Post by warrenpeace on Feb 10, 2013 16:51:44 GMT -4
A prelude of a dream
The man was always a thinker. He considered himself to have a hefty intellect, almost insulting to others. This coupled with his borderline psychotic want and need to seek revenge on the father who wronged him, created a very dangerous war general.
To look through the man's notebooks could cause even the greatest of psychiatrists to become completely befuddled for a lack of diagnosis. Dr. Freud would have lost his mind and Dr. Loomis would be scared so badly he would be begging for Michael's kitchen knife. The greatest war generals in the history of the world would take notes and reaccess their attack plans. The Mongolians would have torn down the Great Wall if Warren were in charge.
fans of CSI and Law and Order would recognize the recon center of intelligence only Warren's dry erase boards, maps, strings of construction and files would make the real life CIA and FBI shutter. Seal Team Six could have striked 10 years earlier had Warren dedicated his life to the search for Bin laden and the destruction of professional wrestling.
As time came to pass however you could say that Warren had come down with a case of Stockholm syndrome. Despite his gorilla tactics and motives he was recognized as a rising star. Someone the company saw potential in, and that's when things went south.
Warren has not been the same competitor since and despite his return to the ring his status has disintegrated. Perhaps due to the fact that he has embraced the business and no longer aims to destroy it.
A thought that has been weighing heavily on the young mans mind. Is is time to give up on this crusade as well? Are the people he is trying to win over really helping his career? has this nice guy image he has adopted set him up to fail?
We travel from inside the confines of the mans skull and zoom back out and see his eyes. Unblinking and determined. A slight twitch from the left, perhaps a wink of knowledge that he was being watched.
We spin around and are behind him, looking over his head down at his desk. sketches of wrestling rings and arenas with access points and other general blue prints. "never compromise" is scribbled repeatedly on a yellow pad paper. A thick glossy stack of papers with the words Meltdown script is sitting on the edge of the desk. He knocks the stack over into a trash bin, some papers scatter about the floor.
Warren stands from his sitting position and stretches with a deep sigh. He nears the floor in a crouching position and removes the pencil of which he was chewing, from his clenching jaw and collapses onto the hardwood floor. Lying now face down he pushes himself up, and back down. A repetition of push ups that doesn't end until his mind is tired enough to sleep. Long after his body gives in. Finally his eyes shutter and close and sleep overcomes him.
Something in the night awakens him, uncertain of just what it may have been, he checks his phone. Nothing. He sits up and scans the room with eyes of intrigue. Nothing. Standing up he finds his pack of smokes, down to the last few in the nearly empty box of camels. Lighting one with haste he inhales. he stares out of the window at the night sky while inhaling the smoke into his lungs.
He is calm and serene and for once at ease with his position. Time, he thought was all he needed, and he would make the most of his time, when it was granted to him.
he walks back to his desk and puts all his his documents and blueprints away and shuffles to his bed content. And then things begin to get a little weird. smoke begins to fill the room, rising thick and dark. He begins to choke and realizes that he is no longer breathing in the warmth of nicotine. Some detectors are ringing a loud shriek and the inch or so opening underneath the door is reflecting a red and orange color of burning embers.
Before he could react to the fire the door shatters open and a silhouette of a man steps into the room. The flames follow the man and circle Warren, trapping him in his room. As the fire burns brighter, hotter, and the illumination reveals the silhouette to be Che Guevara and he is pointing at the desk with urgency. The flames part and allow a Warren to walk over to his desk and drawers open for him. He takes the blue prints and as soon as he has them in his grasp...
Warren awakens in his hotel room, slowly realizing that everything that had occurred has been a dream, and a goofy as hell weird one at that. Shaking the clouds out of his head, but not taking his dream lightly. This was a sign, and one he would not ignore. It is time to reclaim the glory that once seemed so destined to be his own.
preparation
The video production crew have spent extensive time with Warren Peace this weekend. a request he rarely has for them. usually he likes to address the world from his means of webcams, touts, and handhelds.
