Post by Zak Warner on Nov 4, 2012 2:29:23 GMT -4
We open up in a familiar, clichéd dark room, its inhabitants swimming in shadows, all in a desperate bid to make the scene seem atmospheric and a little bit mysterious, perhaps even holding a tinge of danger and things of a fear inducing nature.
All through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a…
Footsteps echo quietly, the sound bouncing from the walls with the tenderness of your average feather falling from the sky. Perhaps even a leaf falling from a tree as a couple walk underneath. Something of that rosey tinted description.
The gentle clicks of plastic being manipulated ring out like gun shots in the docile silence, until music begins to play, radiating from all corners of the room. Nothing to loud or abrasive, but enough to fill the shadows.
“I love this song, I really do. ‘Tithemi’ by Sleeping Giant. Even though religion is something I lack, this song just seems to speak to me. I doubt many of you have heard it, doesn’t really surprise me. You’re all nothing but a collection of uncultured fuckers, constantly sucking on a stream of consciousness known as the Main Stream, content to follow whatever style or life that’s sat in front of you, perfectly happy with your blind mediocrity.
Not me though, no, not me.”
The lights flicker, and from the darkness emerges a face unknown to this world. The scars that line his cheeks show the wear and tear that was acquired through the years. Yet, for a man that seems as though he has seen his fare share of battles, his eyes still burn with a ferocity unlike any other.
”Granted, Uncultured has been a word used to describe me on more than one occasion, but it is better suited for you all. For years, I’ve watched in disgust as this business, this SPORT breeds more and more generic soldiers to march into war, different flags held high in pride and ignorance. A generation of Jim Bob’s and Joe Schmoes, oh the future looks bright doesn’t it? Sure does, if a second wave of boredom and a distinct lack of life and flair is your thing.
2012, the year of boredom and the overrated.”
He reaches behind his ear, pulling out a cigarette. From his pockets he pulls a lighter, and with the slightest of flicks it is lit. He inhales deeply, the addictively calming smoke flowing against the light.
”I watched as the few free-thinkers, the few artists in this industry went unheard and ignored for the longest time. For months, no let me correct that…for years the few with their own voice were ignored. I’ve seen so many people get passed over, names that very well SHOULD be legends are just brushed under the rug. People like Reckless Jack, Lost Soul, Angel…these people get shit on, when they deserve to be the face of this business. The saddest part of this all is the fact that I doubt a single person listening to this recognizes those names. Names like T-Money, Daniel Vice…they mean NOTHING. It fucking sickens me. Without them, people like myself wouldn’t have a corner to piss in. People with no emotion and no distinct personality get labeled as role models, they are considered people that kids try to be like while the true legends get forgotten.
The sad fact is that this has been happening since 2006, if not longer. Yeah, I’m a bit older than some in this place, but that isn’t what this is about. There are two companies, ones that I helped build that I’ve seen get destroyed due to a distinct lack of caring. EPW, and GWC…two companies that should have gone down in the history books, but instead are barely registered as a footnote in the lore of wrestling. Do any of you know what it feels like to watch something that you poured your heart and soul into get driven into the ground? When people that are in it just for the paycheck become the high and mighty, there isn’t much to be done. Not even I could change all too much, as brilliant as I am. Sure I had my followers, but they were certainly the minority, the rest ignored.”
At this point, you would expect a video clip to run. Some cliché package showing the fallen heroes that Zak spoke of. Of course, if you knew him at all you would know that Zak wasn’t the type to do things the normal way.
”But then, something happened. A few people left and one or two began to shine. People took notice at what was possible, but they saw perhaps too late. One by one, the trailblazers left, gone forever, but their marks were still made, no matter how small. I stayed with both of those places until the day their doors shut forever. At that point, I had given up hope. I had accepted that this industry had taken a turn that I would never support. I was quite content with my life, raising my son and living each day as if it were my last. Yet, no matter how hard I tried to escape the life I had once led, it still haunted me.
I found myself scouring the world, from continent to continent in order to find a place worth my time and energy. I’ve had offers left and ride from places, some offering a chance at stardom while others were just looking to make a quick buck off the name of a former champion. But then, I caught wind of a place called APW. A place that never once came to me, instead allowing me to come to them.
