Post by "The Hottest Shit Going" on Feb 26, 2009 19:16:29 GMT -4
A car smashes around the corner slidding sideways leaving bits of rubber on the road behind. The Plymouth Roadrunner is gassed up as it straightens out and the right corner of the car lifts slightly as it barrels forward. The brakes are mahsed, and the car slides to a pause. Suddenly an orange Mazda RX8 pulls up next to the old time muscle. The windows of both vehicles darkened with aftermarket tint. The Import tunner gets up to what is now the line where they two automobiles are nosed up to. The driver of the Mazda revs his engine by pressing the throttle. The motor roars as the blow off valve whistles, relaeasing prressure from the turbo. The Roadrunner answers that challenge by responding with a powerful roar of his engine simalar to that of a ragging beast.
A woman dressed for male pleasure walks out in front of the two cars. Her body tight, and showed off by the small amount of very snug fitting clothes. Whistles along with hoops and hollars ring out from the crowded streets. People line either side of the road waiting to catch a glimpse of the race. Itching to smell that fuel dumping from the exaust. The thrill of the race as the power roars by you. The adrenilin rush that comes with illegal racing
The tension is thick, and then tires spin, engines roar and the race is off. People cheer as the vehicle run down the streets. With a cloud of burnt rubber, the tunned machines bolt through the streets. Just then that pitch that can only come from a street bike xreams through the air. A bright white GSXR 1000 motorcycle pulls up. With a few revs of the engine the rider ontop of the bike stops the motor from running. He then leans the bike over on it's kick stand. People close by seem to stare at the mans bike, trying to catch a glimpse of any modifications he may have preformed. The mans leather gloved hands reach up, and unstrap the chin buckle on his matching white helmut. The helmut is then removed, revieling the rider as Michael Lively. He steps off the bike, looking at the muscle car, and import tunner making their way back after their heat.
The White Lion, and current world champion of APW leans against the bike's seat gandering at the spectacule that is the midnight street drags. Suddenly a familar voice calls out from behind the self proclaimed JESUS.
"Mr. Lively..."
With a roll of his eyes the JESUS then turns his head around to figure out if it was who he thought it was.
Lively: Chubs!! How did you find ME?
Chubs: It was tough, but I guess I'm resourceful. What are you doing out here. I mean you haven't been your sefl lately.
Lively: Myself...MYSELF. What exactly is myself, and how would you know what that is. I mean you have only been rolling with me for a few weeks.
Chubs: Well in the first week I got to see just how you opperate. I mean day and night having to follow you around for the other situation, you tend to learn how someone works. Prior to Carnage, you semed to snap. I mean the McDonalds thing, and now midnight drag racing on a motorcycle.
Lively: This here fatboy, isn't just a motorcycle...it's GSXR 1000...and tonight someone is about to get dusted for some serious cash.
As the two contnue their rant, a another rider sees Lively speaking to a cameraman and it gets his attention. He then strolls over peeking at the gorgeous white bike the JESUS is planted on.
Rider: Nice bike.
Lively: Yep!
Rider: So, I haven't seen you around here before.
Lively: NOPE!
Rider: I guess you aren't much for conversation,
Lively: Or maybe we should cut the bullshit. You wondered over here because I have a camera pointed at me. I'm sure you think, "Here's some new face, with a camera...I'm going to embarass him." So stretch nuts, hop on your bike, hit the line and lets do this.
Rider: What price are we looking at.
Lively: Twenty Grand.
Rider: Fuck that...I don't have that kind of cash.
Lively: It's cool, the last guy that knew he was going to loose...said the same shit.
Rider: All I brought was nien thousand....but I'll gladdly help reduce your wad tonight....if your game.
Lively: Listen here skippy dick, you aren't goading me into shit. You go borrow another grand from someone, walk up with ten in hand...and we can talk.
The rider ten walks off thinking to himself he is about t make an easy nine grand after paying back the thousand he is about to borrow. Lively smirks, and then looks back at the camera.
Chubs: Mike...were is the world title? Thats lke your American Express....you never leave home without it.
Lively just shrugs his shoulders as if he isn't sure where the belt is.
Lively: I guess someone in the road crew has it, I left it at the arena after war games...figured someone would take care of it till next show.
Chubs looking concerend about his employer, just keeps the camera rolling.
Chubs: Lively...so what is it...your so damn reckless, you don't have your title with you, and I haven't seen you kick you mother for about four day's. Are you sick or something. I mean maybe you should get checked out before Overdrive...if your not one hundred percent...Green is going to steam roll you.
The JESUS's eyebrows raise, and his head slowly turns toward the ground. Chubs smiles just a bit, but seems a little nervous. It seems he has sparked a nerve with Lively. This is good to know that the fire is stil inside the JESUS, but dangerous for the one that does the igniting. Lively then looks back up toward Chubs.
