Post by Braddock on Sept 18, 2015 17:41:53 GMT -5
Warnock: Hello everyone out there watching at home, you all know who i am. The voice of the most Ultraviolent man in the history of P.C.W., Braddock.
We see the duo is standing on a grassy field where, nearby, a group of tweens are kicking a soccer ball around. Warnock is in his trademark suit while Braddock sports a black hoodie and baggy jeans. The Ultraviolent one stands a few paces behind Warnock, clenching and unclinching his jaw.
Warnock: This week my client faces off with a former Sumo star who has no business being in the ring with anyone, let alone Braddock. Big Boy, you got a huge task ahead of you. Braddock is going to smash you like the roach you are. Maybe after your jaw is wired shut you'll lose a few pounds. You're the type of slob that causes one to lose their appetite when they see you in the restaurant.
The soccer ball bounces into the shot and hits Braddock in the back of his thigh. He turns, looks down at the ball, and then at the two boys who have trotted up and into the scene as well. Braddock looks at the boys and then at the ball before stomping on it and flattening it instantly.
Get the fuck outta here![/i]
Braddocks growling threat send the boys fleeing back to the group, pointing back at the duo once in the safety of their peers.
Warnock: I'm going to keep this short and sweet; your own personal Hell is about to descend upon you, Hiroshi. Your own personal Day of Judgement is on the horizon. Braddock is all four Horsemen rolled into one. He is War. He is Pestilence. He is Famine. He. Is. Death!
As the Warnock crackles while Braddock wrings his hands and stares a hole through the lens of the camera. We fade out and a wolf's grin curls Warnock's lips.
We see the duo is standing on a grassy field where, nearby, a group of tweens are kicking a soccer ball around. Warnock is in his trademark suit while Braddock sports a black hoodie and baggy jeans. The Ultraviolent one stands a few paces behind Warnock, clenching and unclinching his jaw.
Warnock: This week my client faces off with a former Sumo star who has no business being in the ring with anyone, let alone Braddock. Big Boy, you got a huge task ahead of you. Braddock is going to smash you like the roach you are. Maybe after your jaw is wired shut you'll lose a few pounds. You're the type of slob that causes one to lose their appetite when they see you in the restaurant.
The soccer ball bounces into the shot and hits Braddock in the back of his thigh. He turns, looks down at the ball, and then at the two boys who have trotted up and into the scene as well. Braddock looks at the boys and then at the ball before stomping on it and flattening it instantly.
Get the fuck outta here![/i]
Braddocks growling threat send the boys fleeing back to the group, pointing back at the duo once in the safety of their peers.
Warnock: I'm going to keep this short and sweet; your own personal Hell is about to descend upon you, Hiroshi. Your own personal Day of Judgement is on the horizon. Braddock is all four Horsemen rolled into one. He is War. He is Pestilence. He is Famine. He. Is. Death!
As the Warnock crackles while Braddock wrings his hands and stares a hole through the lens of the camera. We fade out and a wolf's grin curls Warnock's lips.