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Two Birds with a Single Stone
Topic Started: Dec 17 2009, 01:02 AM (167 Views)
xShanex
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"Abraham Lincoln once said "Whatever you are, be a good one." Such a simple statement, but within the fraction of a second which the various tones of a man this country bases their so-called "Liberty and Justice for all" mentality sounded out, lifetimes of philosophy were given graciously to the bare ear. It is a quote to which many believe they understand, but little actually do."

We open to a night scene that would make any self-respecting individual weep. Bright, neon lights glowing in shades of yellow, red, pink, and green lit the path of littered concrete through the downtown district of Wichita, Kansas. It is on this stage that we find the many actors of our show, performing their own pieces for our viewing pleasure. Uptight suits carrying expensive briefcases rushing to their big desks to spend their day yelling at others for not doing jobs that they themselves could not comprehend. Probably republican, pompous ass. Maybe your favorite character is man we like to identify as a "thug". Baggy jeans, brand name clothing, and diamonds bigger than their knuckles. Look at him, his clothing costs more than groceries for weeks, still his kids go hungry.....well, at least the ones he knows, and what will this guy do, blame "The Man" for his misfortune. Not your cup of tea? Perhaps the Mother struggling with her infant. Her face reflects what resides in the homes of many modern day parents, defeat. Her child, a boy near the age of three, is as innocent in appearance as they come. Look at him, those small curls in his blonde hair, those precious baby blue eyes. If only the angel that was presented to us wasn’t just a façade for the demon that resided within. Throwing his bottle which contained a juice, deep-red in color, to the ground, the boy follows his actions up with a tantrum and a screech which seemed impossible to be produced by such a small frame. What does his Mother do? Exactly what he wants, asks him politely to stop, and gives him his drink back, setting herself up for the same vicious cycle to begin again If only she could have had some sleep, maybe she would’ve caught that?

It is on these streets where we find the headliner of our show, our lead into the sad exchanges of everyday society. Through the mass of humanity, paying attention to none but themselves as they make their way to their own personal vices, we see Ryan Shane. Against a wall formed of aged red brick and concrete he stood. Just another lamb in the flock, refusing to be herded by the chemical Shepard, guiding the sheep to the slaughter with his crook made of ecstacy. His upper body was clothed in a black t-shirt. The front of this article of clothing could have served as a window into this man’s psych, as the letters “D.A.R.E.” in red crossed his chest. Above this was a red hoody, unzipped to expose the logo on the shirt, the zipper placed in just the right position to give the skeletal figure placed on the front in black a lobotomy, it’s arms crossed over it’s chest as if it was being laid to rest. The hood of this jacket was raised just slightly over the head, leaving enough space to show the black baseball cap the man wore, red stripes placed horizontally across it, a black cross finishing the piece. The man looked down toward the ground, eyeing his tortured blue jeans and black sneakers, as well as the various colored gum that had hardened to the walkway below. After placing his hands in his pockets, the man brought his head up just in time to meet the rush, their oppressor finally allowing them to “Walk.” As this parade of human indecency marched by, their faces seemed blurred to the gray eyes of our lead. They were all the same, as far as he was concerned.

"Our primitive, animalistic minds focus on the late half of the sentence, which speaks of being a "good one." That's all we really care about, right? Being good, no, the best. That's all we ever care about. It's Darwinism at its finest, and man is always ready to prove that the survivor is the fittest, the top of the food chain.......the best. Ready to kill each other at the drop of a dime just to hear the praise of the masses, to know we're the better man. Now why is that? Why do we care so much about having our names placed on the top of the ladder for people that have no impact on our lives to see? The answer is simple, it's all we have. We're all alone, whether you're surrounded by quote friends and family unquote or lurking in the shadows, hiding your face to avoid the cold stare of disapproval, and we all long for that sense of belonging."

These words, not being emitted from Ryan's lips but out of thin air like a voice from a higher power, He just stood there, watching the pathetic excuses for his fellow man pass him by. No, these weren't his fellow man, he was above them.

"This brings us to the climax of our famous line. The first few words contain one imply answer, but many questions. "Whatever you are". That brings me a good question, what are you? Think about it, can you honestly answer that? No, I don't mean saying that you're something, I mean looking yourself in the mirror, reaching down to the depths of your soul, and to use a cliché line, finding yourself. That's all we ever want, isn't it? To find out what we are, and if that is accompanied by acceptance, we have reached a realistic version of nirvana."

