, An inexperienced person; a novice. Now there’s a sport definition, A first-year player, especially in a professional sport.
If the sport is professional wrestling, then rookie isn’t the proper word to use nor can you pertain it to me. For I’ve perfected my craft for almost 10 years. Don’t question me, don’t underestimate me, and don’t overlook me, for that would be your prime fault. Only a marginal of fighters have been talented enough to go toe to toe with me and be successful. I’ll challenge you, test you, but in all likelihood you will fail in the end. Whether you fall victim to the Point Blank DDT, where countless of foes have been struck down by this sadistic DDT, or you surrender to the Phoenix Deathlock, or even my favorite, the Sharpshooter, in the end I’ll choose your fate.
--------------------------------
It was a brilliant blue sky, packed with white bulging clouds lying still around the gleaming sun hanging high above. Another beautiful day in the City of Angels. Standing on my porch, I’m overlooking the street in front of my home. I’m dressed in a white t-shirt, black denim pants, and black biker’s steel toe boots. I stand there sipping a bottle of water. My face is concealed from the world with my blue hair hanging over my face, yet my eyes piercing through, staring out into the street.
Infrequently I’ll see a car drive down the street, other than that there is hardly any commotion outside in this small neighborhood. Silence is my best friend. For it gives me the courtesy to think as I begin to ponder my recent decisions.
“I’m back”, I tell myself, while taking another swig of my water bottle. My past memories run through my mind like a film strip of a movie, playing out my life and my career highlights. My career, my best moments, my worst moments, all generating different emotions inside me. A decade of memories of my former glory, I have experienced everything, what is there left for me to do? I already have achieved everything that I’ve wanted and then some. But Passion is a strong feeling, overpowering, love for what I do. My passion for this sport is what keeps driving me back to that ring, to perform at what brings me the most joy.
Inside my pants pocket begins to vibrate which halts my chain of thoughts. I thrust my hand into my pockets clutching my phone. I take out my Samsung sleek black phone and gaze into the small multihued screen. It presents a new text message from a nameless source, but one I know well, and impatiently I open and read the new text message.
“PCW: Triple threat match, you, Chris Crime, Mark Brown. Good Luck”
As my concerted overseeing eyes looks back over this message for a third time, it finally registers in my mind and summons a smile across my face. For it’s been a long time coming for me to, once more, perform at what I do best. I’ve been missing for awhile, always looking for that one day to ultimately mark my comeback. Merely this time I’d try something different, and sign a contract to a fresh new league. A League that is unfamiliar to me, full of fresh new faces, and a chance to yet again attest, to myself and furthermore to others, why I proclaim to be the best at what I do.
Out from no where a sound piercing my ears beckoning from high above. I know what it is as I’ve heard it numerous times before. The sound of a enormous black bird, flapping her wings elegantly as she drifts by the lone tree standing tall in my front lawn. It’s her. The Raven that has been following me ever since I can commit to memory. It’s one of my few friends in this world, a bond or friendship even I don’t know how it commenced, one I cannot disobey from of even if I wished it. I have a theory to why the Raven is constantly following me. That the Raven is somehow interlaced to my conscience, and makes me aware of a moral or ethical aspect to my conduct with the urge to prefer right over wrong. Though I tend to fall to the wrong side of any given situation. Sound Crazy? Maybe I am a little, that I won’t deny. But the connection is there, like are souls are one, our minds are one, I can’t figure it out, but I can’t deny it.
The Raven clings to a tree branch and timidly looks at her surroundings. I’m still looking on as I maintain sipping on my half empty water bottle with curiosity. Time is not significant here, I can stand here the entire day if that’s what I wish to do. This is my time to cogitate on my past, and my future. I cannot rush into things, or make hasty decisions. Joining PCW was a well thought out decision which took hours of deliberation just standing in this very same spot on the porch, drinking a similar water bottle, and reading what the Raven had to show me. Then it all became clear, crystal, and now I’m here, mentally preparing myself for battle.
What follows next, I speculate. which path to take into PCW? I’m not known, so my past legacy wouldn’t be legitimate to people’s eyes, unless they knew me from the IWL, where I’ll soon be inducted into the Hall of Fame in due time. I will strike trepidation throughout the PCW, not through demoralizing tactics or spineless attacks, but through my untouchable talent. In that ring, I’m the doctor and you’re my patient. I’m cold and calculated. I’m precise with my moves, as a doctor would be during a surgery. I’ll cut you down, dissect you, stretch you, and make you undergo extensive pain. There’s a immense possibility that you will bear injuries by my hands, but I don’t care about you, your well being, your career, your family, or your life. I’ll persecute you and stretch you with a vast listing of my submission moves. No matter how tough you are, or think you are, no matter how resilient you are, no matter who you are, once your trapped in the middle of the ring, enduring the most horrific pain your ever undergone, you’ll eventually surrender and tap out, or go unconscious. Bottom line, I’ll break you.
