Post by R.W. Randolph on Jan 30, 2011 19:29:47 GMT -5
(Fade in.)
"Either you are or you aren't. Either way it's gonna suck to be you..."
(When last seen, R.W. Randolph had a confrontation with none other than the Known Unknown. The masked man who calls himself "The Coldest Player in the Game" landed a punch, R.W. came out of the situation with one of the masks his adversary was wearing. And the first shots of what could well be the feud of 2011 were fired.
Screen has a closeup of R.W. Randolph, wearing his black trucker's cap, Aviators, and Denim work shirt. He is grasping the torn off mask from last Solitary. He speaks to it, as if speaking to the Known Unknown himself.)
Randolph: Maybe I'm wrong, masked man. It's not a impossibility. You could have presumed the easiest way to make a name for yourself is to throw on a mask and start running around invoking images of someone else. You could have come up with the idea to go as far as to even imitate his moves, his mannerisms, and his voice. You know, I will acknowledge the possibility that I'm wrong. I will also acknowledge that if you're as smart as you claim to be you'd know that, by going down this road, you've easily attracted entirely too much of the wrong kind of attention. Understand that you invoked the name of an elite competitor. For your own well being, you had best be able to back up the game your playing.
It's not that I give a shit one way or the other. It's just that Meiou is prepared for an elite competitor. Frontier has run with wrestlers who at one point were elite, so he could be prepared for an elite competitor. Blake Gold doesn't know what he's getting himself into. Who knows with the new girl. Ms. Roshan Nocturne has survived elite competition, and even if she isn't as concerned as she should be, she has a general idea. And if you don't think I'm prepared for an elite competitor, you don't know me worth shit. Call me Blanka and brag about how you've played me all you want, Vato. You better understand this: If you're some nobody trying to be more important than you actually are, it's gonna end disastrously for you. And even worse, if you're Chris Jacobs, I'll do in the other ankle.
(R.W. smirks, lowering the mask. He looks to the camera, to acknowledge its existence. He then looks back to the hood, it raised back to it's original position. It's almost as if he's staring into the soul of the mask and, by extension, the soul of the man who wore it.)
Randolph: But Maybe I'm Right, masked man. Maybe I have you dead to rights on who I think you are. I think that, if I am, you should thank me. Like I told you face to face. We both know what you're all about, Vato: Hype. You want people to care about you. You want to see your name in the lights. You want the dirt sheets writing about you. Coldest Player in the Game, your wildest dreams came true when I stepped out from behind my desk. You can't not hear about it. Every wrestling commentator is wondering who you are. Everybody from Rajah to Dave Metzler is pounding away on their keyboards asking who is important enough to make R.W. Randolph come out of retirement? There's your hype. Here's some more...
(R.W. stands. He's holding the mask as he walks away from the camera. It zooms out to reveal his blue jeans and a white backdrop. The light notices a small glint sticking out from his right pocket, above a noticeable bulge. The Infractus Sanctus logo is apparent in the center, with the words "Road 2 Glory" written above it. The Broken Saint grabs the item from his right pocket as he sets the mask against the logo. An object is slowly turned, to reveal the object to be an icepick. Randolph then stabs the Icepick at an angle into the wall, through the Mask's Left eye hole. R.W. then faces the camera, in front of his bit of performance art.)
Randolph: There's been much talk about violent rhetoric in the media here lately. And I'm sure the Known Unknown is gonna have plenty to say about what was just done. Now, let's get obvious: I have no intention on stabbing this guy, whoever he may be, through the left eye with an icepick. The fact is, it's gonna come down to the final 7. Meiou got his free pass. He busts a lot of ass. So, he deserves it. I don't like the idea, but so be it. Ms. Nocturne is gonna face the new girl. That one should be ridiculous. I'm curious to see how that one goes.
(A well placed pause. R.W.'s eyes go back to the mask. He addresses it once more.)
Randolph: I've set the table for you, Vato. You have all the hype in the world. The easy part is over and done with. Now comes the hard part. For you, the hard part is harder. Your opposition is none other than Blake Gold. Like him, hate him, whatever you want it makes no difference. He is young and hungry. More than that, he is the spoiler in the Road 2 Glory brackets. He's only really faltered against Roshan Nocturne. He had a hard time with Tanabashi, but their match ended with controversy. He's looking to take the fast track to the top of the proverbial mountain. For all the hype and all the mystery to be worthwhile, masked man, you have to beat this kid. And I will say this: Gold will be a serious test, but I think you can beat him. In fact, if you really are who I think you are, I would Expect you to beat him. So there's the bar, set really god damned high. Your job is to meet expectations.