They were caught off guard, but hey it was there job and now after filming his promo the editing process was almost complete and ready for air.
producer: run the rough cut again and take notes for the filters. It says here to put some more grain at the fifteen second mark...This was really flashy, very unlike the guy. Anyway once you're done with that roll it as is. It may be finished.
we fade into an empty arena. A wrestling is in the center of it all and warren Peace is standing hands clenched together, beard trimmed, and hair pulled back. His Misfits shirt revealing much of his tattoos. The jeans and Converse All Stars are newly purchased. This is as formal as Warren gets. We zoom in tight and see Warren from the chest up.
warren
Show business. That's all this stuff really is. Just a show. The extravagance and high production values are meant to give the viewer a warm feeling inside. Those in charge do everything they can to make you all feel like as though you're watching a grand event.
And the competitors seem to take this to heart with gimmicks and persona's. Something as simple as two or more people beating each other up has been turned into intricate entrances, theme music, spotlights, flashy colors, pyrotechnics, smoke rigs. I am not sure why the business is this way. Maybe those ins charge think that the viewers have attentions spans to short to enjoy the simple brutality of a fight. Maybe it's what we needed to do as a business to compete with Multimedia, social networking and all that other electronic.
Lately I am not so sure any of it is for the viewer. I learned very early that every wrestler is a mark for themselves and that holds true in their presentations. Everyone seems to think they are the biggest, toughest, fastest, most brutal son of a bitches around and if you asked everyone who had the biggest heart in the business they would sure as hell all say themselves.
And when they look us in the eye and say they have the biggest heart they would be lying. Everyone around claims that they will never give up and keep fighting until their bodies will no longer allow them too. They would tell us this with a straight face and lie. These are lies, and perhaps these competitors have just lied to themselves so much that they believe it.
What they have created with these lies is an endless batch of generic clones who all seem to follow a script of wrestling cliches. This tough guy does this and that tough guy does that. Everyone here fancy's themselves to be 007 or something.
Never give up. Never surrender. Heart. If any of these drones had it, we wouldn't be boggled down with the infrastructures. We wouldn't be surrounded by a hundred wrestlers all saying and doing the same shit and "wowing" us with their showmanship and "cool" entrances.
Because heart is what you find underneath it all. This dusty ring sitting in an empty arena that is heart. The guy standing in front of you, who has always spoke his mind, who has never been about showmanship, and has never followed a "wrestling 101" manuscript of any kind has heart.
Because I am not afraid to tell you when I have doubts. I am not afraid to admit when I am facing an adversity that I may not overcome. In fact this whole company is an adversity that I may not overcome.
Odds are against me for sure. They always are when a free thinker goes against the grain of things. something none of my opponents, including the odds on favorite to win, the Guv'nor seem to do.
I tend to psychoanalyze things to an unhealthy extent and frankly since my return I have tried to get away from that and try to enjoy this business. I had a dream the other night, one that spoke to me in more ways than one and the message was clear.
When I took this company by storm I was a thinker, a war general, I had a plan for every situation and accounted for every possibility, because in combat one must ascertain all of the possibilities, pros and cons of your mission. And when I did that I was successful. This dream was a reminder that when I was less concerned with winning people over I was a winner. I came back with a smile on my face and willingness to become another one of these wrestling drones that fill up our rosters and indeed that all ended with this dream.
I have taken my unhealthy obsessions and preparation techniques and reestablished them into the process and now I am more dangerous than ever before. Now I will demonstrate the difference between myself and my opponents to demonstrate how mathematically assured my victory is.
Warren steps out of the ring and walks to the backstage area. Suddenly he is rushed by stuntmen in costume with security guard shirts on
Warren
If I were another drone like former WCW, ROH, and AAA wrestler "Simply" Trevor Hyatt I would knock these guys out to prove how dangerous I am. But I am not going to do that, because I am not a walking cliche.
