Post by MasterEvil on Jun 29, 2012 17:49:43 GMT
Here I sit, in this hotel room, all alone on this double bed. I defeated Chase McMahon on the Adrenaline Supershow…shouldn’t I be happy? Why do I feel like nothing’s changed? Why do I feel like it is just a matter of time until people want me gone? Hell, who wants an outcast like me here? I can’t associate myself with anyone here for every week is the goddamn same…I get put down and some newbie automatically gets thrown above me. Maybe…could it be time for a change? A new atmosphere? A new roster? New competition? A new company? Maybe I’m thinking too much about this…for now I should shoot a promo towards Kevin Kilbourne. So I pulled out a simple camcorder, stood up and moved over to the draws opposite the bed. Once there I placed the recorder on the draws and pressed record before moving back over to the bed, where I sat down on before beginning this promo.
TBS: Tomorrow is Animosity but not some normal one, no…a draft special…meaning that anybody and ANYONE could end up in a new environment. But isn’t what caught my attention, what caught my attention instead is the match I have on that show…more specifically my opponent, Kevin Kilbourne. We are so different yet so alike…parallel if you will. We both been here in World Elite Wrestling for at least half a year and yet neither of us held a Championship. You’ve been given the big shot twice, the most recent being at the main event of Legacy, both times you failed and ended up dropped down the card at meteoric pace…while I have yet to actually have a big shot and ended up being dropped for no justified reason. Do I have to do a you, Kev? Do I have to change my name and who I am to finally be given an opportunity? If so then screw opportunity, I’d rather be known as the one who been screwed over than known as the corporate drool who changed who he was to put a smile on some Burke’s face. Individuality is the one value I still possess and, unlike people like you and Alister Bane, I would rather die than lose it.
As I begin talking my legs crossed up on the bed to improved my balance slightly without the need of touching the floor. Me and Kevin are indeed parallel in the sense I have spoken. I honestly think that our main difference, discounting the sheer experience advantage the formerly TK have over me, is that he represents the Green and I represents the Blue…but what could happen if we end up being on the same show? Would it be interesting? Or would it possibly damn one of us onto the pre-show?
TBS: But why may I criticise a simple change of a name…a title? You’ve been giving two World Title shots while I never been given a simple number one contendership match…but then again, maybe I’m the who have benefited from this? No one expects me to win, so I ended up never disappointing people…meanwhile you failed not once but twice, and now you’re nearly opening the show with me. You’ve lost the most out of the Legacy aftermath while, if anything, I’m worth more now than I ever did before Retribution. So who shall the favourite be in this two man war? You? The hyper experienced dud who tried and failed and tried and failed time and time again. Or me? A man who as yet to be legitimately beaten for three odd months? Yes, I’ve set the record for the shortest time in the Retribution Rumble and yes, Serenity low blowed me to steal my Television Title shot…but for the past three months people like Justin Blade, Vantage, Purgatory, Brian James, Serenity and Chase McMahon have all tried and failed to make me submit or pin my shoulders down for a three count. So am I worried about a twenty-eight year old kid wanting to be hardcore? The simple answer is no…
My voice spoke confidence while body language possibly indicated utter calmness…almost iciness if you will. But one thing as actually amused me, including my twenty-eight day hiatus, I have spent at least ninety days undefeated in the terms of pinfalls and submissions…who knows, I might end up doing a Jason Reso and never get pinned or submitted for twenty-eight odd months. Oh god, could you imagine the looks on the faces of my critics? I would love to have a picture of that all over my locker room. After saying the simple word of “no” my right hand pulled out a book from under the mattress. Once my hand pulled it out I placed the book to my side to reveal, to the camcorder, what the title of this book is…the Lord of the Rings.
TBS: Here is the reason I am not worried about you, your antics and your credibility Kevin. You live in a world of fiction where you can be whoever you want to be, I don’t live in fiction…I live in a world of twilight. A world where wrong is right and right is wrong, I live in a world where reason is senseless and this world is the reason I can do shit that no sane individual has the balls to do. What are you going to do Kevin? Impersonate a Hobbit again? Visit the senile version of the Justice League? Chat up London Tipton? I don’t know what you plan on doing, neither do I care, but here is what I’m going to be doing…throughout the night I’ll be consoling the demons, who haunts me with the ammunition of four years grief, and from the moment I have breakfast to the moment I enter the arena I’ll be enduring the sins of a thousand sinners. Then with the cameras rolling on that fateful night of Animosity, do whatever your fictional mind wish, it will all end the way it was written in the stars, a million miles away…me standing tall as the victor.
