Post by The Paragon of Hardcore on Dec 17, 2010 21:56:47 GMT -4
*The pirated video feed of The Blackwells’ Personal Cameraman, Emrys statics into life to show the interior of the IWC Arena. Its still a couple of days until Massacre on 34th Street blows the doors off this place and the man who is fixing to be the first IWC Insane Champion of the President Jeff Era is sitting on the top turnbuckle of one of the corners. He almost looks like a predator perched there, leaning on his Singapore Cane. The smile that spreads across his lips like a disease almost reaches his ice blue eyes… almost.*
Trevor: Lets dispense with the pleasantries, shall we? I knew I was going to have to cut another promo today but I’ve had a very full day. ‘Tis the season and all that… I know I only have a short time to do this before Reggie shuts off the live steaming webfeeds in time for the Supercard so I’m going to try to fit in as much as possible. I wouldn’t bother. I wasn’t planning on doing another one of these but after hearing a few of my opponents’ remarks… there’s just a few things on my mind that I can’t leave unsaid. So I think I plan on running with this cameratime until they shut me down.
Honestly, I’ve been watching the promos the rest of my so called rivals have been putting out and I have to say that I’m starting to wonder if every last one of you is retarded. Why do you all act like you’ve been living under a rock all this time? Are you really not aware of who I am? I’m the heir apparent to the IWC Insane Champion and there’s only two things any of you can do about it… deal with it and drop to your knees. See, this is my kingdom. Because I’m in IWC, I honestly do feel a sense of entitlement. I guess you can call this arena The House That Trevor Built because if not for my blood and sweat and tears, none of you would be here today.
James Chambers calls me condescending. The Gambler says I’m waving my dick around. You even stoop so low as to mock Damian Dimitri for following my ideals… calling him blind… calling him a puppet… calling him my “He-Bitch”… But none of it holds water. All your arguments reek of ignorance. Damian Dimitri is a visionary. He’s an Einstein or a Graham Bell or an Edison amongst the ignorant masses. I have yet to hear one valid argument or point made against either of us at all over the past two weeks. All of your promos just ooze desperation because no one can find any real flaws in our game. Madok Mortalis resorts to sophomoric gay jokes. Chris Cyrus whines about a loss two years ago. The Gambler nitpicks at our names. Anthony James bitches about how none of our matches are normal. Delilah avoids the subject entirely. Not one of you have said one thing of worth that could hope to penetrate the armor of The Blackwells.
Gambler… You accuse me of picking a dick waving contest. You and your mirror image, Chris Cyrus say I still brag about my past accolades… HELL FUCKING YEAH I do. Do you honestly think you’re on the same level as me? Do you know how many ppv main events have you headlined in how many different companies? How many stables of warriors have you lead to total dominance in every last wrestling promotion you’ve been in? How many countries have you stolen the show in? How many legends have you defeated? How many titles I’ve held? How many Divisions have you put on the map? How many federations have you carried on your back? Those questions go for every other person in contention tonight.
I’ve earned every last bragging right I have… and indeed I have many. That’s why I’ve put my body on the line night in and night out. That’s why I’ve exposed by body to broken glass and barbed wire and thumbtacks and leaps off balconies and flaming infernos and steel chairs and tables and steel cages and ladders and Last Man Standing Matches and 60 Minute Hardcore Bloodbaths and slams through steel entrance stages and dog collars with drug addicts and Elimination Chambers. That’s why I’ve fought for so long into such a lengthy career. But I wasn’t going on and on about my past glories to try to impress anyone. I don’t need to. I’m not some hungry young rookie with a chip on his shoulder. I was trying to warn him. I was trying to save him from the overwhelming beating he’s going to take at the Supercard. I was trying to save him the embarrassment of being obliterated on such a big platform. I was trying to get him to stay home and slip under the radar with Anthony James and Harry Durden. Be unobtrusive. Keep his mouth shut before it writes too many checks that he just doesn’t have the ability to cash anymore.