I’m one the finest technical fighters you’ll ever embark on. I’ll answer you move for move, and fling moves at you, you’ve never seen before. I know how to evade you, and I will counter you until the end of time, which will frustrate you. I’ll get inside your head and toy with you. Why am I so confident? Because I’ve been doing this for years. I’ve trained with the best, I’ve fought the best, and with my knowledge, my experience, I have perfected my craft and I AM the best!
Another ear-piercing croak from the Raven travels with the wind, as my concentration is momentarily broken. I understand what the Raven just shown me, or rather felt what the Raven just shown me. My egoistical mind needs to concentrate on other matters at hand, like my next opponents in PCW, Chris Crime and Mark Brown.
For I’ve been thrown into a contest with two other men. PCW has granted me to showcase what I can do. This is MY opening to reveal to the rest of PCW just what kind of fighter I am, what I’m capable of. That’s the problem right now which I will eventually resolve. PCW doesn’t know me so there are no feelings towards me, no expectations, nothing. Not even fear. For if you knew me, you’d fear me, and you’d stay away and hope to never be in the opposite side of the ring with me. Chris and Mark, regardless of what I may state, will not understand that until the sound of the bell which initiates our match. And when the match is concluded, then that’s when they’ll realize. I’ll make believers to the fans, the PCW roster, one way or another.
Who is Chris Crime? This is my analysis of him off a small amount of known information. From what I gather your name is Chris “X” Crime, deplorable name with the “X” in your name that carries no significance. Now your 27 years old and the one thing I distinguish from your past is you and a few friends kidnapped a poor homeless man, one of you ejaculated on his face, and did I mentioned you kicked his poor dog. What can I say to that one? What would anyone say? Your weak. Thrashing on defenseless people, kicking poor powerless animals, shows your character’s strength. Your pathetic. The way you behaved toward him shows me you that you need to fit in, and attack individuals just for acceptance, to be known.
I then remember the words being said of Chris Crime, which then paints a clear picture, gives me a better perceptive.
“It seems pretty pitiful right? That isn’t the case here is it? That is life my friend, you go with the flow and when an opportunity arises you strike and hope to find another opportunity. Between these moments of opportunity you work to remain in the same category you’ve made yourself become. I am Chris ‘X’ Crime, and I am just waiting…”
So that’s your life? Waiting for more opportunities sitting in that van with your pitiable friends, for what? You’ll never mount to anything beating on frail weak individuals and small animals my friend. If that’s the category you want to remain in and wait for the next moment, then that’s your problem, don’t try to justify it either, for people with morals do not care. This is the life of Chris “X” Crime. How pathetic.
I continue watch the Raven as I douse another sip from my water bottle. She leaps and skips along some branches of the tree, nervously aware of her surroundings. The tree is her domain, she rules and may no other bird or flying creature dare cross her threshold of her kingdom. I continue to think to myself. An image unfolds in my mind. A square. Ropes on all sides. Ah yes, the squared ring. For years I’ve shown my supremacy to countless of people. The ring is my realm, and in PCW I’ll shall let it be known as I rise to the pinnacle of this company.
Then the eyes pierce my mind. I find myself staring into the beady eyes of the Raven as she is perched their staring into me. Suddenly I shiver rises up my spine. Then I settle down as I break free of this trance, and look down to stare at my near empty water bottle. Mark Brown then comes next in my mind.
Another individual I know nothing of. I hate not knowing the tendencies of others, but this is to be expected when I move into uncharted territory. Mark Brown. Considering from my diminutive knowledge of the two, I find Mark Brown to be more of concern, if any, than Chris. A depressed man who had to go through life imitating he was happy, but in the end he was in actual fact empty and all alone. Despite of his marginal success as a wrestler, even winning PCW World Tag Team Championship, this couldn’t expunge his miserable and lonely adolescent years.
Having full of spite and hatred for most everyone, can cloud your judgment, and confuse you in any given scenario. His meaningless talent as a wrestler is now perhaps tarnished, and the fighter he once was is no longer. For he might have had that same passion for wrestling that continues to burn inside me, but now he’s just a shell of his former self. Pitiful.
What’s more disgraceful is that PCW hierarchy knows the talents that I possess, even knowing of some of my legacy, yet they put my name down for a match with two feeble individuals. All I can say for Chris Crime and Mark Brown, that come this Tuesday, “There Will Be No Mercy”.
As I kill the remaining water left in my bottle, out of the corner of my eye I watch the Raven take flight into the air. I set down the empty plastic container and stare into the sky as the black figure of a bird dissipates into the white feathery clouds. Then my phone again vibrates hysterically. I take the phone from my pockets and view the vibrant screen. It’s in incoming call from the same person who text messaged me previously. I push the green talk button with my thumb on my phone and then press the phone to my ear.
“Hello..?”