Warren Shakes there hands, and continues walking. when a man dressed in a track suit comes over to him with a whistle and clipboard.
Warren
I could even try and show you all just show talented I am by having the man who trained me to be be a wrestler talk me up on camera because nothing quite shows how much I mean business than talking to some dinosaur who has nothing to do with our company the APW talk about how great I am.
I will put this as simply as I can for you Trevor. You're a has been who supposedly did great things in the past, for those other promotions I have never even heard of. You can't even win the losing battle to your hairline let alone win this fatal four way match. I think you should seriously reevaluate yourself, maybe hold a press conference with your buddy Barry and admit to us that you're giving it up for good to become a security guard in New Jersey because apparently your the toughest sob that ever came out of Trenton. I am sorry to break your heart there pal, but you don't impress me in the least.
Warren walks around the corner and is no longer in the arena, but walking through the streets of London England. He passes by a few parked cars and walks into an alley. Knocks on a door twice and is allowed entrances. Suddenly he is standing in an underground fighting rink.
Warren
Speaking of touch son of a bitches, we have been graced with the presence of an Englishman very unlike the last. he is less quintessentially British and more along the lines of every Guy richie movie ever made. No, not Jason Statham, and you'd be wrong if you guessed Vinnie Jones too, but don't feel too bad, he's pretty much a clone of those guys.
No I am talking about the Guv'nor the wise cracking, tough talking rudeboy from the streets. The only of my opponents this week that I have heard from and my, my was he talking shit. I understood about half his talk about geezers and rudeboys, but I was able to pick up the part about me being a bleeding idealist and freethinker. The heart of the statement was true, but everything that followed it was utter trash. Or as they say here, rubbish.
The rudeboys are fighting each other behind him, others watching and betting money
Warren
I am an idealist, and I want more for everyone. I want a revolution and still intend to lead it. We just have different enemies now. People like you. A street trash scum bag mafia bitch boy like yourself who instead of using your circumstances to change the world you continue feeding into the cycle. And who knows maybe you will make your millions here in the United States and Cher buy that little tramp of yours nice things, but you are always going to be a worthless thug that no one gives a shit about.
I have done my research, I watched green Street Hooligans, Lock stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Snatch, layer Cake and all the other uber gritty British films about your kind, and it never really ends to well. So enjoy the trip while it lasts, sooner or later that craps going to catch up with you and you will beg me and the people of revolution for help and we will laugh at your expense as your dragged back into the gutters of this foggy and rainy shit hole of a country forced back into alley fights to afford a biscuit or crumpet to have with your tea.
Warren leaves the fights and is once again in the empty ring
Warren
I have seen Donald Deruty up close and it's not clear that the guy wants to be here for the right reasons. He participated in Survive and Conquer and speaks only praises, but he seemed far more interested in getting his name out there to the rival promotions. And when you see the guy up close he is the spitting image of everything I have complained about.
The young blue chipper fighting until his body quits because it's not in him to seem weak. the flashy entrance and never say die attitude....it's just so played out. perhaps you should try to be more like your relatives who died overseas, because at least they had the heart that you try to wear on your sleeves.
fact is that all four of us have something to fight for. Money, redemption, honor, and everyone is vying for a spot on the main roster. Unlike my opponents I am standing here before you all, not flashy lights, music and no wrestling 101 bullshit.
The odds are against me. there's a chance that I go out there and get pummeled and continue to be an afterthought of a better time and remain enhancement talent on Meltdown and unlike my opponents I am willing to stand here and admit it.
But like the Guv'nor, Deruty, and Trevor I sure as hell plan to fight for the win. I sure as hell intend to send them home in shame covered in their own blood leaving everyone watching with the knowledge that Warren Peace is a dangerous man willing to go to any and every extreme to put his foes down for good.
I have been saying for weeks that I want a shot at gold this match puts me one step closer because despite a draft, an announcement and a title bout, the one thing people will remember about the show is me standing above my enemies in victory leading the revolution and fulfilling the dream.