Ten years… How many of you can say that you’ve been winning titles and putting yourself through hell and entertaining the crowds and shortening careers consistently for ten years? That’s why you’re not going to get past me at Massacre on 34th Street, Gambler. Because at this late stage in my career, I am far more talented, have much more momentum, and am much more entertaining that you are in the twilight of yours. Its not because you suck. You’re a solid worker who’s best days very well may not be completely gone if you continue with your Viagra. But I really am just better than you. I am the only man worthy of being IWC Insane Champion this Sunday. Its just a cold, hard fact you’ll all have to face.
Madok Mortalis is another colossal disappointment in my eyes. Like Damian, I honestly thought he was going to be a force to be reckoned with here in Insane Championship Wrestling. I thought he might actually be a minor threat that I was going to have to get my protégé to injure out with a broken limb of some sort to assure my title victory. But he turned out to be nothing more than another arrogant prick with delusions of grandeur. I know I talk about myself a lot but I’m really the only one here with the resume to back up my big mouth. I really am every damn that that I claim to be. I’ve proven it over and over and over again over the last decade. What has Madok Mortalis accomplished? One win over some undercarders. That doesn’t qualify this fucking clown to carry my Singapore Cane for me let alone stand across the ring from me. I’m a Motherfucking Blackwell. I am Wrestling Royalty. My last name is a dynasty that I created. He is a cheap tagalong for a lackluster APW Champion. It shows how far that place has fallen since I took all the Sex and Violence with me when I left.
James Chambers is another loudmouth with no balls to back it up. Don’t get it twisted… James Chambers is black so that makes him a commodity for marketability on Long Island… and he’s rather entertaining as a comedy act… but his performances so far have been boring and uninspired. I mean, he lost to the fucking Gambler and Chris Cyrus. And he thinks he’s ready to come for me? While he’s prattling on about bbq ribs and unemployed relatives and has been actors, I’m kicking ass and getting ready for the IWC Insane Championship. But he talks a very good game and needs to be put in his place in the Battle Royal. James, you better pray you don’t make it past my prodigy. You better pray that he holds you back from the ass kicking that I’m going to give you. I’ll give you a shot when all is said and done if you don’t believe me. After my IWC Insane Title victory, you can be number one contender so you can get closure on your clownish fucking career. You try to pad your resume with the one real accolade you seem to have… being EWC World Heavyweight Champion. The only reason you held that title was that I was too busy leading armies and headlining pay per views in APW to worry about your nickel and dime operation. And by the time I was ready to turn my sights towards the EWC, you were shutting down your doors. I believe the owner of that company even wrestles in APW on occasion, doesn’t he? President Jeff seems to attract failed wrestling promoters looking to rekindle the glory days of the main even career they had before they became the boss or struck out on their own. I’m one too. The difference between them and me is that I still got it. I still have a few more chair shots left to me. I’ve still got a few more Singapore Cane beatings to dish out in the future. So save yourself the pain and doctor’s bills and head back to whatever minority infested ghetto you crawled out of, you dirty fucking hoodrat. Go heat up some ribs and see if its not too late to tag along with Madok Mortalis and go chase clouds or some other facetious bullshit like that.
And then there’s Chris Cyrus. I hear he’s Simply Awesome these days. I don’t know… I lost interest in him after his partnership with Vinnie HaRdCoRe three years ago. According to him, the loss that he’s obsessed about all these years was to some nobody named Trevor Blackwell way back when.
Kid, I need to say this directly to you. I need you to listen long and apply these next few words to what’s left of your short and uneventful career. Don’t think I tried to kill you in your first match because I thought you were something special or because I wanted to test you or because I wanted to put you out because I thought you were a threat. Don’t think that thing between us was anything special. You were just another body. You were just an example of what my comeback was going to be like in APW. And by giving you the best match of your career, I sent you into meaningless feuds with Jason Royce and I catapulted to the main event scene. You were a springboard. I was starting my rampage with the worst wrestler I could find at the time. You were never anything special to me. I didn’t even give you another thought until I heard you running your mouth in your first IWC promo. That one moment stuck in my mind, Kid. I heard you telling the wrestling world that you were still bitter about IWC trying to put APW out of business a couple years ago and you wanted to personally vent your whiny angst at the people responsible. Well, look no further than right here, Kid. I am the one responsible. Come bring all of your bitchy rage right here. I know you’re going to get past Jason Royce. Everyone knows you’re going to get past Jason Royce. Shit… my daughter could get past Jason Royce. But wait… I guess that doesn’t really mean anything… Skyler’s a lot more Hardcore than the Hardcore Kid ever was.
