Post by Non Compos Mentis on Jun 20, 2006 15:39:15 GMT -5
[The scene begins with a view of a pair of French, patio windows. Nothing really special about them, double-glazed panes of glass, white plastic framed and hung exactly level horizontally. Inside of the window there is a highly decorative laminate wooden flooring made to resemble deep oak floorboards. The walls around the windows are plain, white masses that echo minimalism and the emptiness of the inhabitant of this space. Close to the transparent sheets there is the arm rest of a deep red Sofa that sits motionless and almost infuriated in its intense colouration, like the man that made it dyed the leather red as a sign of a deep feeling of malice.
Outside of the windows we can see that the glass is being pelted scornfully by the droplets of acid tinged water falling from the sky. The sky outside looks almost black although it is only 6 o’clock in the evening and it is summer time, the time when the sun rises so triumphantly and holds it place until it is forced down in strength by the hand of night in the twilight hours.
The gathering, deep black clouds invade the kingdom of the sun and outlaw and outcast it to the very furthest limits of the horizon. A prison of darkness and solitude where no-one can see its beauty.
The clouds have taken over the skies and all that is left is darkness as the malevolent forces up above take their vengeance against the realm of the sun. The minions of the clouds, the spiteful droplets of liquor, falling and attacking everything. The winds of revenge eroding the material of the suns admirers.
Outside of the window there it seems there is a balcony, an attachment to the gods, a place where people go to be closer to the sky, closer to the heavens. If god had a house it would be a penthouse apartment with a balcony just as big. The balcony in this case has an arrangement of light stone coloured flagstones that cover the floor apart from several spots of, now, flooded gravel. The balcony extends further than our view allows us to see so we walk towards the windows and open the left window enough that we can slip out onto the flagstones. The water invades the home and attacks the oak-effect flooring with malicious intent as we walk out onto the balcony.
We look left. In the corner there is an arrangement of coniferous pot plants that are clearly badly looked after, as if the owner is repaying nature for his shortcomings by stunting its growth. We move our focus around the dull and dingy environment to see several more compilations of planting and shrubbery that are rotting slowly. We continue to scan the scenery until we see a figure. This figure is standing close to the edge of the balcony, he is looking over the edge and down towards the soaked asphalt of the road at least 7 stories down.
We move in closer to see who this figure is. He is wearing matching black denim jacket and pants as well as a plain black t-shirt, all of which are now soaked completely by the rain. The man’s shoulder length, dark brown hair looks thin and greasy in the humid environment. We move around to see the man’s face and see the scarred forehead and features of PCW North American Champion, Non Compos Mentis. He is standing, with his head down in a depressed domineer and is contemplating the results of fall or even the ethics behind the jump. What reasons would be acceptable for a self mutilation of the worst kind, death.]
I helped, I strived and I tired to save you from yourself. You held me back and you pushed me away to the back of your existence when you knew, in your heart of hearts that I was the stronger entity, I was the fighter, I was the one that would drag us out of the situation that you put us in. You put us in there, in the institute, it was your pious ramblings that made everyone doubt your sanity. You believed in God so much that you believed he wanted to put you in a madhouse for some reason that was beyond everyone. You put me in that place and you left me to rot in the back of your head. But I fought back and I got you out of there, I got you here, in this apartment, in this job, I this life. And you repay me this way, by infesting MY mind, by destroying MY life.
It isn’t your life, you stole it from me, you stole everything. Without you I would be further than this. When you took over I was in the World Title picture, I was in the Main Event. Now, you have taken me down to be a North American Champion.
And being a Main Eventer with no hope of winning the title is better than being a champion?
Its honest
DON’T GIVE A LESSON IN HONESTY .You lied as much as me, you lied to your loved ones. You strung them along with false promises and shambolic truths. You promised them that you would be a success, you promised them that you would be an honour to the family.
I would have been, if you hadn’t have taken over and tried your stupid escape plan in that institute then I would have got out, I would have gone on like I was before.
You were a loner before, you had one friend and that one left you when you needed her most. You had no real friends, you left them all behind because you were called to the service of God. You left everything behind, everyone you loved, everything you owned, everything. You sold it all down the river and you call me this the worse life.
That life would have been acceptable. That life was the right life, the life that fate had set out for me. Fate wanted me to become that person. Is that what you think you are, an Anti-God, a Satan, Beelzebub, Lucifer.
Oh yes, that’s right, I am the anti-Christ, I am the great plague of humanity, I am the root of evil and the source of pain. Please, you think I am evil, my intentions were good, I helped you, I fought the battles you engaged. I may not be the ‘God’ that you adored but in all right I should be a fallen angle.
[Mentis stands looking down into the abyss, shouting out loud to the figure that does not exist. As if an invisible creature had been sent to gaud him into the jump, the leap of faith. He continues to survey the drop, the odd look up to the skies to view to source of his opponent.]