The man was always a thinker. He considered himself to have a hefty intellect, almost insulting to others. This coupled with his borderline psychotic want and need to seek revenge on the father who wronged him, created a very dangerous war general.
To look through the man's notebooks could cause even the greatest of psychiatrists to become completely befuddled for a lack of diagnosis. Dr. Freud would have lost his mind and Dr. Loomis would be scared so badly he would be begging for Michael's kitchen knife. The greatest war generals in the history of the world would take notes and reaccess their attack plans. The Mongolians would have torn down the Great Wall if Warren were in charge.
fans of CSI and Law and Order would recognize the recon center of intelligence only Warren's dry erase boards, maps, strings of construction and files would make the real life CIA and FBI shutter. Seal Team Six could have striked 10 years earlier had Warren dedicated his life to the search for Bin laden and the destruction of professional wrestling.
As time came to pass however you could say that Warren had come down with a case of Stockholm syndrome. Despite his gorilla tactics and motives he was recognized as a rising star. Someone the company saw potential in, and that's when things went south.
Warren has not been the same competitor since and despite his return to the ring his status has disintegrated. Perhaps due to the fact that he has embraced the business and no longer aims to destroy it.
A thought that has been weighing heavily on the young mans mind. Is is time to give up on this crusade as well? Are the people he is trying to win over really helping his career? has this nice guy image he has adopted set him up to fail?
We travel from inside the confines of the mans skull and zoom back out and see his eyes. Unblinking and determined. A slight twitch from the left, perhaps a wink of knowledge that he was being watched.
We spin around and are behind him, looking over his head down at his desk. sketches of wrestling rings and arenas with access points and other general blue prints. "never compromise" is scribbled repeatedly on a yellow pad paper. A thick glossy stack of papers with the words Meltdown script is sitting on the edge of the desk. He knocks the stack over into a trash bin, some papers scatter about the floor.
Warren stands from his sitting position and stretches with a deep sigh. He nears the floor in a crouching position and removes the pencil of which he was chewing, from his clenching jaw and collapses onto the hardwood floor. Lying now face down he pushes himself up, and back down. A repetition of push ups that doesn't end until his mind is tired enough to sleep. Long after his body gives in. Finally his eyes shutter and close and sleep overcomes him.
Something in the night awakens him, uncertain of just what it may have been, he checks his phone. Nothing. He sits up and scans the room with eyes of intrigue. Nothing. Standing up he finds his pack of smokes, down to the last few in the nearly empty box of camels. Lighting one with haste he inhales. he stares out of the window at the night sky while inhaling the smoke into his lungs.
He is calm and serene and for once at ease with his position. Time, he thought was all he needed, and he would make the most of his time, when it was granted to him.
he walks back to his desk and puts all his his documents and blueprints away and shuffles to his bed content. And then things begin to get a little weird. smoke begins to fill the room, rising thick and dark. He begins to choke and realizes that he is no longer breathing in the warmth of nicotine. Some detectors are ringing a loud shriek and the inch or so opening underneath the door is reflecting a red and orange color of burning embers.
Before he could react to the fire the door shatters open and a silhouette of a man steps into the room. The flames follow the man and circle Warren, trapping him in his room. As the fire burns brighter, hotter, and the illumination reveals the silhouette to be Che Guevara and he is pointing at the desk with urgency. The flames part and allow a Warren to walk over to his desk and drawers open for him. He takes the blue prints and as soon as he has them in his grasp...
Warren awakens in his hotel room, slowly realizing that everything that had occurred has been a dream, and a goofy as hell weird one at that. Shaking the clouds out of his head, but not taking his dream lightly. This was a sign, and one he would not ignore. It is time to reclaim the glory that once seemed so destined to be his own.
preparation
The video production crew have spent extensive time with Warren Peace this weekend. a request he rarely has for them. usually he likes to address the world from his means of webcams, touts, and handhelds.