Though I hear you don’t like to be called that anymore, Chris. I hear that after you tried so hard to be considered Hardcore and failed miserably you became some kind of Anti-Hardcore Crusader. I mean, suddenly you were watching the guy that you boasted to about how Hardcore you were having Last Man Standing matches with Kenny Lambardo for the APW World Heavyweight Title and then tried to run the place that you underachieved in for so long be bashed publically by a company that bastard created… that was putting on shows so much better than anything APW was putting out… you decided that you would hate since you couldn’t emulate. Well it doesn’t matter… I really do hope you make it past Jason Royce in the best condition possible. I hope you come after me seeking revenge when I’ve already been through utter Hell with The Gambler… I hope you come at me with absolutely everything you have. Because I’ve got a Full Throttle with your name on it. I’ve got another Singapore Cane shot to match the scar you already have from me. And maybe if you’re lucky I’ll finish what I started years ago. I’ll show you that you’re still nothing special.
All of you glorified midcarders make fun of The Barbed Wire Buzzsaw for his blind order taking but if any of you had half a brain or any kind of savvy for this business, you’d follow him. You’d turn towards me and drop to your knees… proclaiming me as the ture King of Hardcore that I am. I am a Master of my craft and you could all do well to learn something from me. Maybe some of you could even manage to string two wins together. The IWC Fairthful understand. They get it. That’s why they chant our names no matter how brutal the Blackwells are. That’s why they can’t help but scream for me to shed even their other favorites’ blood when they’re in the ring with me… because they’ve always known what the rest of you seemingly have yet to catch up to. I’m already IWC Insane Champion. I’m the only one who could’ve ever been the choice to bear that glory and burden. I’m the only one truly willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good and future of Insane Wrestling Championships in 2011. I’ve been the Harbinger of things to come since a decade ago when I walked into the Combat Wrestling Federation and ended Rush’s career. Well, the Future is Now. Bow while you still can…
*The Blackwell’s Personal Cameraman, Emrys looks down to his watch and signals his employer.*
Trevor: End of my camera time, huh? Doesn’t matter. I really don’t have anything else to say. I’m going to win the title. Everyone should really j
Trevor: Lets dispense with the pleasantries, shall we? I knew I was going to have to cut another promo today but I’ve had a very full day. ‘Tis the season and all that… I know I only have a short time to do this before Reggie shuts off the live steaming webfeeds in time for the Supercard so I’m going to try to fit in as much as possible. I wouldn’t bother. I wasn’t planning on doing another one of these but after hearing a few of my opponents’ remarks… there’s just a few things on my mind that I can’t leave unsaid. So I think I plan on running with this cameratime until they shut me down.
Honestly, I’ve been watching the promos the rest of my so called rivals have been putting out and I have to say that I’m starting to wonder if every last one of you is retarded. Why do you all act like you’ve been living under a rock all this time? Are you really not aware of who I am? I’m the heir apparent to the IWC Insane Champion and there’s only two things any of you can do about it… deal with it and drop to your knees. See, this is my kingdom. Because I’m in IWC, I honestly do feel a sense of entitlement. I guess you can call this arena The House That Trevor Built because if not for my blood and sweat and tears, none of you would be here today.
James Chambers calls me condescending. The Gambler says I’m waving my dick around. You even stoop so low as to mock Damian Dimitri for following my ideals… calling him blind… calling him a puppet… calling him my “He-Bitch”… But none of it holds water. All your arguments reek of ignorance. Damian Dimitri is a visionary. He’s an Einstein or a Graham Bell or an Edison amongst the ignorant masses. I have yet to hear one valid argument or point made against either of us at all over the past two weeks. All of your promos just ooze desperation because no one can find any real flaws in our game. Madok Mortalis resorts to sophomoric gay jokes. Chris Cyrus whines about a loss two years ago. The Gambler nitpicks at our names. Anthony James bitches about how none of our matches are normal. Delilah avoids the subject entirely. Not one of you have said one thing of worth that could hope to penetrate the armor of The Blackwells.
