Post by Lantlas on Jan 31, 2006 15:31:14 GMT -5
::A scene from the past, revealing deep within the bowels of the arena, two friends carrying on a rather deep conversation about times past.::
Lantlas- So that's what really happened?
Devon- I'm afraid so, Lanty. Nothing can really change the past.
Lantlas- Why didn't you just tell me at the time?
Devon- What can I say, Lantlas? Some things are best kept in 20/20 mystery. We didn't know at the time what we know now, and maybe it was for the best. It'll never change the past though, and you can't be worried about that now. The biggest night of your career is just ahead; you can't be focused on the past.
Lantlas- But the past is what got me here. In a way it's rather ironic that Laiman's touch is what elevated me into the superstar I've become. I was a mere tag team champion back then as I am now, but in trying to be the guy everyone wanted me to be, it appeared I would never peak into the Hall of Fame as one of the greats. Laiman destroyed my life, one brick after another, until finally I turned into a silent shell.
Devon- I remember that. You were the fear of everyone.
Lantlas- Burrowed deep within my silence, I let other people do the talking for me. I thought that the silence would convey the emotion only I knew, and only you could understand. I became thirsty for blood, and soon enough I got it. Although I became a bit insane, I went on a hot streak, headlining the events by doing the stupidest of things, yet succeeding in the process.
Devon- That Laura kidnapping was a classic.
Lantlas- Then, this little loudmouth quoting machine showed up. Out of the blue, even. I'd never heard of the guy before until that point. But I have to say, he showed me the way to be myself again, without ever compromising either my integrity or my respect. As a result, we've been the tag team champions for months, and I now face my creator, so to speak, for the HHW championship, the pinnacle of this organization.
Devon- And going up against your "creator", how does that feel?
Lantlas- I suppose in a way, it is like it should be in the storybooks. Teacher vs. Student, Master vs. Slave, Creator vs. Createe... But this is different. This is a man who led me to believe that we were brothers; that he would always have my back as I had his. But the way it came out was he was using me. I would save him time after time while the times I was being attacked by someone, he was nowhere to be found. When Geno took his title, I had to seek the vengeance. Nash has become too dependent, and it will be his downfall. He has a whole big group to help him out, and I'm hoping they have enough class to stay out of this. This is my first real chance, and I'm not losing it on account of some idiots thinking it's funny to help a man who can't help himself.
Devon- Well then I suppose you know what you gotta do.
Lantlas- Yeah, I really think I do...
::After some public appearances, Lantlas has returned to where he was first seen and observed, deep within the forest outside of town. Over the hills and far away it seems, as the darkness and solitude conceals Lantlas from the outside world as he'd intended. As the big man walks down the path he's created, where the mutilated shark lies, a few steps down so lies a snake, a bird, a trumpet, and another shark. Lantlas's sword is on his back, but now he has another weapon in hand. One designed for the thorough destruction of whatever gets in its way.::
::Reflecting on the past, we return to a dark location. The figure of the still silent Lantlas is barely seen amidst the little light peering into the room wherever he might be. The clanging of metal echoes throughout the room which is obviously in the bowels of the arena. Drips of water decorate the background audio of the location, giving the impression that it might be the boiler room. Another loud clang is heard, then a grunt. A few seconds later, a huge crash is heard. A small cackle of laughter escapes the slightly-used voicebox of Lantlas. A short time later, the door cracks open, and someone with a flashlight points the beam straight on the big man. Lantlas, using his right hand to shield the light, reveals that he has a metal file in his hand. The piercing voice of Devon Drake is heard shrieking.::
Devon- Lantlas Anduril, what the fuck do you think you're doing?
::Lantlas merely steps out of the beamlight, walking to the other side of the room. Devon runs in the room and follows him, but stops when she hears something crackling under her feet. She shines the flashlight down to find millions of tiny pieces of broken glass. She shines the flashlight up again to see a huge plate glass window... or what once was one. Looking over at Lantlas, he now has a gigantic object in his hand. Another cackle is heard as Devon realizes the giant object is a medieval flail. A spiked heavy metal ball at the end of a dangling chain.::
Devon- Okay Lantlas, this isn't even funny. What the hell are you doing with that?
::Lantlas takes a second to file one of the spikes, then quickly pricks it with his hand to test the sharpness. Then, in the small amount of light, his slight grin changes to an evil smile, his white teeth reflecting the beam of the flashlight.::
Devon- Is this your idea of a joke?
Lantlas- Someone doesn't like to play by the rules.
