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Posted by Death on June 3, 2004, 9:13 pm Death: Hmm...someone should pick that up. Death once again looks back at the monitor, then back at the piece of paper. Instead of getting up to put it in the trash, he picks up the remote to his left and turns on the tv. Instantly, he sees streaming promo's from the other wrestlers. Finally one with Ric Thunder comes up. It's an interview with Micheal Cole. When that ends, a strange one appears with Ric and Blaze doing what it appears to be a movie. Death shakes his head in amazement and gets out of the chair. He goes over to a mirror on the wall and stares at it. Death: What in the hell was that shit? Ric and his buddy or brother or love child or whatever that person is.....doing a movie? Hell, looked more like a spoof if you ask me. Instead of concetrating on me, he's fooling around. He thinks that I'm just a big dummy he can push over. He has another thing coming. I mean..who am I? WHO AM I?? I'm the World F'N Champion, whats who. I'm the man who's destroyed countless careers in the WFS. I've fought some of the biggest names in the business and walked away from it. Sure, I took my bumps, lost some matches, all that jazz. Everyone does. But not anymore for good ole Death. Oh no, not going to happen. Not as long as there is a breath in these lungs of mine. Far too long I've doubted myself. I've let others put stuff into my head, making me believe I'm a second class wrestler. In a way, I feel for Will Westbrook. He works his ass off and yet others doubt him. Sure, I don't like the guy..I can't stand his f*cking guts. Just like I can't stand this Ric Thunder. Thinking he is king all mighty. WHAT HAS HE DONE!!! NOTHING!!!!!!! Death takes a swing at the mirror and shatters it into a million little pieces. He looks down at his feet, at all the broken glass. Death: Yes..that felt good. Just like it will feel even better when i'm looking down at Ric Thunder. That fool thinks he can taunt me...call me a dickhead and whatnot. He has another thing coming. Yes, just like this mirror..he too shall be shatters. His dreams, his hopes..and more importantly, his bones. They shall break when I put pressure upon pressure on them. He shall cry out in pain when I'm messing up his image. His pretty boy, thug rapper image. HA! That fool can't rap, and has to spoof a movie. His interview with Micheal Cole seemed more like a ego trip for him. A trip that was really really short. I mean, what has he done in the WFS? Wow..won the European title. My god...he's the hardcore champion? HA! I've held that belt more than alot of people here. Death then goes back to his easy chair and sits down. He looks to his right, over at his gym bag. The World title is sticking out and Death smiles at it. Death: Soon, I shall carry that belt to the ring. I shall raise it up in the air for the WFS Fans to see. My name shall be chanted throughout the arena. Ric shall hear it like a roar in his ear. And then, the bell shall sound. Only one of us will walk away. And that man shall be me. I'm the true champion here, not him. I've the Peoples Champion, not anyone else. Ric thinks that this match is going to go down in history. And you know what..I feel he is right. It will go down as the fastest match in history. Ric shall learn the hard way not to mess with me. Sure, I might be a prick, but know who your talking to. Learn not to piss off the man who can crush you into a million pieces. Just like that glass, Ric will see me standing over him. He will see me holding up the World title after the ring announcer declares me the winner. And guess what Ric..nothing you do can stop that. Its the fate you have for yourself. No escaping it. Death shall claim what is his..and you shall go back to the locker room with your tail between your legs. You shall lose..and I shall win. Nothing special about it, I'm just that Damn GOOD!! And if I can beat Widowmaker, then I can beat you Ric. You've got nothing special. NOTHING!! I've got a million more things than you ever will have. So you go ahead and call yourself the New Breed of Wrestling. Call yourself King Ric Thunder or whatever. Because in the end, it all comes down to experience and talent. Something I have plenty of and what you lack. Work out some more, train alittle harder and then come back to face me. Because tommorrow night, it will all be one sided. Death shall rein supreme..and if you dont like that Ric, TOO DAMN BAD!!! Death then looks back at the tv and changes some channels until the Stanley Cup Playoffs come on.
68.60.87.194
Death is arriving at the arena for Thursday Powerhouse. He notices that the parking lot isn't nearly as backed as it should be. With a rev of the engine, Death pulls his motorcycle into a parking space. Turning off the bike, Death takes his gym bag and enters into the arena back doors. He walks through some hallways until he reaches a locker room. He enters and finds a memo sitting on a desk. Death grabs it and quickly scans it. In big bold letters is reads "THURSDAY POWERHOUSE CHANGED TO FRIDAYS". Death crumbles the peice of paper and tosses his gym bag to the side. Looking around the room, Death sees the waste paper basket. He attempts to shoot at it and misses horribly. With a shrug of his shoulders, he takes a plop in the easy chair in the middle of the room. His eyes glance at the blank monitor then at the piece of paper on the ground.
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