Post by kelvinkage on Mar 29, 2009 20:40:23 GMT -5
Monday Night Decimation comes on the air after a few minutes of various adverts promoting cosmetics and Gatorade. Blaring around the arena already is “All Your Boyz” by Maximum Penalty. Inside the ring, with an LDWA microphone grasped tightly in his clutches is Magnus Gunner, beaming in a mixture of arrogance and confidence. With his eyes hidden behind his star shaped shades, Magnus Gunner stares around the arena, peering at the audience who greets him with mixed reactions. Magnus Gunner suddenly but slowly hoists his arm into the air like a teacher trying to get her unruly class quiet and his gesture causes his theme tune to cut to an abrupt end. The anticipation and tension of the arena is cut with the proverbial knife at the hands of Magnus Gunner whose lips begin to move before sounds escape his mouth as the “Rock Messiah” addresses the LDWA for the very first time.
-:[Magnus Gunner]:-
“Superstars like me, extraordinary superstars like me have been stripped of their glamour and recognition. No one believes in the conception of a high flying, death defying underdog reaching the pinnacle of sports entertainment. No one believes in someone like me grabbing that brass ring and reaching superstardom. People like me, the overlooked continue to get degraded, as are rendered, free spirited, swashbuckling weirdoes who only achieve the level of the mid-card. Other than that, we are portrayed as jobbers, bums, worthless trash, expandable even. People like me; superstars like me are turned away and remain stepping stones for 300 pound douche bags with speech impediments who couldn’t properly work a match if their life depended on it. Alright I'm talking about John Castle, if it wasn't obvious enough.”
Magnus Gunner rubs the rim of his chin and leans on the ropes, and as he scans the arena, he notices more fans starting to become more attentive to his rant. With more spectators unwaxing, unplugging their ears to his rant, Magnus Gunner projects his voice louder, and takes more time to annunciate. He clears his throat and simultaneously removes his shades from his face with his free hand before tucking them in his vest pocket. The “Loaded Pistol” then smiles at the fans a fictitious grin, glowing with feigned modesty. After his own brief interruption, Magnus Gunner continues with his little speech.
-:[Magnus Gunner]:-
“The only thing that pisses me off more as the wrestling world proceeds is the emerging of self gratified pretty boys who hold the names of washed up big shots. I could bust my ass off my entire career and I might never get an opportunity or even win a World Title, but someone whose dad owns this dump might just hand his son, or daughter the company’s most prestigious heirloom. Just because my last name isn’t Banks, doesn’t mean I should be booked against superstars; fuck that, talent less pansies much, much beneath me. But I’ll tell you one thing, even if I were half a man, no Banks could be anywhere near the man that I am.
Unlike N.C., I wasn’t handed everything that I wanted. I wasn’t spoiled. I bust my fucking ass to get here, to LDWA, some corny promotion who only gets national recognition because its linked to Eagle Vision Pro Wrestling. Yeah, you hippies know it. The only reason I’m here is because I’m looking to hit the big time… primetime.
Banks, you think your career will progress because your dad can bribe people and writes everyone’s fucking checks but you’re dead wrong. They’ll never call your sorry ass up and you’ll never be a main event, you’ll never be the man because in the wrestling business, they look for talent, raw talent, something which you’re green can not get you.
Yeah, you can buy the best trainers the world offers, but that won’t make you the best wrestler alive. Because the best wrestler alive is homemade, earth constructed. The best wrestler alive is self trained not self gratified. Ladies and Gents, the best wrestler alive is standing right here, before your very eyes. So take a picture, it might just last a while!”
Gunner’s latest comment elicits strong boos from the outskirts of the arena, but they don’t seem to faze Magnus, well negatively that is as he intimates signs of mirth. His smug grin slowly withers away and is replaced with an amused, almost taunting grin. Magnus pulls himself off the ropes and advances back to the center of the ring, once again making him the center of attention. With the arena currently in the palm of his very hand, Magnus Gunner continues his declamation.
-:[Magnus Gunner]:-
“Let me make a few things explicitly clear to you incompetent fools in the front row, or in the nosebleeds or even you sorry Sallies in the back. I will never run out here just to amuse you people. I won’t purposely get my ass handed to me, or deliberately injure myself just to have you drop your pop corn. No, I won’t be a Ryan Hughes or a D. Pirate or any other mindless twit currently glued to their T.V. screens as we speak.
No, every Monday Night, until I get that one phone call, I will come out here to take care of business. Punish the competition; bury a dagger draped with fear into the hearts of my opposition. Blood will be spilt and egos will be damaged but when it’s all said in done, when my mission to reach the promise land has reached its very end, I’ll be standing triumphant in this ring, holding the Lion’s Pride Title high above my head.
So O’Connell and whoever else may run this shitty building, here’s my gift to you.”
Magnus Gunner heaves his free hand into the air, with his index and pinkie fingers standing tall and pointing out whilst his remaining fingers are pinned down by his thumb. “The Rock Messiah” exhibits the horns to the sold out spectrum and cocks his head back, before pulling himself back down to everyone’s level. Magnus Gunner then slowly commences to slide the microphone back up to his lips before finishing his speech, making his final remarks.
-:[Magnus Gunner:]-
“The contemplating is over. No more depriving your self of a good night’s rest, or staying up later than usual figuring out how put on the best show.
Ladies and Gentlemen, fuck that obese, hopeless, pot smoking diseases because face it, that’s what you are. YOUR POSTER BOY IS HERE!!!
The search is over.
The Main Attraction has arrived, the diamond has been dug out.
My comrades, my employers no more stress no more problems.