Ryan reached his hand from his right-pocket, bringing it up to his chin. As he rubbed his face in a stereotypcal thinking position, his goatee lightly scratching the skin on his fingers. As he tried to form some sort of image in the hardened gum on the sidewalk below him. This was definately a case of boredom for the worst.

Let's make the trip together, shall we? Let's look inside our minds and bring forth our true identities. Focus now. Imagine in front of you right now a door. A door that, on the other side, contains every answer that you've ever wanted, or will want. Do you have the strength to open it? Reach out, and push with all of our might, as if your life depended on it, because it will one day. You open the door, and you step inside. We're inside our hearts............"

Ryan's hand left his face as his eyes looked up, connecting with the thousands of viewers. Nothing but intensity, that's all that was sent through the emotional waves from Shane to the various men and women listening to his words and viewing his life.

".........This is Your Life."

These last words echoed out into space as the scene faded down to a stil black, but stayed electrically actve, as the second piece of this video address was about to begin.




As the video connection began to complete, and we find ourselves in yet another CZW segment, a shot of a striking logo was locked into place for all to see.

Posted Image

With sides drawn and threats issued, We realize behind the fading image is the scene where our footage would take place. A long, white washed hallway seemed to go on forever, oak doors, or more like oak-painted doors, were placed in even intervals to lead any making a journy down this path to a way out at any given time, but that was what made this scene so interesting, there were no travelers. The cheap flourecent lightbulbs overhead revealed the all but empty passage to our eyes. Nothing remained.....aside from one individual. Set in the very middle of the hall was a steel folding chair, sitting on it as if it were his thrown was Ryan Shane. Dawning a sapphire-colored t-shirt, the words "Drug-Free Youth" in black letters and a pair of switch blades crosing in an X behind them. He wore a pair of black tortured jeans and matching skater-style shoes. He folded his hands in a style that some would refer to as prayer, his elbows resting on his knees. As he pressed his lips to his hands, breathing lightly through his nose, thoughts of recent events raced through his head.

"I told you. I told you all. I made my oath that last week, there would be blood, and surprise,surprise, there was not just one man who watched their life force flow from their forehead, but two. A local pawn in the unstoppable army that is the Straight Edge movement, and a giant among men. Both names pressed firmly below my boot as I slowly claim CZW as my own, but that's not what will be the talk of the wrestling world this week. No, sadly, it will be the cowardice of just another guy trying and failing to make some form of impact against argueably the hottest rising star in Combat Zone Wrestling today."

Ryan's head nodded as if by it's own choice, acknowledging the truth in the words to which Ryan spoke. Maybe it was a sign of understanding, or maybe this was a signal of Ryan's slow trip to the edge of sanity?

"Buck Evans. Buck Evans, you cousin f*cking, moonshine smuggling, inbred son of a bitch. What do you really think you accomplished last week? what in hell makes you think you've done a damn thing? You attack a man who defeated two of, as some would say, the top names in this company in a single match, from behind no less, and get an ovation for a king afterward. How does that make you feel, Buck? Does it make you feel happy knowing that you're still seen as a hero of sorts to these people? Is that really what you want? To be the name on the venomous lips of these mindless puppets? Well, I sit here today to inform you of a nice little secret..."

Ryan's eyes left the floor, his lips form his hands as he rested his chin on them now, his thumbs pressing to his lower jaw.

"...you didn't accomplish anything. Really all you did was give me a reason to hurt you. It's like when you were younger, and you and all of your country bumpkin buddies were wading in the muddy filth that you called home, and you bet each other to run up to the neighbors savage pitbull and strike it. whoever outran it was the winner, you remember that game, Evans? Do you remember the kid who lost, Buck? Do you remember the sight of those jowls of ill-content sinking into his thigh, tearing at the tendons and muscle? I hope you do, and I hope you've learned something form it, because you're only half-way across that yard boy."

Ryan leaned back in his chair, the sound of one of it's peg-like legs sliding on the black tiled floor echoed down and up the abandoned hall. Reaching his left arm back and resting it on the back of the chair, Ryan found a more comfortable position.