That’s why I’m back. I’ve seen that change can occur. Perhaps this time, my ability will not be cast aside by the weak and pathetic. Maybe this time, originality will shine.
I’ve set my sights on a pedestal that will allow my rule to spread out to the world like never before.
There is quite a bit of irony in the fact that my debut here is in a tag match. All it takes is a bit of research to find out that of all my accomplishments in the wrestling world, the ones that stand out the most are my reigns in a number of tag teams. In two different companies, I helped single handedly redefine the tag team division. Yet none of that matters now. What I did back in 08, 09…does any of that really matter?
You expect the stories don’t you? That seems to be considered the social norm here. Everybody tells a tale about how they accomplish something that has nothing to do with the task at hand. Past accomplishments are spoken of as if they happened only yesterday. After it’s told, praise is given in cheers and blowjobs.
But I’m done with those. I have no more past to speak of. To sit here and praise myself would be a waste of everybody’s time. If I thought for a second that any of that would give me an advantage in this match, I wouldn’t hesitate to speak of it all. If anybody sincerely cares about what I’ve done, go use that wonderful thing called Google and let the search results speak for themselves.
I refuse to fall into the category of the mundane. I won’t sit here and give you the cliché “I’m so much better than Sons of the South, they are going down” sort of speech that unfortunately pops up every time 98% of the population gets a microphone in front of their face. Instead, I will leave you with a few simple words of wisdom.
First off, Donald…believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about. I don’t know you, you don’t know me…but we both want to win. I have no doubt our paths will cross down the road, but for this week I have your back as long as you have mine. We don’t have the chemistry that our opponents have…but based on what I’ve seen, our skill is more than enough to make up for that.
To the rest of APW…I hope you are ready, because I’m not like anything you’ve ever seen.”
Suddenly the lights flicker, and the room is plunged into darkness. The music cuts out, and for the briefest of moments it is as though the world has ceased to exist. Then without warning, the lights in the room burn bright, illuminating the word ‘Warner’ painted all over the walls. He stands in the middle of the room, a eerily calm grin stretched wide across his face.
"The evolution is coming, a revolution has begun.
So shoot up my Addicts, the flag of Warner will soon be flying high.”
All through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a…
Footsteps echo quietly, the sound bouncing from the walls with the tenderness of your average feather falling from the sky. Perhaps even a leaf falling from a tree as a couple walk underneath. Something of that rosey tinted description.
The gentle clicks of plastic being manipulated ring out like gun shots in the docile silence, until music begins to play, radiating from all corners of the room. Nothing to loud or abrasive, but enough to fill the shadows.
“I love this song, I really do. ‘Tithemi’ by Sleeping Giant. Even though religion is something I lack, this song just seems to speak to me. I doubt many of you have heard it, doesn’t really surprise me. You’re all nothing but a collection of uncultured fuckers, constantly sucking on a stream of consciousness known as the Main Stream, content to follow whatever style or life that’s sat in front of you, perfectly happy with your blind mediocrity.
Not me though, no, not me.”
The lights flicker, and from the darkness emerges a face unknown to this world. The scars that line his cheeks show the wear and tear that was acquired through the years. Yet, for a man that seems as though he has seen his fare share of battles, his eyes still burn with a ferocity unlike any other.
”Granted, Uncultured has been a word used to describe me on more than one occasion, but it is better suited for you all. For years, I’ve watched in disgust as this business, this SPORT breeds more and more generic soldiers to march into war, different flags held high in pride and ignorance. A generation of Jim Bob’s and Joe Schmoes, oh the future looks bright doesn’t it? Sure does, if a second wave of boredom and a distinct lack of life and flair is your thing.
2012, the year of boredom and the overrated.”
He reaches behind his ear, pulling out a cigarette. From his pockets he pulls a lighter, and with the slightest of flicks it is lit. He inhales deeply, the addictively calming smoke flowing against the light.
