Post by gravedigger on Sept 28, 2006 11:02:59 GMT -5
"Ring around the Rosies, Pocket Full of Posies, Ashes Ashes, We all fall down!"
As he walked down the street he eyed the little girls playing the infamous "game rhyme" that had its roots in the days of the plague, in the days of the red death. The times would change, but certain things wouldn't. Of that.. he knew. As he walked down the street, he did not stop for anyone. He just kept walking. He wanted to get out of the neighborhood... away from the phone calls, away from the agents. He had learned that the police were searching nearby... searching for the criminal who robbed the graves. He knew who was behind it, and he knew why. It was his turn to stand tall. It was his time to create mass carnage and destruction. He had been gone for so long... three hundred and sixty five days away from the ring. Three hundred and sixty five days away from what he loved the most. Three hundred and sixty five days away from the very place that made him feel normal.
But it was beginning to dawn on him. He wasn't normal. He would never be "normal." Normal was something a six foot, two inch man with a career as a lawyer could be classified as. Normal was something Bill Gates could be classified as. Normal was the every day businessman, the cop, the firefighter, the celebrity, the football player. Normal would never be looking so hideous one hides behind a hideous mask of monstrosity. Normal would never mean being one of the tallest men alive. Normal was not taking pleasure in burying people... alive. Normal was not who he was. Yet stilll remained some humanity...
...a sense of justice? Of dignity? To the point where certain people he would treat with respect... and others he would treat as if he were a demon. No... he was not normal, nor would he ever be... normal. Acceptance of that would sooner bring him peace... an inner peace he had not felt... since House of the Dead. His sense of time diluted him... he recalled that final bout... that last match where he could stand tall and be proud. Yes... he remembered it so clearly now... House of the Dead. Feburary 2006. Not a year. Why were things so muddled? Why were they so... muddled? He recalled the violent match in the Extreme Wrestling Alliance, he recalled just how he stood ontop of the world at that very moment.
Dark Lord and Vincible tried to punch out Gravedigger to no avail as he just fired back, first at Vincible, then at Dark Lord, and back again. Finally, he just clotheslined them both onto the hardwood floor of the mansion...../ Dark Lord rolled out of the way, stood back up, and pulled a sword mounted on the wall from its plaque. He swung it at Vincible who backed away surprised, when Gravedigger clocked Dark Lord out of nowhere on the back of the head with a baseball bat./ Gravedigger, with blood running freely down his face, smiled grimly and walked forward. Dark Lord was about to slam Vincible and threw him at Gravedigger, who caught the champ by the neck. He looked down at the hardwood floor below and grinned wickedly, about to chokeslam Vincible off of the balcony, when Dark Lord pushed Gravedigger off of the balcony! / Vincible staggered up, standing on the fourth step of the main staircase. Gravedigger wobbled, as he stood tall. He turned and Vincible went for a double axe handle... and Gravedigger caught him and hit the Burial... allowing the ref to count him out for the 10 count!
He paused... reflecting on those moments... those moments in his life that changed him. That was his sweetest moment. That was the day he became champion of not just his own cause... but of the entire EXWA. But no longer was that door an option. He had chosen PCW because it indeed was Pure Class. He had chosen it because he wanted to prove to people not just the hardcore stylists... but to the mainstream audience that even a monster can be... the hero? The one to stop the bad and bring in the good? No.. he knew that often his causes seemed evil, yet the people still loved him. Maybe it was because when evil battles evil the one the people love is the sort of evil that people relate to? He didn't know... but what he did know is he needed to change his attitude.
He offered luck to Ortiz. He offered luck to his opponent. How could be so stupid? How could he be so vulnerable. A rookie that may be a good sportsman may not always be that way in his debut. He couldn't allow it. No... he had to change... he had to change his methods. No more would he offer praise to his opponents. No more would he be nice... no more would he just sit back, prepare, and do nothing. He would enter the match... the fight.... with the same bare knuckle brutality in which he defeated Bob Diehard with. Only this time... he would be ten times the brutality, ten times the ambition, and ten times the freakish nature he was known for. He was fueled by the crowds desire to see him "Bury" someone. He was energized by how people supported him, even if at times he seemed "occult" or "ultra violent."
It was time to cut the crap.
No more games.
No more videos wishing luck.
No more wishing anyone luck.
"The era of the Freaks of Nature is just beginning," he whispered to himself.
He continued down the street until he reached his destination. The graveyard.