"Now you may be wondering, "Why Ryan? Why didn't you fight back? All of those years of training? All of those black belts, how did Buck Evans sneek up on you like that?" Hahaha, that's a good question. Honestly, I had my reasons for taking a nice "Buck the World", or BTW as they call it , on a stop sign no less. One of them being that I had just gone through hell moments before, and even then I could've put up some sort of fight, but really, I wouldn't have won. A fully-rested redneck, probably running on some homemade crystal meth, versus a battered and beaten man who had consumed nothing but water right before, it's an obvious choice. A second reason being that it was just proof that I speak the truth. I became a martyr for my ideals, as a man who cannot handle the tides of change did all he knew how to do, get drunk and beat somebody up. It's a wicked price to pay, but I take the pain with pride, because I now have even more ammunition to use in my war against poisoned society. You see, Buck, the reason I didn't strike was because I'm not a member of this pathetic game of Russian Roulette. No, not the player, but the revolver laying ahead of you, waiting for you to place my cold, hard steel to your temple, and pull the trigger. I do not act unless action is necessary."

A sinister smirk slowly creeped onto the face of "The Straight Edge Curse". It was obvious that he had something brewing inside the dark depths of his mind, but what? What could make Ryan so happy that he could smile into the face of his enemy?

"Which brings me to this week. I'm once again placed into a war with more than ne other man, but for the first time I have a man who I can call an ally. A man who has proven himself a threat to the majority of the CZW roster, and that man is "The Career Killer" Andrew Clash. Now, it would be simply a slaughter if Evans would be placed in the ring for the lions that are to team of Shane and Clash to tear him to pieces for the brooding masses, but with the arrival of my ally, I also inherit his current troubles in the form of "The OGT" Maynard O'Toole."

Ryan's lip ring began to move, informing all of us at home that he was licking it from the inside of his mouth, a game he played to pass time in fits of boredom, or when in deep thought.

"Maynard makes this match even more interesting to me. Like a hunter being informed that his daily kill will be worth twice as much, I find myself ready to collect by all means. Former World Heavyweight Champion. Former and current Intercontinental Champion, the longest reigning I may add. Maynard, I have no hatred toward you. This match has no personal gain other than the fact that you are considered one of the best in CZW, which makes the thought of mounting your head above my fireplace even more appealing. Add the utter sacrifice of Buck Evans to that mix, and I will have eliminated a total of five men in my three weeks since debuting."

Ryan's maniacal smirk extended now, depicting his sick sense of pride to the fans.

"How can I handle the pressure? How can I step into the ring with two of CZW's top names, and not show even a slight bit of intimidation? That is easily answered. It's because I'm better than them. I'm better than all of them, simply because I know so. What are past titles but crowns already lost,correct? Of course I am. What are names but addresses given to us by means of our parents? These things have no meaning to me, nor should they to you. My opponents are both fairly large, equally as violent, yet to me, they're tame. They're powerful, I'm stronger. They're strategists, I'm always three steps ahead. Is there a chance that I will fall in this match? Not likely. I kick harder, I punch harder, and I just don't die, but if that's not enough...."

Three small chuckles quickly rose into a mass of cackles to which could be associated with demonic possession. Each howling note racing down the hall, as if alive in it's own form. Within seconds, Ryan seemed mad with entertainment, but slowly reduced back to a calm state of mind.

"....let's just say the best magicians always have a few tricks up their sleeves incase of an emergency. As I said, I'm always planning. Even now, I'm measuring my odds, and I'm liking the numbers. Andrew Clash may as well stay home, because I'm going to have too much fun ripping the hearts from the chests of both CZW's walking Jeff Foxworthy joke, and a man who is placed too far in the past to possibly affect the present. I leave you with these few words. I'm ready to leave the debuting stage of my CZW career, and become a member of the list for title contendership. Maybe then will you realize that I'm nothing but a prophet for something you can believe in. Your own personal jesus, but most importantly...."

With his eyes filled with victory this early in the week, and his arms crossed over his chest in an X like the black ones that were forever placed on the skin of his hands, he exclaimed his words to the world.

"....I'm Straight Edge, and I'm better than you!"

A few closed lipped chuckles were all that remained as the camer zoomed out, expanding the hallway to bring a realization that Ryan was tens of feet away. As we fade to a still black, the intensity of this war that would be raged in just a few days remained.
Edited by xShanex, Dec 17 2009, 02:04 AM.
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