Post by warrenpeace on Mar 3, 2013 14:50:55 GMT -4
last Monday, following Meltdown
Everything looked different to Warren. The walls of the corridor, the tiles on the floor, the light bulbs shine a pale gray compared to the light he remembered seeing before he went out for his match. perhaps his vernal excitement had made things seem more crisp and clear. Even after being assaulted before the match by Alec his surroundings didn't seem so bleak.
He is sitting on the hard wood bench placed in front of his locker. He leans back on the cold steel of the locker ignoring the soaking wet strains of hair that obstruct his vision. He isn't pouting, or even angry. But his disappointment shows through in his slouched posture.
Warren takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh. He stands up and paces back and forth. he is unable to shake the bleak feeling of despair from the pit of his stomach. The more he tries, the worse it feels.
He rubs his face. Swore. Swollen. Bruised. The desired effects of the weapon used to knock him unconscious just a little while ago. Warren cracks a half smile that eventually travels to his ear and his brows fur with understanding.
In just a few minutes he would finish cleaning himself up and hit the road to the next town. He has a title match coming up and a revolution to complete. No more time could be wasted.
The gathering
It is 34 digress outside and Warren is jogging through the rigid winter weather. In something reminiscent of Rocky Warren is wearing old sweats and a warm beanie and wool gloves. he is still trying to shake off the feeling in his stomach, while taking in the local scenery.
His run takes him to the door of a diner, one with a feeling of Americana. A large chrome trailer looking box car with windows lining every wall. The place is crowded be he sees an open table. Crossing the street without looking at traffic he darts over. leaving the cold chill and his foggy breath outside.
Warren sits down and taps at the table. He hasn't been able to sit still the entire week. It has been one sleepless night after another, with extended workouts thrown in. Not for any further preparation for the North American title match, but out of sheer agitation.
A waitress comes over, a pretty little thing that really knows how to work her apron and blue uniform and places a menu before him and asks him with a french accent...
Waitress: Can I get you something to drink while you browse the menu?
Warren Sure, how's the water here in Canada? I have heard everything is better in Canada.
Waitress: I could tell you are American. I have never been to America to know a difference.
Warren Well if your water is anything like the women here, I would guess that it's exceptionally better.
She laughs and brushes his shoulder. As she does this Warren notices the cook, a younger man peeking out at them with interest.
Waitress: OK, then I will be right back with your water.
The waitress is gone for a few minutes and Warren begins glancing for her unable to distinguish where she has gone to. While waiting he opens up the the menu, though he is not hungry and has been unable to eat all week.
The table shakes from a small disturbance. He assumes it is the waitress returning with his water. Warren looks up with his best smile and attempt to win her over and immediately changes complexion when he sees the cook bearing down at him. A jeer in the eye lending the visual appearance of an agitated man. Warren assumes he has been hitting on the mans girlfriend.
Warren Something I can do for you?
Cook: I saw what you did.
Warren I'm just being friendly guy no disrespect intended.
Cook: There's no need to apologize.
The cook sits down across from Warren, arms stretched to him over the center of the table.
Cook: You changed my life. Others too. Your words have been spreading like a wildfire. I can't even believe I am talking to you right now. We've been gathering, and discussing. Assembling our arms. We are ready to strike for you. Revolution brother the time is now.
Warren is completely taken aback and shocked, but hides it well. Not wanting to offend him he speaks quickly.
Warren: Thank you.
And then the ring of a bell. The flash of a light bulb. The twinkle in the eye. Warren gets an idea, awful idea Warren got a wonderful awful idea.
Warren I see it everywhere I go. The enemy is out to get us. Big brother wants to keep us down. Even in an establishment as quaint as this one. They are everywhere. What's your name?
Cook: David.
Warren David, that's a good name. It suits you. They want to take it from you. They want to make you a number. They want you be a simple line in a large dull bar code.
David: I won't let them.
Warren That's the spirit David, but it isn't enough. In fact with that kind of attitude it makes you a prime target. You must strike first.
David: How, where, when? Tell me.
We pan back as Warren leans in close to David to whisper. The waitress brings his glass of water and now, he doesn't even notice the beauty standing next to him. She shuffles away to some other customers. Warren continues to preach and with a large smile on his face. That dreadful feeling he has had all week long. Gone. replaced by the wonderful feeling of hope.
The Promo
There is American flag, colored differently with red, black and grays. It is large, face down and behind a podium. The stage on which these items sit is structured high above the audience.
The crowd is packed, and clamoring. The chatter comes to an immediate stop as footsteps of Warren Peace making his way on stage grabs their attention.