While I spoke out my reason of why I’m “not worried” about my opponent tomorrow, my legs uncrossed themselves and my body began to slowly slide down the edge of the bed. After I finished speaking about what “my world” is like, my body finally slid fully down onto the floor. With my back resting against the front of this double bed my headed started to do a slight rocking from the right to the left and back while I spoke of what I’ll be doing tonight and tomorrow…after I finished my words I stood myself up and moved over to the camcorder before picking it up.
TBS: Here is a question for you Kevin Kilbourne…why? Why do thou choose to live in a world of fiction when the real world around thee leaves you behind? Could it be that you were neglected as a child? Were you unloved by your parents? Were you abused by your father every time he came back from the pub? Was his abuse physical? Emotional? Sexual? Could the comforting arms of your babysitter holding you close as she read you fairytales be the reason for your fictional beliefs and fictional psyche? Wasn’t Lena leaving you like a piece of trash a reason enough to finally do something about the retardation of your mentality? I’m not going to lie to you, Kevin, I respect you so fucking deeply…but now half that respect has been replaced with the pity I feel for you right now, you’re going nowhere but down a downward spiral of failure and the worst thing about it is that you seem to already know this. You know what? I’m sorry for possibly making you relive some of the darkest moments of your life…so as an apology present, I’ll give your fantasy based mind a story.
While I spoke directly to the camera lens my legs began to lead me in a direction they preferred to go to. Luckily this isn’t a one star hotel, or else you would hear the floor constantly creaking instead of me talking. But maybe that is a good thing since must American audiences commonly dislike the idea of a Brit being a good guy…maybe it because of how different how accents are compared to them, since that country have like approximately twenty-six different accents. While treading air to say my last sentence I shifted the camcorder slightly so that it could see the bookshelf that my feet decided to take me to. Once I spoke out my words I pulled out a book and moved back over to the bed before placing the recorder on the piece of furniture, facing in my direction. Afterwards I sat down on the floor, crossing my legs while I did do, and opened the book in front of my face, but not enough in front so the camera lens could see my eyes and the top of my nose. It was then that I began to read out this story.
TBS: Once upon a time there was a young pauper boy called Kevin. Throughout his troubled childhood this young boy kept telling himself that he will one day be a somebody. At the age of seventeen the child found a flier about a tournament of swordplay where the winner not only obtain fifteen shillings, but also becomes a knight’s apprentice. Luckily for the teen a sword were to be handed to each competitor on that day, so with a stick in hand the pauper trained and trained again with that stick until the fateful day came. When he signed up the boy first thought that he is going to get crushed at the first opportunity, and the tournament was indeed gruelling…but somehow, someway, Kevin made it to the finals to face the odds on favourite. Pressure was there but Kevin steeled on and managed to connect with the one hit that knocked the big man out, winning there tournament in the process. Throughout the following eight years Kevin had little choice but to do what the knight said, from polishing his sword to cleaning after his horse. Yet with each week the boy learnt more and more about knighthood before being eventually worthy of his own stallion, his own armour and his own blade. During his first three years of knighthood Kevin was humble to both the people and the monarchy…by the time he reached twenty-eight he was the most loved knight in the kingdom. Yet one day a wanderer cloaked in black came to the kingdom and pleaded for refuge of just one night. The beautiful princess decreed that this stranger can stay for one night and no less. During that night the skies turned red and screeches could be heard throughout the village. While the rest of the knights rushed off to town Kevin heard the faintest scream from within the castle. So, with sword in right and shield in left, he ran deep into the castle and into the royal chambers. The sight was horrifying…the curtains were shredded, the mat is ripped, both the walls and ceiling were coated in blood…and on the torn mattress of the bed sat the cloaked stranger, with the ravaged princess on his lap. The knight foolishly charged at the stranger and within a blink of an eye the stranger got up, threw the regal carcass onto the bed and held dear Kevin, by his throat, against the wall. The stranger leaned slightly forwards, so his lips were by Kevin ear, and whispered “I Am The Broken Saint, Break Me…I Don’t Care…” before slitting the knight’s throat.
Lucky for me that I managed to get a hard cover that not only blocked the title from being seen but also made the book look bigger than it really is…if anyone really found out that I’m actually holding a Mr. Men book entitled “Mr. Worry” my pretend reading age is shot. Even though I don’t read much I did try to keep my story compelling…I probably failed to do so but while I spoke out my next bunch of words I began to slowly move the book down to show my entire face to the camcorder.
TBS: The princess is dead…the kingdom collapsed without its monarch…and after twenty-eight years of hard fighting, dear Kevin will lose…the end…
Once those last two word exited my mouth my right hand reached out and pressed the stop button on the camcorder. Amusing how I’ve decided to not end the promo with my usual catchphrase…I guess everyone has a right to do their promo in anyway he or she wishes. I put the book away and packed the camcorder up before sitting back down on the bed, reading a batman comic…what? My reading age could have been a lot better if books like Lord of the Rings actually had pictures in it instead of constant blobs of text.