So what are you going to do. Destroy me? Would you seriously jeopardise your only chance at winning the Tag Team Titles? A chance for more success to be put to your name, would you risk that? You said you wanted to be a success, would this not be a sign of success that will be attributed to your name? I don’t care whether I win or lose these Tag Titles, but you do, of course I would prefer to win but if a greater good is presented they must be sacrificed. If I get the partner that I hate beyond hate I will throw the titles away in a heartbeat.
I know that you would lose the titles if you wanted but there is a reason you have kept this one. You love success, you actively seek it out, is that not the reason you took over my mind, to succeed where I did not? That is why you came into existence and now you threaten me with the loss of success. I would like to win the titles, yes, but I don’t think that you will willingly lose them.
Then you seriously doubt my hate of Al Laiman. I hate him, he embodies everything that I am not. He is a wrestling legend, he is a multi-time World Champion, he respects the fans, he respects his competitors and he hates me. He thinks I don’t have what it takes to compete at his level, at a hardcore level. We face each other in a week, at Trauma, in a Hardcore Hell match. Do you know what that is? The most brutal match in wrestling history and I will have a chance to beat the living hell out of a Manger that cant hack it anymore with barbed-wire and thumb tacks.
Is that what you think? Al Laiman is a Manager that cant hack it in the ring? Have you watched any of his matches, have you seen his other Hardcore Hell matches? For that matter have you even seen what kind of shape he is in? He is in the best shape of his life. He has competed in a Hardcore Hell match before and narrowly lost. He is a World Champion and you, you are only a North American Champion. You should face up to the fact that you are taking on a multi-time World Champion, that is more infuriated with you than he has ever been with anyone else, and is only Twenty-Six years old. You are out achieved, over-aged and not as pissed off as he is.
You think that, do you? Well I think you are wrong and I am in control here, not you, me. I am the one that will win the Tag Titles or destroy Al Laiman’s career, I am the one that is North American Champion and I am the one that will beat Anthony Douglas at Return To Glory. He has nothing on me, he is nothing, a degenerate, a no hoper, he is an onlooker on my winning career.
He is unbeaten in singles matches, and your match with him is a singles match.
Then I will be the first to beat him, and I will be one of the first few to beat Al Laiman one on one. This title will remain in my hands for a long time to come. Nobody can beat me when they face me for this.
That is what you think. That title will not be yours forever, and when it falls from your grasp, I will be waiting to prey on the weakened remains of the great competitor.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WHAT DO YOU KNOW? I WILL KEEP THIS BELT AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!!!
[Mentis is stunned immensely as a feminine hand grips his shoulder and he turns around to see his assailant.]
Sofia
Sofia: Mentis, you need help.
[The scene slowly fades to black as the rain pounds the heads of Mentis and Sofia with incessant continuity. The sound of rumbling thunder from the heavens booms through the scenery as we lose all sound and pictures. In the final moments, Mentis simply stares in thin air at the man that was never there.]
Outside of the windows we can see that the glass is being pelted scornfully by the droplets of acid tinged water falling from the sky. The sky outside looks almost black although it is only 6 o’clock in the evening and it is summer time, the time when the sun rises so triumphantly and holds it place until it is forced down in strength by the hand of night in the twilight hours.
The gathering, deep black clouds invade the kingdom of the sun and outlaw and outcast it to the very furthest limits of the horizon. A prison of darkness and solitude where no-one can see its beauty.
The clouds have taken over the skies and all that is left is darkness as the malevolent forces up above take their vengeance against the realm of the sun. The minions of the clouds, the spiteful droplets of liquor, falling and attacking everything. The winds of revenge eroding the material of the suns admirers.
Outside of the window there it seems there is a balcony, an attachment to the gods, a place where people go to be closer to the sky, closer to the heavens. If god had a house it would be a penthouse apartment with a balcony just as big. The balcony in this case has an arrangement of light stone coloured flagstones that cover the floor apart from several spots of, now, flooded gravel. The balcony extends further than our view allows us to see so we walk towards the windows and open the left window enough that we can slip out onto the flagstones. The water invades the home and attacks the oak-effect flooring with malicious intent as we walk out onto the balcony.
We look left. In the corner there is an arrangement of coniferous pot plants that are clearly badly looked after, as if the owner is repaying nature for his shortcomings by stunting its growth. We move our focus around the dull and dingy environment to see several more compilations of planting and shrubbery that are rotting slowly. We continue to scan the scenery until we see a figure. This figure is standing close to the edge of the balcony, he is looking over the edge and down towards the soaked asphalt of the road at least 7 stories down.
We move in closer to see who this figure is. He is wearing matching black denim jacket and pants as well as a plain black t-shirt, all of which are now soaked completely by the rain. The man’s shoulder length, dark brown hair looks thin and greasy in the humid environment. We move around to see the man’s face and see the scarred forehead and features of PCW North American Champion, Non Compos Mentis. He is standing, with his head down in a depressed domineer and is contemplating the results of fall or even the ethics behind the jump. What reasons would be acceptable for a self mutilation of the worst kind, death.]