(R.W. then returns his attention to the camera. His eyes are focused as he utters his next words.)
Randolph: And don't think I'm over looking you, either, Frontier. I understand your position, and I understand your goals. I know you are looking to cross that line to the next level. I don't fault you for that. You could just as easily spoil the big hype train I've started as Blake Gold could. I have to hold up my end of the bargain just as the Known Unknown does.
I'm kind of in the same situation with you that I was with Nathan Lucas. I remember those few years ago, when I was in Colosseum, being pissed whenever an old timer just waltzed in and seemed to take a spot that should have been reserved for an up and comer, or fighting another old timer in a long drawn out feud no one gives a shit about. It's funny because now it seems like I'm the old timer. And I'm the one taking the spot that should belong to some up and comer. I could very well end up fighting another old timer in a long drawn out feud no one gives a shit about.
But I'm not one of those old timers. I am not the kind of person who, when it becomes obvious that I can't hang with the new guys, will claim I wasn't "giving it my all." That is an insult to your opponent but more than that, it's an insult to the people who paid to see you. The fact is, I'm gonna hit you with everything I got. If you win, then you earned it. And I'll be the first Vato there to shake your hand. If I win, then I earned it. On the bright side, you know that I'm coming.
I presume I should mention one other issue: the Dynasty. Those pieces of shit took out Christopher, and no doubt they'd love to take a shot at you. Remember this: if they involve themselves in our match, I'll take a vacation from facing you and focus on Vatos I don't care about taking out. I don't necessarily care about the League of Awesomeness, mind you. However, I can safely say that myself and a couple of... Amigos wouldn't mind taking some overrated nobodies down a peg.
This Wednesday, Idaho will be rocking. And in the main event, it's gonna be myself and Frontier. Good luck, Vato. It's a shame that in order to keep the hype train rolling, you have to be left Knocked Out... or Clocked out.
(R.W. leaves. The camera zooms in on the logo. On the Icepick are engraved the words "Only on PPV". The Broken Saint sees a huge match in the future of Road 2 Glory. If it happens, people will love to see it.
Fade out.)
"Either you are or you aren't. Either way it's gonna suck to be you..."
(When last seen, R.W. Randolph had a confrontation with none other than the Known Unknown. The masked man who calls himself "The Coldest Player in the Game" landed a punch, R.W. came out of the situation with one of the masks his adversary was wearing. And the first shots of what could well be the feud of 2011 were fired.
Screen has a closeup of R.W. Randolph, wearing his black trucker's cap, Aviators, and Denim work shirt. He is grasping the torn off mask from last Solitary. He speaks to it, as if speaking to the Known Unknown himself.)
Randolph: Maybe I'm wrong, masked man. It's not a impossibility. You could have presumed the easiest way to make a name for yourself is to throw on a mask and start running around invoking images of someone else. You could have come up with the idea to go as far as to even imitate his moves, his mannerisms, and his voice. You know, I will acknowledge the possibility that I'm wrong. I will also acknowledge that if you're as smart as you claim to be you'd know that, by going down this road, you've easily attracted entirely too much of the wrong kind of attention. Understand that you invoked the name of an elite competitor. For your own well being, you had best be able to back up the game your playing.
It's not that I give a shit one way or the other. It's just that Meiou is prepared for an elite competitor. Frontier has run with wrestlers who at one point were elite, so he could be prepared for an elite competitor. Blake Gold doesn't know what he's getting himself into. Who knows with the new girl. Ms. Roshan Nocturne has survived elite competition, and even if she isn't as concerned as she should be, she has a general idea. And if you don't think I'm prepared for an elite competitor, you don't know me worth shit. Call me Blanka and brag about how you've played me all you want, Vato. You better understand this: If you're some nobody trying to be more important than you actually are, it's gonna end disastrously for you. And even worse, if you're Chris Jacobs, I'll do in the other ankle.
(R.W. smirks, lowering the mask. He looks to the camera, to acknowledge its existence. He then looks back to the hood, it raised back to it's original position. It's almost as if he's staring into the soul of the mask and, by extension, the soul of the man who wore it.)