Devon- Yeah, so what? You'll get him back.
Lantlas- When people don't like to play by the rules, they seem to forget that it applies to both parties once that barrier is broken.
Devon- Lantlas...
Lantlas- Once that barrier is broken... all bets are off.
::Lantlas pricks the tip of another spike, but a bit too hard, and dark red blood begins running down his wrist. Lantlas shrugs, turns, and chucks the flail through what's left of the frame of the window.::
::In the beam of moonlight, the large flail is seen in Lantlas's right hand. The camera zooms into his expressionless face, and the slightest hint of a smile breaks out from the corners of his mouth.::
Lantlas- Foreshadowing. Two matches have been booked with Lantlas Anduril on the card, and two matches have gone exactly the way he said they would. Those on the opposing side refused to believe it, but when they were thoroughly decimated, proving that the giant blue-haired freak is in fact no fluke, their eyes were a mirror of their fear. Two matches, two pinfalls, two victories, countless more repetitive jokes. Hell, the Byrd made two of the classics in the same promo. Congratulations Byrd, you're the first man whose vocal chords I'll seek to break. Are you Idiot number 307 or 308 who's made a Keebler Elves reference? Even your own partner made it, but apparently your birdbrain prevents you from using the instrument of logic. That little stunt you pulled is going to lead you to a fate far worse than just losing the match.
::Lantlas steps forward from the four broken pieces, and walks a little further away.::
Lantlas- The Elven Path is reaching a point where it gets wider, where more people can fit on it at once. First week was only one, second week was four, and now there are six. Four of these six have been defeated by my hand once, and of those four, one of them has lost to me twice. Twice his broken soul lies on this path, and the hat trick merely awaits this burden. However this time, they'll have some new guests. Our partners, for lack of a better term, from last week, those two who put forth so much effort to display just how well they represent the tag team division. Chrissy Johnson and Maddog, who were there only to keep the credibility fair. After all, who would've wanted to see Sinn and myself defeat you guys for the titles when it only took two of us to defeat two of the other teams, right? Imagine this week, Mass Destruction. The two of us will take what we didn't obliterate in the past two weeks and finish it all off.
::Lantlas stops, as two objects have joined with replicas of the first four. A can of Red Bull and a box of Kotex.::
Lantlas- On this night of intentional destruction, the blood will flow. The tag titles mean nothing, because with this kind of competition, I could defend them myself. Both Sinn and myself have higher goals than these worthless flashy sophisticated ways of keeping our pants up. I realize for those of you whose careers have not yet begun, or like Slither for those who are on the steady decline to retirement, this may seem like a big deal to you. You'll fight for all you're worth, even if it isn't really that much anymore, but in the end it will be a devastating failure.
::Lantlas swings the flail down, knocking all six of the fixtures into tiny little pieces with a single swoop.::
Lantlas- An instrument of Mass Destruction comes in his first PCW Pay-Per-View appearance. Three teams of victims, where shall we start? Ah yes, Slither and Majesky, the two who've done nothing but make me look even better than I already am since I got here. Sharkboy, I really think your career doesn't belong in wrestling. You should work in a shrink's office, because you'd be quite effecient about making people feel better about themselves. Then again, you'd probably cost them money, because they wouldn't be buying the prescriptions they don't really need anymore. "Hell, I don't need drugs to not feel like a loser around this douchebag." Think of how special that makes you, Sharkboy. You could be preventing suicide by showing the world that their lives don't suck quite as much as yours do! You've been defeated by a "rookie" twice without so much as putting up a fight. You've been brutalized, taken down with such brute force that I'll be surprised if you make it to the ring this week. There's no use for you here anymore, because you've already taken the fall. Now, it's nothing more than salt in the wounds you surely have.
Lantlas- Then of course, there's Slither. The former world champion that people seem to have high respect for. This should be a message to Ace Anderson and every other idiot who's gotten themselves into ego fixation by thinking that the Elven Warrior was nothing more than a joke, a gimmick created for their sick, twisted amusement. Hey boys, pay attention. The one with only one match under his belt just took part in defeating a former PCW champion. Took part, what the hell am I saying... The one with only one match under his belt thoroughly decimated and picked apart what was left of Slither's career and watched him shed his prime like a layer of skin. This man, once revered as a great athlete, one who could even carry a company, is now nothing more than an advertisement for the imprint of my boot. And I'm supposed to fear Ass Anderson when defeating a former world champion is this easy? It'd be easy to use the excuse of "well, he was teaming up with Majesky", but that only gets you so far. He could be teamed with anyone from any federation anywhere, and the result would've been the same. I don't make the rules, I just execute them.