I helped, I strived and I tired to save you from yourself. You held me back and you pushed me away to the back of your existence when you knew, in your heart of hearts that I was the stronger entity, I was the fighter, I was the one that would drag us out of the situation that you put us in. You put us in there, in the institute, it was your pious ramblings that made everyone doubt your sanity. You believed in God so much that you believed he wanted to put you in a madhouse for some reason that was beyond everyone. You put me in that place and you left me to rot in the back of your head. But I fought back and I got you out of there, I got you here, in this apartment, in this job, I this life. And you repay me this way, by infesting MY mind, by destroying MY life.
It isn’t your life, you stole it from me, you stole everything. Without you I would be further than this. When you took over I was in the World Title picture, I was in the Main Event. Now, you have taken me down to be a North American Champion.
And being a Main Eventer with no hope of winning the title is better than being a champion?
Its honest
DON’T GIVE A LESSON IN HONESTY .You lied as much as me, you lied to your loved ones. You strung them along with false promises and shambolic truths. You promised them that you would be a success, you promised them that you would be an honour to the family.
I would have been, if you hadn’t have taken over and tried your stupid escape plan in that institute then I would have got out, I would have gone on like I was before.
You were a loner before, you had one friend and that one left you when you needed her most. You had no real friends, you left them all behind because you were called to the service of God. You left everything behind, everyone you loved, everything you owned, everything. You sold it all down the river and you call me this the worse life.
That life would have been acceptable. That life was the right life, the life that fate had set out for me. Fate wanted me to become that person. Is that what you think you are, an Anti-God, a Satan, Beelzebub, Lucifer.
Oh yes, that’s right, I am the anti-Christ, I am the great plague of humanity, I am the root of evil and the source of pain. Please, you think I am evil, my intentions were good, I helped you, I fought the battles you engaged. I may not be the ‘God’ that you adored but in all right I should be a fallen angle.
[Mentis stands looking down into the abyss, shouting out loud to the figure that does not exist. As if an invisible creature had been sent to gaud him into the jump, the leap of faith. He continues to survey the drop, the odd look up to the skies to view to source of his opponent.]
So what are you going to do. Destroy me? Would you seriously jeopardise your only chance at winning the Tag Team Titles? A chance for more success to be put to your name, would you risk that? You said you wanted to be a success, would this not be a sign of success that will be attributed to your name? I don’t care whether I win or lose these Tag Titles, but you do, of course I would prefer to win but if a greater good is presented they must be sacrificed. If I get the partner that I hate beyond hate I will throw the titles away in a heartbeat.
I know that you would lose the titles if you wanted but there is a reason you have kept this one. You love success, you actively seek it out, is that not the reason you took over my mind, to succeed where I did not? That is why you came into existence and now you threaten me with the loss of success. I would like to win the titles, yes, but I don’t think that you will willingly lose them.
Then you seriously doubt my hate of Al Laiman. I hate him, he embodies everything that I am not. He is a wrestling legend, he is a multi-time World Champion, he respects the fans, he respects his competitors and he hates me. He thinks I don’t have what it takes to compete at his level, at a hardcore level. We face each other in a week, at Trauma, in a Hardcore Hell match. Do you know what that is? The most brutal match in wrestling history and I will have a chance to beat the living hell out of a Manger that cant hack it anymore with barbed-wire and thumb tacks.
Is that what you think? Al Laiman is a Manager that cant hack it in the ring? Have you watched any of his matches, have you seen his other Hardcore Hell matches? For that matter have you even seen what kind of shape he is in? He is in the best shape of his life. He has competed in a Hardcore Hell match before and narrowly lost. He is a World Champion and you, you are only a North American Champion. You should face up to the fact that you are taking on a multi-time World Champion, that is more infuriated with you than he has ever been with anyone else, and is only Twenty-Six years old. You are out achieved, over-aged and not as pissed off as he is.
You think that, do you? Well I think you are wrong and I am in control here, not you, me. I am the one that will win the Tag Titles or destroy Al Laiman’s career, I am the one that is North American Champion and I am the one that will beat Anthony Douglas at Return To Glory. He has nothing on me, he is nothing, a degenerate, a no hoper, he is an onlooker on my winning career.
He is unbeaten in singles matches, and your match with him is a singles match.
Then I will be the first to beat him, and I will be one of the first few to beat Al Laiman one on one. This title will remain in my hands for a long time to come. Nobody can beat me when they face me for this.
That is what you think. That title will not be yours forever, and when it falls from your grasp, I will be waiting to prey on the weakened remains of the great competitor.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WHAT DO YOU KNOW? I WILL KEEP THIS BELT AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!!!
[Mentis is stunned immensely as a feminine hand grips his shoulder and he turns around to see his assailant.]
Sofia
Sofia: Mentis, you need help.
[The scene slowly fades to black as the rain pounds the heads of Mentis and Sofia with incessant continuity. The sound of rumbling thunder from the heavens booms through the scenery as we lose all sound and pictures. In the final moments, Mentis simply stares in thin air at the man that was never there.]