They cheer, he smiles and waves. Asking them to calm down.
Warren: There is so much going on in this company right now that it can be easy to get lost in the shuffle. Hell, on meltdown alone we have firings, rehiring's, new masked wrestlers revealing themselves to be old faces, drafts, debuts, tag tournaments, and a North American champion who seems to be on the wrong side of everyone without an once of authority.
Sure when you're the champion there's always going to be bulls eye places squarely on your chest, but Young Mannie has indeed made some enemies. We've all seen the Amy Zing saga, and now she's back and ready for vengeance, and you know what I am really pulling for her. The pay off of when she finally does get to ring his neck will be electrifying, but it won't be for the North American Championship.
Former and lost icon Nathanial Havok has taken his identity back and has a war of his own he is waging. And hey, it's not my place to say that he comes across as a jaded old timer with chip on his shoulder, but it is my place to say that for the time being your war will not involve the North American championship title. Because I was waging a war for that belt before you decided to put the Halloween costume away and put your face back on your brand.
Please don't misunderstand me I admire Havoks dedication. For almost a year he had everyone fooled, but with all of his planning things still didn't pan out just how he hoped. Because you hid, and played dead and that's not what a real warrior does. Your little war will crumble and pale in comparison to the REVOLUTION, because when I lead these people I lead these people. No mask, no convoluted fake back story.
The people deserve a better class of hero. The people deserve a better class of role model and the people deserve a better class of champion. I know the Amy Zings and the Nathanial Havok's believe that they represent all of those things, but they are just as bad as the people they are waging war with.
They waited until something bad happened to them before they decided to rise up and actually do something about the corruption. They couldn't have cared less about it until it fell apart on their end and still couldn't care less about you the people.
On the other hand, since day one I have been pointing out the corruption, and flaws and shades of gray. I have always been against the machine that this institution has created and I certainly didn't sit around and wait for it gobble me up before I did something about.
Warren begins pacing, making rounds about the stage.
WarrenI have always asked to call for arms. I have always defended and protected the people. I may not have always been the revolutionist the people wanted, but I have always been the one you needed.
I will lead the new generation into the APW. I will lead the people to a better product. As champion I can guarantee the children have a proper idol. Proper wrestling without all of the politics and ridiculous antics. I will lead meltdown to levels that those phonies on the other shows can't even dream of.
But there are detractors as there always are. There are still jealous people green with envy that I have this title shot. Slinging accusations that I didn't earn it, that it was handed to me. People like my sadly misinformed opponent last week Robina Hood.
I earned this shot fairly and without any backstage favors. I beat "Simply" Trevor Hyatt to earn this shot and the champion himself has seen what I can do up close and personal and he is scared.
Terrified because he knows his time is up and i am the one who will take that championship from him. So like every governing power afraid of the people they tried to assassinate me last week. They tried to take me out. Probably in some secret backdoor deal with Robina Hood to ensure her a victory.
Warren rubs his face in the spot where was struck by the weapon. He grins and tilts his head.
Everyone saw it play out, They saw your stooge attack me from behind. The people saw the heinous and despicable, cowardly act that left me unconscious on the cold floor.
Young Mannie tried to send us a message, and believe me, the message was received. You're scared, and hiding behind those colorful characters that surround you because you know that soon enough I will everyone of you out like a car bomb in the middle east.
But, despite your best efforts it didn't prevent me from competing last week, because you left me breathing. And the only way to stop this wave of change is to kill me dead and non of you have the gull to do that.
So yes, I fought my way back to conscious realm and I went out to the squared circle, shocking you and your stooges. I stormed down to the ring like a Sherman tank and I knocked Robina Hood around that arena like a spartan.
But, you cheating swine had some more tricks up your sleeves, and I knew from the start that there would be shenanigans, but I allowed my anger to get the best of me and lost sight of the mission. Just long enough to allow the veil to be pulled over my eyes and have a pair of brass knuckles come crashing into my face and I dropped worse than an A bomb in Japan.
You all orchestrated a ruse and you got one up on me. Robina Hood stole a victory because she isn't talented enough earn one. It doesn't surprise me that you've had such bad luck in the ring, because you have to be the most misinformed, unorganized, and flat out untalented woman to ever step between the ropes.
For all the nonsense you hurdled at me and false accusations that I had somehow not earned the contendership to the North American championship, you sure as hell had no problem stealing a win to try and boost your career.
But hey, there was a time I would have done the same thing. There was a time that Warren Peace attacked his foes with anything, and everything, and there was a time Warren Peace stole victories. But, I learned that their is no honor amongst thieves, and last week you exposed yourself as a thief.