Lively: GREEN...you see that's exactly what I'm talking about. Didn't I just fight John Green. I have fought Jason ROyce three hundred and thirty two times as well. So This is how it' goes....the road to Rasstlemaina. This week it's John Green...next wekk It's Jason Royce, or maybe the Fyre Angel, then offered up to the chosen ONE!
Please...war games was a joke, the fact that I have to fight John Green agains is a joke. I wrestle more than anyone in this orginization...and that is what drives me. At the same very time,I thought winning this title would give me some respect. It would elevate ME in the eyes of management. Although to them...I"m just dolar signs, and PPV buy rates. They wish to bleed me dry. I can't tell you how many times I watched world champions in this fed have the easy road to the PPV. Get weeks off so they can be in the primest of shape. It's real eveident to ME, I'm on the death march.
Chubs: Death March???
Lively: You see, this sport is wrestling. I have fought off the worked finishes, and the planned outcomes...and went all out for the shoot. I finished MY matches, beat MY opponents. I didn't let some company dictate who was going over. Things here are sketchy, the rattings are dropping. I have been mowing through people. Management is in desperation mode. The have found their golden goose. I have a feeling that no matter how I thinks it's going to go, I may not be in control of this match. Not to mention I have to fight John Green again. I mean please Green is no threat, he is no worry to the JESUS. It's just more damage my body has to endure. Less time for MY muscles to recover. Rasstlemaina...the biggest show of the year, with the biggest match up the industry has seen in some time. Level One versus the JESUS. The buy rates are going to be huge, the tickets are sold out. My mind just keeps going to the fact that on a show like this, History has told the story that a situation of this calibur is going to crown a new champion. Well Level One is going to have one hell of a fight on his hands. I'm going to lay some stiff blows in, and not simply lay down for management.
As for Green, I mean what is there to say...if the APW wants a promo fro me on that...then maybe they can pull the tape from a few weeks back. Green probaly remembers what I said about him before, knows how I feel...and relaizes that my oppinion hasn't changed.
Just then the rider from earlier comes running over.
Rider: I got the cash big time...now loets see what you got!!!
Lively: Well if we are racing....it's going to be sitting on the handle bars, doing a wheelie down the strip....that is if you're not scared???
The rider stops cold for a moment. His worry written all over his face, as he then places his helmut on. Lively stradles the bike, turns the key and pushes the button igniting the engine of his GSXR. The man then tosses his helmut toward Chubs.
Chubs: Lively...what the fuck man...what about your helmut???
The mans voice is drowned out by the reving throttle of the motorcycle. Lively then pops a baby whellie as he then lunges for the line. Lively gets up to the line looking over at his opponent. Both men rev their engines, and then take off slow postiong thenselves on the handle bars. Simeltanesouly as the sit on the bars, the throttles rev, the front of the bikes lift, and they roar down the street.
A woman dressed for male pleasure walks out in front of the two cars. Her body tight, and showed off by the small amount of very snug fitting clothes. Whistles along with hoops and hollars ring out from the crowded streets. People line either side of the road waiting to catch a glimpse of the race. Itching to smell that fuel dumping from the exaust. The thrill of the race as the power roars by you. The adrenilin rush that comes with illegal racing
The tension is thick, and then tires spin, engines roar and the race is off. People cheer as the vehicle run down the streets. With a cloud of burnt rubber, the tunned machines bolt through the streets. Just then that pitch that can only come from a street bike xreams through the air. A bright white GSXR 1000 motorcycle pulls up. With a few revs of the engine the rider ontop of the bike stops the motor from running. He then leans the bike over on it's kick stand. People close by seem to stare at the mans bike, trying to catch a glimpse of any modifications he may have preformed. The mans leather gloved hands reach up, and unstrap the chin buckle on his matching white helmut. The helmut is then removed, revieling the rider as Michael Lively. He steps off the bike, looking at the muscle car, and import tunner making their way back after their heat.
The White Lion, and current world champion of APW leans against the bike's seat gandering at the spectacule that is the midnight street drags. Suddenly a familar voice calls out from behind the self proclaimed JESUS.
"Mr. Lively..."
With a roll of his eyes the JESUS then turns his head around to figure out if it was who he thought it was.
Lively: Chubs!! How did you find ME?
Chubs: It was tough, but I guess I'm resourceful. What are you doing out here. I mean you haven't been your sefl lately.
Lively: Myself...MYSELF. What exactly is myself, and how would you know what that is. I mean you have only been rolling with me for a few weeks.
Chubs: Well in the first week I got to see just how you opperate. I mean day and night having to follow you around for the other situation, you tend to learn how someone works. Prior to Carnage, you semed to snap. I mean the McDonalds thing, and now midnight drag racing on a motorcycle.
Lively: This here fatboy, isn't just a motorcycle...it's GSXR 1000...and tonight someone is about to get dusted for some serious cash.