Gambler… You accuse me of picking a dick waving contest. You and your mirror image, Chris Cyrus say I still brag about my past accolades… HELL FUCKING YEAH I do. Do you honestly think you’re on the same level as me? Do you know how many ppv main events have you headlined in how many different companies? How many stables of warriors have you lead to total dominance in every last wrestling promotion you’ve been in? How many countries have you stolen the show in? How many legends have you defeated? How many titles I’ve held? How many Divisions have you put on the map? How many federations have you carried on your back? Those questions go for every other person in contention tonight.
I’ve earned every last bragging right I have… and indeed I have many. That’s why I’ve put my body on the line night in and night out. That’s why I’ve exposed by body to broken glass and barbed wire and thumbtacks and leaps off balconies and flaming infernos and steel chairs and tables and steel cages and ladders and Last Man Standing Matches and 60 Minute Hardcore Bloodbaths and slams through steel entrance stages and dog collars with drug addicts and Elimination Chambers. That’s why I’ve fought for so long into such a lengthy career. But I wasn’t going on and on about my past glories to try to impress anyone. I don’t need to. I’m not some hungry young rookie with a chip on his shoulder. I was trying to warn him. I was trying to save him from the overwhelming beating he’s going to take at the Supercard. I was trying to save him the embarrassment of being obliterated on such a big platform. I was trying to get him to stay home and slip under the radar with Anthony James and Harry Durden. Be unobtrusive. Keep his mouth shut before it writes too many checks that he just doesn’t have the ability to cash anymore.
Ten years… How many of you can say that you’ve been winning titles and putting yourself through hell and entertaining the crowds and shortening careers consistently for ten years? That’s why you’re not going to get past me at Massacre on 34th Street, Gambler. Because at this late stage in my career, I am far more talented, have much more momentum, and am much more entertaining that you are in the twilight of yours. Its not because you suck. You’re a solid worker who’s best days very well may not be completely gone if you continue with your Viagra. But I really am just better than you. I am the only man worthy of being IWC Insane Champion this Sunday. Its just a cold, hard fact you’ll all have to face.
Madok Mortalis is another colossal disappointment in my eyes. Like Damian, I honestly thought he was going to be a force to be reckoned with here in Insane Championship Wrestling. I thought he might actually be a minor threat that I was going to have to get my protégé to injure out with a broken limb of some sort to assure my title victory. But he turned out to be nothing more than another arrogant prick with delusions of grandeur. I know I talk about myself a lot but I’m really the only one here with the resume to back up my big mouth. I really am every damn that that I claim to be. I’ve proven it over and over and over again over the last decade. What has Madok Mortalis accomplished? One win over some undercarders. That doesn’t qualify this fucking clown to carry my Singapore Cane for me let alone stand across the ring from me. I’m a Motherfucking Blackwell. I am Wrestling Royalty. My last name is a dynasty that I created. He is a cheap tagalong for a lackluster APW Champion. It shows how far that place has fallen since I took all the Sex and Violence with me when I left.
James Chambers is another loudmouth with no balls to back it up. Don’t get it twisted… James Chambers is black so that makes him a commodity for marketability on Long Island… and he’s rather entertaining as a comedy act… but his performances so far have been boring and uninspired. I mean, he lost to the fucking Gambler and Chris Cyrus. And he thinks he’s ready to come for me? While he’s prattling on about bbq ribs and unemployed relatives and has been actors, I’m kicking ass and getting ready for the IWC Insane Championship. But he talks a very good game and needs to be put in his place in the Battle Royal. James, you better pray you don’t make it past my prodigy. You better pray that he holds you back from the ass kicking that I’m going to give you. I’ll give you a shot when all is said and done if you don’t believe me. After my IWC Insane Title victory, you can be number one contender so you can get closure on your clownish fucking career. You try to pad your resume with the one real accolade you seem to have… being EWC World Heavyweight Champion. The only reason you held that title was that I was too busy leading armies and headlining pay per views in APW to worry about your nickel and dime operation. And by the time I was ready to turn my sights towards the EWC, you were shutting down your doors. I believe the owner of that company even wrestles in APW on occasion, doesn’t he? President Jeff seems to attract failed wrestling promoters looking to rekindle the glory days of the main even career they had before they became the boss or struck out on their own. I’m one too. The difference between them and me is that I still got it. I still have a few more chair shots left to me. I’ve still got a few more Singapore Cane beatings to dish out in the future. So save yourself the pain and doctor’s bills and head back to whatever minority infested ghetto you crawled out of, you dirty fucking hoodrat. Go heat up some ribs and see if its not too late to tag along with Madok Mortalis and go chase clouds or some other facetious bullshit like that.