And where has it gotten you? Back to one, because you are squaring off against an old rival in the opening match of the night, when people are done with your piss break performance They will watch me in the main event.
This weeks card, the preview on out official website describes our match as "The Main Attraction" defending against 2011's Rising Star, Warren Peace!
The last two years have lead to this, sure. But tomorrow night is the culmination of my entire life. The journey I made from some punk kid from the street without a father, a mother who worked herself nearly to death. My decision to become a wrestler to kill the business from within and my realization that I wasn't sent here to kill the APW I was sent her to save the APW. From the likes of Young Mannie, and Robina Hood and Sienna and Duvall.
Everyone is demanding change, but I am the only one actually making it happen, in real time right in front of your eyes I have lead the revolution. And it has grown and snowballed and there is nothing that can stop it. No one who can stop me.
It's been said that my loss last week that could stop my momentum dead in it's tracks and give Young Mannie the upper hand in our match. Meanwhile Mannie recently defeated Phil Atken. Sure you have momentum on your side.
But I have a purpose, and an ideal, and a following of people who are rallying. I have an army. And since you have attacked me from behind, and orchestrated the use of foreign objects to harm me.
We will not hesitate to make gorilla warfare with you. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.
Warren kicks over the the podium and begins kicking it. It breaks and he throws the broken pieces into the crowd. They are roaring and excited.
Warren: These fakes, and phonies lie to your faces and they boast about their abilities and have created a false sense of greatness. They talk down to like you are an irritating side effect. Young Mannie believes that he is above you.
Warren leaps down off of the high stage and is standing in the crowd spectators.
Warren: But I am one of you. We ride together we fight together, we will change the world together and we will together as one.
And after we take our championship from that liar Young Mannie will continue to change this business for the better. We will go onto Rasslemania and wage war with their ladders and stipulations against whomever they deem brave enough to try and roadblock our convoy.
And just like tomorrow night we will prevail.
The crowd lifts Warren up and begin carrying him. Body surfing him like a martyr.
Warren: Young Mannie's time as North American champion will come to an end. I will put an end to his tyranny and I will transcend. Next weeks card won't read 2011's rising star of the year, it will read Meltdowns very own, North American Champion.
The crowd roars and carries Warren Peace beyond. We fade to black.
Everything looked different to Warren. The walls of the corridor, the tiles on the floor, the light bulbs shine a pale gray compared to the light he remembered seeing before he went out for his match. perhaps his vernal excitement had made things seem more crisp and clear. Even after being assaulted before the match by Alec his surroundings didn't seem so bleak.
He is sitting on the hard wood bench placed in front of his locker. He leans back on the cold steel of the locker ignoring the soaking wet strains of hair that obstruct his vision. He isn't pouting, or even angry. But his disappointment shows through in his slouched posture.
Warren takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh. He stands up and paces back and forth. he is unable to shake the bleak feeling of despair from the pit of his stomach. The more he tries, the worse it feels.
He rubs his face. Swore. Swollen. Bruised. The desired effects of the weapon used to knock him unconscious just a little while ago. Warren cracks a half smile that eventually travels to his ear and his brows fur with understanding.
In just a few minutes he would finish cleaning himself up and hit the road to the next town. He has a title match coming up and a revolution to complete. No more time could be wasted.
The gathering
It is 34 digress outside and Warren is jogging through the rigid winter weather. In something reminiscent of Rocky Warren is wearing old sweats and a warm beanie and wool gloves. he is still trying to shake off the feeling in his stomach, while taking in the local scenery.
His run takes him to the door of a diner, one with a feeling of Americana. A large chrome trailer looking box car with windows lining every wall. The place is crowded be he sees an open table. Crossing the street without looking at traffic he darts over. leaving the cold chill and his foggy breath outside.
Warren sits down and taps at the table. He hasn't been able to sit still the entire week. It has been one sleepless night after another, with extended workouts thrown in. Not for any further preparation for the North American title match, but out of sheer agitation.
A waitress comes over, a pretty little thing that really knows how to work her apron and blue uniform and places a menu before him and asks him with a french accent...
Waitress: Can I get you something to drink while you browse the menu?
Warren Sure, how's the water here in Canada? I have heard everything is better in Canada.
Waitress: I could tell you are American. I have never been to America to know a difference.
Warren Well if your water is anything like the women here, I would guess that it's exceptionally better.
She laughs and brushes his shoulder. As she does this Warren notices the cook, a younger man peeking out at them with interest.