As the two contnue their rant, a another rider sees Lively speaking to a cameraman and it gets his attention. He then strolls over peeking at the gorgeous white bike the JESUS is planted on.
Rider: Nice bike.
Lively: Yep!
Rider: So, I haven't seen you around here before.
Lively: NOPE!
Rider: I guess you aren't much for conversation,
Lively: Or maybe we should cut the bullshit. You wondered over here because I have a camera pointed at me. I'm sure you think, "Here's some new face, with a camera...I'm going to embarass him." So stretch nuts, hop on your bike, hit the line and lets do this.
Rider: What price are we looking at.
Lively: Twenty Grand.
Rider: Fuck that...I don't have that kind of cash.
Lively: It's cool, the last guy that knew he was going to loose...said the same shit.
Rider: All I brought was nien thousand....but I'll gladdly help reduce your wad tonight....if your game.
Lively: Listen here skippy dick, you aren't goading me into shit. You go borrow another grand from someone, walk up with ten in hand...and we can talk.
The rider ten walks off thinking to himself he is about t make an easy nine grand after paying back the thousand he is about to borrow. Lively smirks, and then looks back at the camera.
Chubs: Mike...were is the world title? Thats lke your American Express....you never leave home without it.
Lively just shrugs his shoulders as if he isn't sure where the belt is.
Lively: I guess someone in the road crew has it, I left it at the arena after war games...figured someone would take care of it till next show.
Chubs looking concerend about his employer, just keeps the camera rolling.
Chubs: Lively...so what is it...your so damn reckless, you don't have your title with you, and I haven't seen you kick you mother for about four day's. Are you sick or something. I mean maybe you should get checked out before Overdrive...if your not one hundred percent...Green is going to steam roll you.
The JESUS's eyebrows raise, and his head slowly turns toward the ground. Chubs smiles just a bit, but seems a little nervous. It seems he has sparked a nerve with Lively. This is good to know that the fire is stil inside the JESUS, but dangerous for the one that does the igniting. Lively then looks back up toward Chubs.
Lively: GREEN...you see that's exactly what I'm talking about. Didn't I just fight John Green. I have fought Jason ROyce three hundred and thirty two times as well. So This is how it' goes....the road to Rasstlemaina. This week it's John Green...next wekk It's Jason Royce, or maybe the Fyre Angel, then offered up to the chosen ONE!
Please...war games was a joke, the fact that I have to fight John Green agains is a joke. I wrestle more than anyone in this orginization...and that is what drives me. At the same very time,I thought winning this title would give me some respect. It would elevate ME in the eyes of management. Although to them...I"m just dolar signs, and PPV buy rates. They wish to bleed me dry. I can't tell you how many times I watched world champions in this fed have the easy road to the PPV. Get weeks off so they can be in the primest of shape. It's real eveident to ME, I'm on the death march.
Chubs: Death March???
Lively: You see, this sport is wrestling. I have fought off the worked finishes, and the planned outcomes...and went all out for the shoot. I finished MY matches, beat MY opponents. I didn't let some company dictate who was going over. Things here are sketchy, the rattings are dropping. I have been mowing through people. Management is in desperation mode. The have found their golden goose. I have a feeling that no matter how I thinks it's going to go, I may not be in control of this match. Not to mention I have to fight John Green again. I mean please Green is no threat, he is no worry to the JESUS. It's just more damage my body has to endure. Less time for MY muscles to recover. Rasstlemaina...the biggest show of the year, with the biggest match up the industry has seen in some time. Level One versus the JESUS. The buy rates are going to be huge, the tickets are sold out. My mind just keeps going to the fact that on a show like this, History has told the story that a situation of this calibur is going to crown a new champion. Well Level One is going to have one hell of a fight on his hands. I'm going to lay some stiff blows in, and not simply lay down for management.
As for Green, I mean what is there to say...if the APW wants a promo fro me on that...then maybe they can pull the tape from a few weeks back. Green probaly remembers what I said about him before, knows how I feel...and relaizes that my oppinion hasn't changed.
Just then the rider from earlier comes running over.
Rider: I got the cash big time...now loets see what you got!!!
Lively: Well if we are racing....it's going to be sitting on the handle bars, doing a wheelie down the strip....that is if you're not scared???
The rider stops cold for a moment. His worry written all over his face, as he then places his helmut on. Lively stradles the bike, turns the key and pushes the button igniting the engine of his GSXR. The man then tosses his helmut toward Chubs.
Chubs: Lively...what the fuck man...what about your helmut???
The mans voice is drowned out by the reving throttle of the motorcycle. Lively then pops a baby whellie as he then lunges for the line. Lively gets up to the line looking over at his opponent. Both men rev their engines, and then take off slow postiong thenselves on the handle bars. Simeltanesouly as the sit on the bars, the throttles rev, the front of the bikes lift, and they roar down the street.