And then there’s Chris Cyrus. I hear he’s Simply Awesome these days. I don’t know… I lost interest in him after his partnership with Vinnie HaRdCoRe three years ago. According to him, the loss that he’s obsessed about all these years was to some nobody named Trevor Blackwell way back when.
Kid, I need to say this directly to you. I need you to listen long and apply these next few words to what’s left of your short and uneventful career. Don’t think I tried to kill you in your first match because I thought you were something special or because I wanted to test you or because I wanted to put you out because I thought you were a threat. Don’t think that thing between us was anything special. You were just another body. You were just an example of what my comeback was going to be like in APW. And by giving you the best match of your career, I sent you into meaningless feuds with Jason Royce and I catapulted to the main event scene. You were a springboard. I was starting my rampage with the worst wrestler I could find at the time. You were never anything special to me. I didn’t even give you another thought until I heard you running your mouth in your first IWC promo. That one moment stuck in my mind, Kid. I heard you telling the wrestling world that you were still bitter about IWC trying to put APW out of business a couple years ago and you wanted to personally vent your whiny angst at the people responsible. Well, look no further than right here, Kid. I am the one responsible. Come bring all of your bitchy rage right here. I know you’re going to get past Jason Royce. Everyone knows you’re going to get past Jason Royce. Shit… my daughter could get past Jason Royce. But wait… I guess that doesn’t really mean anything… Skyler’s a lot more Hardcore than the Hardcore Kid ever was.
Though I hear you don’t like to be called that anymore, Chris. I hear that after you tried so hard to be considered Hardcore and failed miserably you became some kind of Anti-Hardcore Crusader. I mean, suddenly you were watching the guy that you boasted to about how Hardcore you were having Last Man Standing matches with Kenny Lambardo for the APW World Heavyweight Title and then tried to run the place that you underachieved in for so long be bashed publically by a company that bastard created… that was putting on shows so much better than anything APW was putting out… you decided that you would hate since you couldn’t emulate. Well it doesn’t matter… I really do hope you make it past Jason Royce in the best condition possible. I hope you come after me seeking revenge when I’ve already been through utter Hell with The Gambler… I hope you come at me with absolutely everything you have. Because I’ve got a Full Throttle with your name on it. I’ve got another Singapore Cane shot to match the scar you already have from me. And maybe if you’re lucky I’ll finish what I started years ago. I’ll show you that you’re still nothing special.
All of you glorified midcarders make fun of The Barbed Wire Buzzsaw for his blind order taking but if any of you had half a brain or any kind of savvy for this business, you’d follow him. You’d turn towards me and drop to your knees… proclaiming me as the ture King of Hardcore that I am. I am a Master of my craft and you could all do well to learn something from me. Maybe some of you could even manage to string two wins together. The IWC Fairthful understand. They get it. That’s why they chant our names no matter how brutal the Blackwells are. That’s why they can’t help but scream for me to shed even their other favorites’ blood when they’re in the ring with me… because they’ve always known what the rest of you seemingly have yet to catch up to. I’m already IWC Insane Champion. I’m the only one who could’ve ever been the choice to bear that glory and burden. I’m the only one truly willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good and future of Insane Wrestling Championships in 2011. I’ve been the Harbinger of things to come since a decade ago when I walked into the Combat Wrestling Federation and ended Rush’s career. Well, the Future is Now. Bow while you still can…
*The Blackwell’s Personal Cameraman, Emrys looks down to his watch and signals his employer.*
Trevor: End of my camera time, huh? Doesn’t matter. I really don’t have anything else to say. I’m going to win the title. Everyone should really j