They were caught off guard, but hey it was there job and now after filming his promo the editing process was almost complete and ready for air.
producer: run the rough cut again and take notes for the filters. It says here to put some more grain at the fifteen second mark...This was really flashy, very unlike the guy. Anyway once you're done with that roll it as is. It may be finished.
we fade into an empty arena. A wrestling is in the center of it all and warren Peace is standing hands clenched together, beard trimmed, and hair pulled back. His Misfits shirt revealing much of his tattoos. The jeans and Converse All Stars are newly purchased. This is as formal as Warren gets. We zoom in tight and see Warren from the chest up.
warren
Show business. That's all this stuff really is. Just a show. The extravagance and high production values are meant to give the viewer a warm feeling inside. Those in charge do everything they can to make you all feel like as though you're watching a grand event.
And the competitors seem to take this to heart with gimmicks and persona's. Something as simple as two or more people beating each other up has been turned into intricate entrances, theme music, spotlights, flashy colors, pyrotechnics, smoke rigs. I am not sure why the business is this way. Maybe those ins charge think that the viewers have attentions spans to short to enjoy the simple brutality of a fight. Maybe it's what we needed to do as a business to compete with Multimedia, social networking and all that other electronic.
Lately I am not so sure any of it is for the viewer. I learned very early that every wrestler is a mark for themselves and that holds true in their presentations. Everyone seems to think they are the biggest, toughest, fastest, most brutal son of a bitches around and if you asked everyone who had the biggest heart in the business they would sure as hell all say themselves.
And when they look us in the eye and say they have the biggest heart they would be lying. Everyone around claims that they will never give up and keep fighting until their bodies will no longer allow them too. They would tell us this with a straight face and lie. These are lies, and perhaps these competitors have just lied to themselves so much that they believe it.
What they have created with these lies is an endless batch of generic clones who all seem to follow a script of wrestling cliches. This tough guy does this and that tough guy does that. Everyone here fancy's themselves to be 007 or something.
Never give up. Never surrender. Heart. If any of these drones had it, we wouldn't be boggled down with the infrastructures. We wouldn't be surrounded by a hundred wrestlers all saying and doing the same shit and "wowing" us with their showmanship and "cool" entrances.
Because heart is what you find underneath it all. This dusty ring sitting in an empty arena that is heart. The guy standing in front of you, who has always spoke his mind, who has never been about showmanship, and has never followed a "wrestling 101" manuscript of any kind has heart.
Because I am not afraid to tell you when I have doubts. I am not afraid to admit when I am facing an adversity that I may not overcome. In fact this whole company is an adversity that I may not overcome.
Odds are against me for sure. They always are when a free thinker goes against the grain of things. something none of my opponents, including the odds on favorite to win, the Guv'nor seem to do.
I tend to psychoanalyze things to an unhealthy extent and frankly since my return I have tried to get away from that and try to enjoy this business. I had a dream the other night, one that spoke to me in more ways than one and the message was clear.
When I took this company by storm I was a thinker, a war general, I had a plan for every situation and accounted for every possibility, because in combat one must ascertain all of the possibilities, pros and cons of your mission. And when I did that I was successful. This dream was a reminder that when I was less concerned with winning people over I was a winner. I came back with a smile on my face and willingness to become another one of these wrestling drones that fill up our rosters and indeed that all ended with this dream.
I have taken my unhealthy obsessions and preparation techniques and reestablished them into the process and now I am more dangerous than ever before. Now I will demonstrate the difference between myself and my opponents to demonstrate how mathematically assured my victory is.
Warren steps out of the ring and walks to the backstage area. Suddenly he is rushed by stuntmen in costume with security guard shirts on
Warren
If I were another drone like former WCW, ROH, and AAA wrestler "Simply" Trevor Hyatt I would knock these guys out to prove how dangerous I am. But I am not going to do that, because I am not a walking cliche.