Randolph: But Maybe I'm Right, masked man. Maybe I have you dead to rights on who I think you are. I think that, if I am, you should thank me. Like I told you face to face. We both know what you're all about, Vato: Hype. You want people to care about you. You want to see your name in the lights. You want the dirt sheets writing about you. Coldest Player in the Game, your wildest dreams came true when I stepped out from behind my desk. You can't not hear about it. Every wrestling commentator is wondering who you are. Everybody from Rajah to Dave Metzler is pounding away on their keyboards asking who is important enough to make R.W. Randolph come out of retirement? There's your hype. Here's some more...
(R.W. stands. He's holding the mask as he walks away from the camera. It zooms out to reveal his blue jeans and a white backdrop. The light notices a small glint sticking out from his right pocket, above a noticeable bulge. The Infractus Sanctus logo is apparent in the center, with the words "Road 2 Glory" written above it. The Broken Saint grabs the item from his right pocket as he sets the mask against the logo. An object is slowly turned, to reveal the object to be an icepick. Randolph then stabs the Icepick at an angle into the wall, through the Mask's Left eye hole. R.W. then faces the camera, in front of his bit of performance art.)
Randolph: There's been much talk about violent rhetoric in the media here lately. And I'm sure the Known Unknown is gonna have plenty to say about what was just done. Now, let's get obvious: I have no intention on stabbing this guy, whoever he may be, through the left eye with an icepick. The fact is, it's gonna come down to the final 7. Meiou got his free pass. He busts a lot of ass. So, he deserves it. I don't like the idea, but so be it. Ms. Nocturne is gonna face the new girl. That one should be ridiculous. I'm curious to see how that one goes.
(A well placed pause. R.W.'s eyes go back to the mask. He addresses it once more.)
Randolph: I've set the table for you, Vato. You have all the hype in the world. The easy part is over and done with. Now comes the hard part. For you, the hard part is harder. Your opposition is none other than Blake Gold. Like him, hate him, whatever you want it makes no difference. He is young and hungry. More than that, he is the spoiler in the Road 2 Glory brackets. He's only really faltered against Roshan Nocturne. He had a hard time with Tanabashi, but their match ended with controversy. He's looking to take the fast track to the top of the proverbial mountain. For all the hype and all the mystery to be worthwhile, masked man, you have to beat this kid. And I will say this: Gold will be a serious test, but I think you can beat him. In fact, if you really are who I think you are, I would Expect you to beat him. So there's the bar, set really god damned high. Your job is to meet expectations.
(R.W. then returns his attention to the camera. His eyes are focused as he utters his next words.)
Randolph: And don't think I'm over looking you, either, Frontier. I understand your position, and I understand your goals. I know you are looking to cross that line to the next level. I don't fault you for that. You could just as easily spoil the big hype train I've started as Blake Gold could. I have to hold up my end of the bargain just as the Known Unknown does.
I'm kind of in the same situation with you that I was with Nathan Lucas. I remember those few years ago, when I was in Colosseum, being pissed whenever an old timer just waltzed in and seemed to take a spot that should have been reserved for an up and comer, or fighting another old timer in a long drawn out feud no one gives a shit about. It's funny because now it seems like I'm the old timer. And I'm the one taking the spot that should belong to some up and comer. I could very well end up fighting another old timer in a long drawn out feud no one gives a shit about.
But I'm not one of those old timers. I am not the kind of person who, when it becomes obvious that I can't hang with the new guys, will claim I wasn't "giving it my all." That is an insult to your opponent but more than that, it's an insult to the people who paid to see you. The fact is, I'm gonna hit you with everything I got. If you win, then you earned it. And I'll be the first Vato there to shake your hand. If I win, then I earned it. On the bright side, you know that I'm coming.
I presume I should mention one other issue: the Dynasty. Those pieces of shit took out Christopher, and no doubt they'd love to take a shot at you. Remember this: if they involve themselves in our match, I'll take a vacation from facing you and focus on Vatos I don't care about taking out. I don't necessarily care about the League of Awesomeness, mind you. However, I can safely say that myself and a couple of... Amigos wouldn't mind taking some overrated nobodies down a peg.
This Wednesday, Idaho will be rocking. And in the main event, it's gonna be myself and Frontier. Good luck, Vato. It's a shame that in order to keep the hype train rolling, you have to be left Knocked Out... or Clocked out.
(R.W. leaves. The camera zooms in on the logo. On the Icepick are engraved the words "Only on PPV". The Broken Saint sees a huge match in the future of Road 2 Glory. If it happens, people will love to see it.
Fade out.)