::Lantlas kicks the dirt where the shark and snake were.::
Lantlas- We now move to some people who think jokes are pretty damn funny. We have Tony Brass, in his infinite wisdom, who unsuccessfully tried to prove that our impact was minimal by losing to us. And now, in a delightfully cute campaign, they've named their team after my tag team partner. Wow Seth, first they cover us in feathers, and now they're flattering us by trying to be you. Somehow birds trying to get kinky with me just doesn't really do much for me these days. Somehow, my eyebrow is a bit raised by someone who finds it amusing to cover someone in chocolate like a B-porno movie. You should've at least made it German chocolate. At least then it would've been borderline creative, but as I noticed from your promos last week, that isn't quite how you roll, is it Byrdman? Like I said earlier, one of the overused, repetitive jokes wasn't enough, you had to use both of them. See, that might've gotten you far before someone like me got here... Well, actually it really didn't. Our excuse for fighting for the tag titles is we just got here. What's yours, big guy? You're being set up, I hope you realize that. This is going to result in nothing more than the inevitable humiliation of you, and you just made your journey that much tougher by that cheap stunt you pulled after our match. In fact, after we break both of your wings and leave you to die, I'll be sending you my dry-cleaning bill. Don't be hasty just because God hates you, Byrd.
Lantlas- And his tag team partner, which I'm not exactly sure how this one works out, Mr. Brass Section himself, the only one I have the slightest amount of respect for, given that he actually seemed to give a shit. Granted, his effort was in vain, because either way he stood no chance, but I can respect someone who still fights despite the odds. It's sad that such a fine man will face such a brutal downfall at Mass Destruction. Brass, you are a worthy enemy. I do not doubt that you are far superior to how you've been labeled. It's unfortunate that I'll be killing any chance you have of moving up around here by burying you so deep, even the dinosaurs will be turning their heads wondering what all the fucking noise is. Despite how much I railed you for being an idiot, once you are in the ring you're not half bad, and if you manage to stand after we're declared the winners, I'll take no issue in shaking your hand for a battle well-fought. This just is not your time, and with a tag team partner like Byrdman, maybe you need to re-think your strategy.
::Lantlas kicks the dirt again where the trumpet and the bird were.::
Lantlas- Finally, those who carry the belts. They may as well lay them down now before they disgrace themselves any more. You are the two who represent the tag team division by holding those belts, and you can't even find it in your empty souls to try. Anyone with honor fights no matter how small the quarrel they're given. Chrissy and Maddog are merely bodies to represent the image of being champions, given that I've never actually rolled my eyes and been embarrassed so much when being forced to tag with someone. The reason I keep saying we would've been better off taking on all four of them by ourselves is because once they added you two to the mix, it actually brought the credibility of our team DOWN. I have to ask though, Chrissy, how did it feel to have partners with talent for a change?
Chrissy, I don't know you well enough to know if everyone calling you some third-rate gutter slut is true or not, but listen floozie, the only issue I have with you is you're on the card against me. What you do on your personal time is your business, just don't hold it against me when I show no mercy on you based solely on your gender. You're a big girl, and you signed the contract. If you're tough enough to hold the belts, you're tough enough to effectively lose them to a team who might actually make the belts worth something again. It's sad that I really don't care about the belts, because only one belt means anything to me, but for now I'll take what I can get. The most interesting part of these tag team champions is Floozie is the strong link in this team. PCW and their love for animals has spawned yet another one in this Maddog character, and he sucks worse than Laiman's ex at a frat house. I'd probably have more to say about you, but... what's the point? What could I possibly say that you don't already know? You know you stand no chance, you know it's your turn for a trip on the Elvish Tale, and you know you'll lie as two more victims on the Elven Path. At least you're aware of it; it'll make it that much easier to accept.
::Lantlas kicks away the last remaining shards of debris from the set pieces. Lantlas drops his flail, and pulls out his sword once more.::
Lantlas- The first rule of war is know thy enemy. The first rule of the Elven Path is know thy fate. The truth lies within thee, either shallow or deep, but the choice is yours to fight it or accept it. Either way, it's the same result.
::Lantlas comes forward with a lightning-quick front sweep. As the camera zooms in, Lantlas mutters one last sentence.::
Lantlas- Notice the path you've taken, the one right under your feet... THE ELVEN PATH!
::The scene closes.::