”I watched as the few free-thinkers, the few artists in this industry went unheard and ignored for the longest time. For months, no let me correct that…for years the few with their own voice were ignored. I’ve seen so many people get passed over, names that very well SHOULD be legends are just brushed under the rug. People like Reckless Jack, Lost Soul, Angel…these people get shit on, when they deserve to be the face of this business. The saddest part of this all is the fact that I doubt a single person listening to this recognizes those names. Names like T-Money, Daniel Vice…they mean NOTHING. It fucking sickens me. Without them, people like myself wouldn’t have a corner to piss in. People with no emotion and no distinct personality get labeled as role models, they are considered people that kids try to be like while the true legends get forgotten.
The sad fact is that this has been happening since 2006, if not longer. Yeah, I’m a bit older than some in this place, but that isn’t what this is about. There are two companies, ones that I helped build that I’ve seen get destroyed due to a distinct lack of caring. EPW, and GWC…two companies that should have gone down in the history books, but instead are barely registered as a footnote in the lore of wrestling. Do any of you know what it feels like to watch something that you poured your heart and soul into get driven into the ground? When people that are in it just for the paycheck become the high and mighty, there isn’t much to be done. Not even I could change all too much, as brilliant as I am. Sure I had my followers, but they were certainly the minority, the rest ignored.”
At this point, you would expect a video clip to run. Some cliché package showing the fallen heroes that Zak spoke of. Of course, if you knew him at all you would know that Zak wasn’t the type to do things the normal way.
”But then, something happened. A few people left and one or two began to shine. People took notice at what was possible, but they saw perhaps too late. One by one, the trailblazers left, gone forever, but their marks were still made, no matter how small. I stayed with both of those places until the day their doors shut forever. At that point, I had given up hope. I had accepted that this industry had taken a turn that I would never support. I was quite content with my life, raising my son and living each day as if it were my last. Yet, no matter how hard I tried to escape the life I had once led, it still haunted me.
I found myself scouring the world, from continent to continent in order to find a place worth my time and energy. I’ve had offers left and ride from places, some offering a chance at stardom while others were just looking to make a quick buck off the name of a former champion. But then, I caught wind of a place called APW. A place that never once came to me, instead allowing me to come to them.
That’s why I’m back. I’ve seen that change can occur. Perhaps this time, my ability will not be cast aside by the weak and pathetic. Maybe this time, originality will shine.
I’ve set my sights on a pedestal that will allow my rule to spread out to the world like never before.
There is quite a bit of irony in the fact that my debut here is in a tag match. All it takes is a bit of research to find out that of all my accomplishments in the wrestling world, the ones that stand out the most are my reigns in a number of tag teams. In two different companies, I helped single handedly redefine the tag team division. Yet none of that matters now. What I did back in 08, 09…does any of that really matter?
You expect the stories don’t you? That seems to be considered the social norm here. Everybody tells a tale about how they accomplish something that has nothing to do with the task at hand. Past accomplishments are spoken of as if they happened only yesterday. After it’s told, praise is given in cheers and blowjobs.
But I’m done with those. I have no more past to speak of. To sit here and praise myself would be a waste of everybody’s time. If I thought for a second that any of that would give me an advantage in this match, I wouldn’t hesitate to speak of it all. If anybody sincerely cares about what I’ve done, go use that wonderful thing called Google and let the search results speak for themselves.
I refuse to fall into the category of the mundane. I won’t sit here and give you the cliché “I’m so much better than Sons of the South, they are going down” sort of speech that unfortunately pops up every time 98% of the population gets a microphone in front of their face. Instead, I will leave you with a few simple words of wisdom.
First off, Donald…believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about. I don’t know you, you don’t know me…but we both want to win. I have no doubt our paths will cross down the road, but for this week I have your back as long as you have mine. We don’t have the chemistry that our opponents have…but based on what I’ve seen, our skill is more than enough to make up for that.
To the rest of APW…I hope you are ready, because I’m not like anything you’ve ever seen.”
Suddenly the lights flicker, and the room is plunged into darkness. The music cuts out, and for the briefest of moments it is as though the world has ceased to exist. Then without warning, the lights in the room burn bright, illuminating the word ‘Warner’ painted all over the walls. He stands in the middle of the room, a eerily calm grin stretched wide across his face.
"The evolution is coming, a revolution has begun.
So shoot up my Addicts, the flag of Warner will soon be flying high.”
