Post by kahlan on Jun 7, 2009 11:03:29 GMT -5
The scene opens to a titration through time, many famous wrestlers and companies all around the world being picked and thrown into a running form of motion pictures. The film starts in black and white, indicating the ages from which the pictures were taken from, and gradually improves, both in quality and in colour as we sail forward. With all of this, a very full, vocally stable voice, devoid of any impeding accents, begins its narration. The only companion with the voice is the gentle piano being played masterfully in the background.
“Wrestling, a true man’s sport, dating from times before the birth of Christ, had always attracted a mesmerised group of people to horde around the fighters. From about forty years ago, a new born form of this exciting, athletic physiques demanding sport, began to exist in the form of professional wrestling. The very first of these companies were so successful, that they immediately began to grow and the industries began to multiply in numbers. The population of professionals in the business grew and so did the number of supporters, in a logarithmic scale.”
The time scale finally reaches to a comparatively younger period in the immediate past. The TIW and the GHW federations, both are being screened through their peak and troughs, highlighting their legends and champions, their giants and their glorious, respectively. Then, it is time for EVPW and some selectively spotted superstars.
“From Eagle Vision Pro Wrestling, where legends, who would always be remembered in the history of the greatest to ever exist, were born, there came the first impulse of life in a new form. Lion’s Den Wrestling Association, where a whole new version of supremacy robbed the hearts of the true wrestling fans.”
A train of faces and styles blurt out, one after the other, showcasing the wardrobe of fame, that LDWA’s federation carries in the form of superstars.
“Charisma!”
Monster Cock’s voice is raised over the piano’s music, “Buk... Bawk... BU-GAWK! Buk, buk, buk, bawk, bawk, cock-a-doodle-doo!”
“Passion!”
Ryan “the Batman” Hughes strives to make the impossible happen.
“Arrogance!”
Proeliator, in his long black, leather trench coat, stares straight in defiance and audacity.
“Darkness!”
Raven, evilly and lecherously gawks at a helpless victim.
“Power!”
Samoa Joel delivering a thunderous Samoan Drop to a knocked out opponent.
“Glory!”
Magnus Gunner, bruised and battered, lifting two titles in each of both hands, head dropped back screaming in triumph.
“Unconquered wickedness!”
The Hardcore King, Vladimir Strife, smashes the head of a totally helpless diva through a table with his raised boot.”
“And then, it all changes.”
“…”
A slight pause and a black background takes the colour and drama away from the commercial, when the gentle music is suddenly engulfed, and unceremoniously, fast paced drums begin to initiate noise and with it, only a couple of seconds behind, an electric guitar’s pounding, tunes in with the drums. A hand held tight in a fist appears, underneath it written in white font the words, ‘Rock’, which moments later changes to an open palm with the text beneath it reading, ‘Paper’, and finally that is transformed to a raised backhand fist, the middle finger sticking up taunting, ‘FUCK YOU’!
As soon as it was started, the music dies. In complete silence, the complete form of a staring face fades into the view. The face, slightly shaded with dark facial hair, longer on the moustache and around the chin region, with deep brown eyes and lightly long brown hair, has his mouth insignificantly twisted to the side and forehead contoured, while his eyebrows are knit together. Overall, the radiant dismay is impossible to misjudge or be unable to trace.
A stamp appears and diagonally, stamps two words in red pain over the black and white picture of the face.
“Merrick Maximilian.”
END
“Wrestling, a true man’s sport, dating from times before the birth of Christ, had always attracted a mesmerised group of people to horde around the fighters. From about forty years ago, a new born form of this exciting, athletic physiques demanding sport, began to exist in the form of professional wrestling. The very first of these companies were so successful, that they immediately began to grow and the industries began to multiply in numbers. The population of professionals in the business grew and so did the number of supporters, in a logarithmic scale.”
The time scale finally reaches to a comparatively younger period in the immediate past. The TIW and the GHW federations, both are being screened through their peak and troughs, highlighting their legends and champions, their giants and their glorious, respectively. Then, it is time for EVPW and some selectively spotted superstars.
“From Eagle Vision Pro Wrestling, where legends, who would always be remembered in the history of the greatest to ever exist, were born, there came the first impulse of life in a new form. Lion’s Den Wrestling Association, where a whole new version of supremacy robbed the hearts of the true wrestling fans.”
A train of faces and styles blurt out, one after the other, showcasing the wardrobe of fame, that LDWA’s federation carries in the form of superstars.
“Charisma!”
Monster Cock’s voice is raised over the piano’s music, “Buk... Bawk... BU-GAWK! Buk, buk, buk, bawk, bawk, cock-a-doodle-doo!”
“Passion!”
Ryan “the Batman” Hughes strives to make the impossible happen.
“Arrogance!”
Proeliator, in his long black, leather trench coat, stares straight in defiance and audacity.
“Darkness!”
Raven, evilly and lecherously gawks at a helpless victim.
“Power!”
Samoa Joel delivering a thunderous Samoan Drop to a knocked out opponent.
“Glory!”
Magnus Gunner, bruised and battered, lifting two titles in each of both hands, head dropped back screaming in triumph.
“Unconquered wickedness!”
The Hardcore King, Vladimir Strife, smashes the head of a totally helpless diva through a table with his raised boot.”
“And then, it all changes.”
“…”
A slight pause and a black background takes the colour and drama away from the commercial, when the gentle music is suddenly engulfed, and unceremoniously, fast paced drums begin to initiate noise and with it, only a couple of seconds behind, an electric guitar’s pounding, tunes in with the drums. A hand held tight in a fist appears, underneath it written in white font the words, ‘Rock’, which moments later changes to an open palm with the text beneath it reading, ‘Paper’, and finally that is transformed to a raised backhand fist, the middle finger sticking up taunting, ‘FUCK YOU’!
As soon as it was started, the music dies. In complete silence, the complete form of a staring face fades into the view. The face, slightly shaded with dark facial hair, longer on the moustache and around the chin region, with deep brown eyes and lightly long brown hair, has his mouth insignificantly twisted to the side and forehead contoured, while his eyebrows are knit together. Overall, the radiant dismay is impossible to misjudge or be unable to trace.
A stamp appears and diagonally, stamps two words in red pain over the black and white picture of the face.
“Merrick Maximilian.”
END