Waitress: OK, then I will be right back with your water.
The waitress is gone for a few minutes and Warren begins glancing for her unable to distinguish where she has gone to. While waiting he opens up the the menu, though he is not hungry and has been unable to eat all week.
The table shakes from a small disturbance. He assumes it is the waitress returning with his water. Warren looks up with his best smile and attempt to win her over and immediately changes complexion when he sees the cook bearing down at him. A jeer in the eye lending the visual appearance of an agitated man. Warren assumes he has been hitting on the mans girlfriend.
Warren Something I can do for you?
Cook: I saw what you did.
Warren I'm just being friendly guy no disrespect intended.
Cook: There's no need to apologize.
The cook sits down across from Warren, arms stretched to him over the center of the table.
Cook: You changed my life. Others too. Your words have been spreading like a wildfire. I can't even believe I am talking to you right now. We've been gathering, and discussing. Assembling our arms. We are ready to strike for you. Revolution brother the time is now.
Warren is completely taken aback and shocked, but hides it well. Not wanting to offend him he speaks quickly.
Warren: Thank you.
And then the ring of a bell. The flash of a light bulb. The twinkle in the eye. Warren gets an idea, awful idea Warren got a wonderful awful idea.
Warren I see it everywhere I go. The enemy is out to get us. Big brother wants to keep us down. Even in an establishment as quaint as this one. They are everywhere. What's your name?
Cook: David.
Warren David, that's a good name. It suits you. They want to take it from you. They want to make you a number. They want you be a simple line in a large dull bar code.
David: I won't let them.
Warren That's the spirit David, but it isn't enough. In fact with that kind of attitude it makes you a prime target. You must strike first.
David: How, where, when? Tell me.
We pan back as Warren leans in close to David to whisper. The waitress brings his glass of water and now, he doesn't even notice the beauty standing next to him. She shuffles away to some other customers. Warren continues to preach and with a large smile on his face. That dreadful feeling he has had all week long. Gone. replaced by the wonderful feeling of hope.
The Promo
There is American flag, colored differently with red, black and grays. It is large, face down and behind a podium. The stage on which these items sit is structured high above the audience.
The crowd is packed, and clamoring. The chatter comes to an immediate stop as footsteps of Warren Peace making his way on stage grabs their attention.
They cheer, he smiles and waves. Asking them to calm down.
Warren: There is so much going on in this company right now that it can be easy to get lost in the shuffle. Hell, on meltdown alone we have firings, rehiring's, new masked wrestlers revealing themselves to be old faces, drafts, debuts, tag tournaments, and a North American champion who seems to be on the wrong side of everyone without an once of authority.
Sure when you're the champion there's always going to be bulls eye places squarely on your chest, but Young Mannie has indeed made some enemies. We've all seen the Amy Zing saga, and now she's back and ready for vengeance, and you know what I am really pulling for her. The pay off of when she finally does get to ring his neck will be electrifying, but it won't be for the North American Championship.
Former and lost icon Nathanial Havok has taken his identity back and has a war of his own he is waging. And hey, it's not my place to say that he comes across as a jaded old timer with chip on his shoulder, but it is my place to say that for the time being your war will not involve the North American championship title. Because I was waging a war for that belt before you decided to put the Halloween costume away and put your face back on your brand.
Please don't misunderstand me I admire Havoks dedication. For almost a year he had everyone fooled, but with all of his planning things still didn't pan out just how he hoped. Because you hid, and played dead and that's not what a real warrior does. Your little war will crumble and pale in comparison to the REVOLUTION, because when I lead these people I lead these people. No mask, no convoluted fake back story.
The people deserve a better class of hero. The people deserve a better class of role model and the people deserve a better class of champion. I know the Amy Zings and the Nathanial Havok's believe that they represent all of those things, but they are just as bad as the people they are waging war with.
They waited until something bad happened to them before they decided to rise up and actually do something about the corruption. They couldn't have cared less about it until it fell apart on their end and still couldn't care less about you the people.
On the other hand, since day one I have been pointing out the corruption, and flaws and shades of gray. I have always been against the machine that this institution has created and I certainly didn't sit around and wait for it gobble me up before I did something about.
Warren begins pacing, making rounds about the stage.
WarrenI have always asked to call for arms. I have always defended and protected the people. I may not have always been the revolutionist the people wanted, but I have always been the one you needed.
I will lead the new generation into the APW. I will lead the people to a better product. As champion I can guarantee the children have a proper idol. Proper wrestling without all of the politics and ridiculous antics. I will lead meltdown to levels that those phonies on the other shows can't even dream of.