Warren Shakes there hands, and continues walking. when a man dressed in a track suit comes over to him with a whistle and clipboard.
Warren
I could even try and show you all just show talented I am by having the man who trained me to be be a wrestler talk me up on camera because nothing quite shows how much I mean business than talking to some dinosaur who has nothing to do with our company the APW talk about how great I am.
I will put this as simply as I can for you Trevor. You're a has been who supposedly did great things in the past, for those other promotions I have never even heard of. You can't even win the losing battle to your hairline let alone win this fatal four way match. I think you should seriously reevaluate yourself, maybe hold a press conference with your buddy Barry and admit to us that you're giving it up for good to become a security guard in New Jersey because apparently your the toughest sob that ever came out of Trenton. I am sorry to break your heart there pal, but you don't impress me in the least.
Warren walks around the corner and is no longer in the arena, but walking through the streets of London England. He passes by a few parked cars and walks into an alley. Knocks on a door twice and is allowed entrances. Suddenly he is standing in an underground fighting rink.
Warren
Speaking of touch son of a bitches, we have been graced with the presence of an Englishman very unlike the last. he is less quintessentially British and more along the lines of every Guy richie movie ever made. No, not Jason Statham, and you'd be wrong if you guessed Vinnie Jones too, but don't feel too bad, he's pretty much a clone of those guys.
No I am talking about the Guv'nor the wise cracking, tough talking rudeboy from the streets. The only of my opponents this week that I have heard from and my, my was he talking shit. I understood about half his talk about geezers and rudeboys, but I was able to pick up the part about me being a bleeding idealist and freethinker. The heart of the statement was true, but everything that followed it was utter trash. Or as they say here, rubbish.
The rudeboys are fighting each other behind him, others watching and betting money
Warren
I am an idealist, and I want more for everyone. I want a revolution and still intend to lead it. We just have different enemies now. People like you. A street trash scum bag mafia bitch boy like yourself who instead of using your circumstances to change the world you continue feeding into the cycle. And who knows maybe you will make your millions here in the United States and Cher buy that little tramp of yours nice things, but you are always going to be a worthless thug that no one gives a shit about.
I have done my research, I watched green Street Hooligans, Lock stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Snatch, layer Cake and all the other uber gritty British films about your kind, and it never really ends to well. So enjoy the trip while it lasts, sooner or later that craps going to catch up with you and you will beg me and the people of revolution for help and we will laugh at your expense as your dragged back into the gutters of this foggy and rainy shit hole of a country forced back into alley fights to afford a biscuit or crumpet to have with your tea.
Warren leaves the fights and is once again in the empty ring
Warren
I have seen Donald Deruty up close and it's not clear that the guy wants to be here for the right reasons. He participated in Survive and Conquer and speaks only praises, but he seemed far more interested in getting his name out there to the rival promotions. And when you see the guy up close he is the spitting image of everything I have complained about.
The young blue chipper fighting until his body quits because it's not in him to seem weak. the flashy entrance and never say die attitude....it's just so played out. perhaps you should try to be more like your relatives who died overseas, because at least they had the heart that you try to wear on your sleeves.
fact is that all four of us have something to fight for. Money, redemption, honor, and everyone is vying for a spot on the main roster. Unlike my opponents I am standing here before you all, not flashy lights, music and no wrestling 101 bullshit.
The odds are against me. there's a chance that I go out there and get pummeled and continue to be an afterthought of a better time and remain enhancement talent on Meltdown and unlike my opponents I am willing to stand here and admit it.
But like the Guv'nor, Deruty, and Trevor I sure as hell plan to fight for the win. I sure as hell intend to send them home in shame covered in their own blood leaving everyone watching with the knowledge that Warren Peace is a dangerous man willing to go to any and every extreme to put his foes down for good.
I have been saying for weeks that I want a shot at gold this match puts me one step closer because despite a draft, an announcement and a title bout, the one thing people will remember about the show is me standing above my enemies in victory leading the revolution and fulfilling the dream.