Quietly and to himself he said in a dark tone...
"Be prepared... to be Buried Alive... Ortiz..."
As he walked down the street he eyed the little girls playing the infamous "game rhyme" that had its roots in the days of the plague, in the days of the red death. The times would change, but certain things wouldn't. Of that.. he knew. As he walked down the street, he did not stop for anyone. He just kept walking. He wanted to get out of the neighborhood... away from the phone calls, away from the agents. He had learned that the police were searching nearby... searching for the criminal who robbed the graves. He knew who was behind it, and he knew why. It was his turn to stand tall. It was his time to create mass carnage and destruction. He had been gone for so long... three hundred and sixty five days away from the ring. Three hundred and sixty five days away from what he loved the most. Three hundred and sixty five days away from the very place that made him feel normal.
But it was beginning to dawn on him. He wasn't normal. He would never be "normal." Normal was something a six foot, two inch man with a career as a lawyer could be classified as. Normal was something Bill Gates could be classified as. Normal was the every day businessman, the cop, the firefighter, the celebrity, the football player. Normal would never be looking so hideous one hides behind a hideous mask of monstrosity. Normal would never mean being one of the tallest men alive. Normal was not taking pleasure in burying people... alive. Normal was not who he was. Yet stilll remained some humanity...
...a sense of justice? Of dignity? To the point where certain people he would treat with respect... and others he would treat as if he were a demon. No... he was not normal, nor would he ever be... normal. Acceptance of that would sooner bring him peace... an inner peace he had not felt... since House of the Dead. His sense of time diluted him... he recalled that final bout... that last match where he could stand tall and be proud. Yes... he remembered it so clearly now... House of the Dead. Feburary 2006. Not a year. Why were things so muddled? Why were they so... muddled? He recalled the violent match in the Extreme Wrestling Alliance, he recalled just how he stood ontop of the world at that very moment.
Dark Lord and Vincible tried to punch out Gravedigger to no avail as he just fired back, first at Vincible, then at Dark Lord, and back again. Finally, he just clotheslined them both onto the hardwood floor of the mansion...../ Dark Lord rolled out of the way, stood back up, and pulled a sword mounted on the wall from its plaque. He swung it at Vincible who backed away surprised, when Gravedigger clocked Dark Lord out of nowhere on the back of the head with a baseball bat./ Gravedigger, with blood running freely down his face, smiled grimly and walked forward. Dark Lord was about to slam Vincible and threw him at Gravedigger, who caught the champ by the neck. He looked down at the hardwood floor below and grinned wickedly, about to chokeslam Vincible off of the balcony, when Dark Lord pushed Gravedigger off of the balcony! / Vincible staggered up, standing on the fourth step of the main staircase. Gravedigger wobbled, as he stood tall. He turned and Vincible went for a double axe handle... and Gravedigger caught him and hit the Burial... allowing the ref to count him out for the 10 count!
He paused... reflecting on those moments... those moments in his life that changed him. That was his sweetest moment. That was the day he became champion of not just his own cause... but of the entire EXWA. But no longer was that door an option. He had chosen PCW because it indeed was Pure Class. He had chosen it because he wanted to prove to people not just the hardcore stylists... but to the mainstream audience that even a monster can be... the hero? The one to stop the bad and bring in the good? No.. he knew that often his causes seemed evil, yet the people still loved him. Maybe it was because when evil battles evil the one the people love is the sort of evil that people relate to? He didn't know... but what he did know is he needed to change his attitude.
He offered luck to Ortiz. He offered luck to his opponent. How could be so stupid? How could he be so vulnerable. A rookie that may be a good sportsman may not always be that way in his debut. He couldn't allow it. No... he had to change... he had to change his methods. No more would he offer praise to his opponents. No more would he be nice... no more would he just sit back, prepare, and do nothing. He would enter the match... the fight.... with the same bare knuckle brutality in which he defeated Bob Diehard with. Only this time... he would be ten times the brutality, ten times the ambition, and ten times the freakish nature he was known for. He was fueled by the crowds desire to see him "Bury" someone. He was energized by how people supported him, even if at times he seemed "occult" or "ultra violent."
It was time to cut the crap.
No more games.
No more videos wishing luck.
No more wishing anyone luck.
"The era of the Freaks of Nature is just beginning," he whispered to himself.
He continued down the street until he reached his destination. The graveyard.
Quietly and to himself he said in a dark tone...
"Be prepared... to be Buried Alive... Ortiz..."