Magnus Gunner, “The Loaded Pistol”, the “Rock Messiah” is here.
And I promise you, before I flee this dump, I will be the Heavyweight Champion.
I Guaran-danm-tee-it!"
After his final give escapes his lips, Magnus Gunner tosses the microphone aside and almost on cue, his theme tune once again blasts on the P.A. System. As a self absorbed, highly egotistical Magnus Gunner remains standing in the center of the ring, LDWA cuts to a quick commercial break.
-:[Magnus Gunner]:-
“Superstars like me, extraordinary superstars like me have been stripped of their glamour and recognition. No one believes in the conception of a high flying, death defying underdog reaching the pinnacle of sports entertainment. No one believes in someone like me grabbing that brass ring and reaching superstardom. People like me, the overlooked continue to get degraded, as are rendered, free spirited, swashbuckling weirdoes who only achieve the level of the mid-card. Other than that, we are portrayed as jobbers, bums, worthless trash, expandable even. People like me; superstars like me are turned away and remain stepping stones for 300 pound douche bags with speech impediments who couldn’t properly work a match if their life depended on it. Alright I'm talking about John Castle, if it wasn't obvious enough.”
Magnus Gunner rubs the rim of his chin and leans on the ropes, and as he scans the arena, he notices more fans starting to become more attentive to his rant. With more spectators unwaxing, unplugging their ears to his rant, Magnus Gunner projects his voice louder, and takes more time to annunciate. He clears his throat and simultaneously removes his shades from his face with his free hand before tucking them in his vest pocket. The “Loaded Pistol” then smiles at the fans a fictitious grin, glowing with feigned modesty. After his own brief interruption, Magnus Gunner continues with his little speech.
-:[Magnus Gunner]:-
“The only thing that pisses me off more as the wrestling world proceeds is the emerging of self gratified pretty boys who hold the names of washed up big shots. I could bust my ass off my entire career and I might never get an opportunity or even win a World Title, but someone whose dad owns this dump might just hand his son, or daughter the company’s most prestigious heirloom. Just because my last name isn’t Banks, doesn’t mean I should be booked against superstars; fuck that, talent less pansies much, much beneath me. But I’ll tell you one thing, even if I were half a man, no Banks could be anywhere near the man that I am.
Unlike N.C., I wasn’t handed everything that I wanted. I wasn’t spoiled. I bust my fucking ass to get here, to LDWA, some corny promotion who only gets national recognition because its linked to Eagle Vision Pro Wrestling. Yeah, you hippies know it. The only reason I’m here is because I’m looking to hit the big time… primetime.
Banks, you think your career will progress because your dad can bribe people and writes everyone’s fucking checks but you’re dead wrong. They’ll never call your sorry ass up and you’ll never be a main event, you’ll never be the man because in the wrestling business, they look for talent, raw talent, something which you’re green can not get you.
Yeah, you can buy the best trainers the world offers, but that won’t make you the best wrestler alive. Because the best wrestler alive is homemade, earth constructed. The best wrestler alive is self trained not self gratified. Ladies and Gents, the best wrestler alive is standing right here, before your very eyes. So take a picture, it might just last a while!”
Gunner’s latest comment elicits strong boos from the outskirts of the arena, but they don’t seem to faze Magnus, well negatively that is as he intimates signs of mirth. His smug grin slowly withers away and is replaced with an amused, almost taunting grin. Magnus pulls himself off the ropes and advances back to the center of the ring, once again making him the center of attention. With the arena currently in the palm of his very hand, Magnus Gunner continues his declamation.
-:[Magnus Gunner]:-
“Let me make a few things explicitly clear to you incompetent fools in the front row, or in the nosebleeds or even you sorry Sallies in the back. I will never run out here just to amuse you people. I won’t purposely get my ass handed to me, or deliberately injure myself just to have you drop your pop corn. No, I won’t be a Ryan Hughes or a D. Pirate or any other mindless twit currently glued to their T.V. screens as we speak.
No, every Monday Night, until I get that one phone call, I will come out here to take care of business. Punish the competition; bury a dagger draped with fear into the hearts of my opposition. Blood will be spilt and egos will be damaged but when it’s all said in done, when my mission to reach the promise land has reached its very end, I’ll be standing triumphant in this ring, holding the Lion’s Pride Title high above my head.
So O’Connell and whoever else may run this shitty building, here’s my gift to you.”
Magnus Gunner heaves his free hand into the air, with his index and pinkie fingers standing tall and pointing out whilst his remaining fingers are pinned down by his thumb. “The Rock Messiah” exhibits the horns to the sold out spectrum and cocks his head back, before pulling himself back down to everyone’s level. Magnus Gunner then slowly commences to slide the microphone back up to his lips before finishing his speech, making his final remarks.
-:[Magnus Gunner:]-
“The contemplating is over. No more depriving your self of a good night’s rest, or staying up later than usual figuring out how put on the best show.
Ladies and Gentlemen, fuck that obese, hopeless, pot smoking diseases because face it, that’s what you are. YOUR POSTER BOY IS HERE!!!
The search is over.
The Main Attraction has arrived, the diamond has been dug out.
My comrades, my employers no more stress no more problems.
Magnus Gunner, “The Loaded Pistol”, the “Rock Messiah” is here.
And I promise you, before I flee this dump, I will be the Heavyweight Champion.
I Guaran-danm-tee-it!"
After his final give escapes his lips, Magnus Gunner tosses the microphone aside and almost on cue, his theme tune once again blasts on the P.A. System. As a self absorbed, highly egotistical Magnus Gunner remains standing in the center of the ring, LDWA cuts to a quick commercial break.
-EOT- All insults are in character.