But there are detractors as there always are. There are still jealous people green with envy that I have this title shot. Slinging accusations that I didn't earn it, that it was handed to me. People like my sadly misinformed opponent last week Robina Hood.
I earned this shot fairly and without any backstage favors. I beat "Simply" Trevor Hyatt to earn this shot and the champion himself has seen what I can do up close and personal and he is scared.
Terrified because he knows his time is up and i am the one who will take that championship from him. So like every governing power afraid of the people they tried to assassinate me last week. They tried to take me out. Probably in some secret backdoor deal with Robina Hood to ensure her a victory.
Warren rubs his face in the spot where was struck by the weapon. He grins and tilts his head.
Everyone saw it play out, They saw your stooge attack me from behind. The people saw the heinous and despicable, cowardly act that left me unconscious on the cold floor.
Young Mannie tried to send us a message, and believe me, the message was received. You're scared, and hiding behind those colorful characters that surround you because you know that soon enough I will everyone of you out like a car bomb in the middle east.
But, despite your best efforts it didn't prevent me from competing last week, because you left me breathing. And the only way to stop this wave of change is to kill me dead and non of you have the gull to do that.
So yes, I fought my way back to conscious realm and I went out to the squared circle, shocking you and your stooges. I stormed down to the ring like a Sherman tank and I knocked Robina Hood around that arena like a spartan.
But, you cheating swine had some more tricks up your sleeves, and I knew from the start that there would be shenanigans, but I allowed my anger to get the best of me and lost sight of the mission. Just long enough to allow the veil to be pulled over my eyes and have a pair of brass knuckles come crashing into my face and I dropped worse than an A bomb in Japan.
You all orchestrated a ruse and you got one up on me. Robina Hood stole a victory because she isn't talented enough earn one. It doesn't surprise me that you've had such bad luck in the ring, because you have to be the most misinformed, unorganized, and flat out untalented woman to ever step between the ropes.
For all the nonsense you hurdled at me and false accusations that I had somehow not earned the contendership to the North American championship, you sure as hell had no problem stealing a win to try and boost your career.
But hey, there was a time I would have done the same thing. There was a time that Warren Peace attacked his foes with anything, and everything, and there was a time Warren Peace stole victories. But, I learned that their is no honor amongst thieves, and last week you exposed yourself as a thief.
And where has it gotten you? Back to one, because you are squaring off against an old rival in the opening match of the night, when people are done with your piss break performance They will watch me in the main event.
This weeks card, the preview on out official website describes our match as "The Main Attraction" defending against 2011's Rising Star, Warren Peace!
The last two years have lead to this, sure. But tomorrow night is the culmination of my entire life. The journey I made from some punk kid from the street without a father, a mother who worked herself nearly to death. My decision to become a wrestler to kill the business from within and my realization that I wasn't sent here to kill the APW I was sent her to save the APW. From the likes of Young Mannie, and Robina Hood and Sienna and Duvall.
Everyone is demanding change, but I am the only one actually making it happen, in real time right in front of your eyes I have lead the revolution. And it has grown and snowballed and there is nothing that can stop it. No one who can stop me.
It's been said that my loss last week that could stop my momentum dead in it's tracks and give Young Mannie the upper hand in our match. Meanwhile Mannie recently defeated Phil Atken. Sure you have momentum on your side.
But I have a purpose, and an ideal, and a following of people who are rallying. I have an army. And since you have attacked me from behind, and orchestrated the use of foreign objects to harm me.
We will not hesitate to make gorilla warfare with you. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.
Warren kicks over the the podium and begins kicking it. It breaks and he throws the broken pieces into the crowd. They are roaring and excited.
Warren: These fakes, and phonies lie to your faces and they boast about their abilities and have created a false sense of greatness. They talk down to like you are an irritating side effect. Young Mannie believes that he is above you.
Warren leaps down off of the high stage and is standing in the crowd spectators.
Warren: But I am one of you. We ride together we fight together, we will change the world together and we will together as one.
And after we take our championship from that liar Young Mannie will continue to change this business for the better. We will go onto Rasslemania and wage war with their ladders and stipulations against whomever they deem brave enough to try and roadblock our convoy.
And just like tomorrow night we will prevail.
The crowd lifts Warren up and begin carrying him. Body surfing him like a martyr.
Warren: Young Mannie's time as North American champion will come to an end. I will put an end to his tyranny and I will transcend. Next weeks card won't read 2011's rising star of the year, it will read Meltdowns very own, North American Champion.
The crowd roars and carries Warren Peace beyond. We fade to black.
