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| "The Siren's Song" / "What about Ryan?" | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 13 2010, 06:11 AM (304 Views) | |
| xShanex | Feb 13 2010, 06:11 AM Post #1 |
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Stay Down
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Fayetteville, North Carolina. We came into the scene with an eagle's eye view of the cityscape, its streets, its buildings, and its people. These sights were shattered, dissolving away into nothingness as we were now met with a sight that we have come accustomed to witnessing in many promos, the sidewalks of modern day America. As always, the many characters of this play of life, whether it be the mother of three, or the "functioning" alcoholic, they all were just pieces to the puzzle of America, which formed a picture too vile and ugly to describe. All that could be seen where the thighs and lower of passing men and women, going to and from one place to another, no rhyme or reason for it. The clothing on these puppets ranged form the rags of lower-class, patched and tied together like the limbs of the Frankenstein monster, to the riches of America's upper class. Designer suits, freshly-polished shoes, and the like. The beat of soles tapping concrete kept the pace like War Drums, as the camera slowly began to rise upwards, keeping the same angle as before. We now came to the shoulders and faces of these players, but in the moment, whether it was the lighting, a camera effect, or if the true nature of society was being displayed in this time, they remained faceless. Features could be made out, but wouldn't register in our minds. Eye color, expressions, all lost to the nothingness that was civilization. The cameraman pushed through, the river of forgotten souls simply moving around him, and continuing on to their meaningless occasions, and disappearing into the day. Further and further he forced his way through the crowd, like a ship through frozen waters. When the final breach had taken place, we were met with what appeared to be a whole new world, but was simply an extension of this god forsaken wasteland. A single tree grew up through the concrete sidewalks. This was made possible by man's "courtesy" of allowing a piece of nature, there far longer than he had been, to live were it rightfully claimed it's own. Sickening thieves, the lot of them. This piece of injustice was, in a way, set right, as one man had taken a stand in the presence of this great being. Ryan Shane leaned against the bark of this ancient plant, his hands inside the pockets of a Ryan Shane "D.E.A.D." hooded-sweatshirt. With the hood up, and his black baseball cap placed strategically inside, Ryan's eyes were hidden away from these undeserving animals. No, they were less than animals; they were simple dirt under his feet. He watched them walk by, his lips unmoving, but soon his voice was upon us through the miracle of video and audio editing software. "You're nobody. You all are. Even while you sit here and listen to these very words, you're slowly decaying. Your lives are ticking away, the sand is flowing like blood through the hourglass, counting down to your unavoidable judgment. It cannot be stopped. It cannot be helped. Every single one of us will die, and in the words of the movie Fight Club, until you realize this, you are useless. What's the point of life? In our eyes, it is to be remember. Perhaps as a genius? Maybe as a celebrity? Some will go on to be creators, so will evolve into champions, but what makes them all the same is the outcome. Their names will all fade away in time." Ryan remained completely still, as if a statue placed for viewing pleasure. Like he was rooted into the ground along with the tree he stood with before. "Intelligence is lost with the death of brain cells, celebrities go on to be nothing more but cheap names to drop in as plugs on modern television shows. Every creation will become useless, and championship reigns.......they all end eventually. That's why I'm living for so much more. My life is too priceless to be wasted on such trivial pursuits as a regular job, a family, a picket fence. What does that get you? How does that etch your name into the chronicles of time? Short question, shorter answer, it doesn't. Those who settled down, who got married and calmed themselves, going to an average job that they hate, they gave in. They surrendered their chance to be great. To be remembered." Ryan removed his hands from his pockets, placing them behind his head, and closing his unseen eyes. In the movement, we could see the X tattoos that marked the back of his hands, to which Ryan took much pride. Taking in a deep breath, Ryan attempted to send himself to another place. A better place, away from these cookie-cutter imitations. They were all the same, just different shades of gray. It was driving him insane. He had to escape. "I've already become more than any of you could possible hope to achieve. Sure, I don't hold a title in CZW. I'm not known as a quote, unquote, "Legend", and maybe I'm not the......most popular competitor in the world, but this wrestling, CZW, to me, is just a channel. I use this as a means to send my message to the poisoned masses who I know spend their every waking moments watching, learning about the Combat Zone and the warriors who compete every week. It's simply a means, as well as a portal to which I can vent my anger. It's nothing more. See, I'm not just some wrestler trying to make a name for himself. I'm a warrior of righteousness, a king among peasants. I'm CZW's own personal Jesus......" Ryan brought his hands down, exposing the X's on his hands once again. With the shifting of his hat and the angle of the light, his eyes could now be seen. Pure intensity and a burning rage combined together in the soul of "The Straight Edge Curse", which crawled out, as before, through his eyes. Eyes, as they say, are the portal to a human soul. "But I've not been crucified for your sins. No, I've been sentenced to death, in social terms, because of my lack there of. While you all waste away by your own hands, I stand strong, and get stronger. My youth remains intact, and will so for years to come, but you all watching, you're aging faster externally than you are in reality. It's pathetic, but it's sad, and that's my means of remaining a name in history. The man who finally brought the old ways to their knees, and created a world of sobriety. A world of purity. A Straight Edge World." The camera began to zoom out, the cameraman pacing backwards, the flowing crowd consuming our line of sight, as Ryan seemingly faded away into the waves of wasted humanity, like a specter through a wall. The camera then slowly faded to a still black, remaining active, though, for the second part of the presentation was about to begin. The darkness on the screen diminished and evaporated off of the screen like steam from a boiling pot of water. Water, that's exactly what it was. The screen was taken by the flowing life force which covers a majority of our planet earth, and remains ninety-five percent unexplored. It moved in a metronomic rhythm, back and forth, back and forth. This hypnotic motion kept our eyes locked in awe, entertained, yet mentally obliterated by the involuntary brainwashing by this aquatic experience. The trance was broken by the slightest disturbance. A pebble was skipped across the water, leaving extending rings which reached out, connecting and linking, then fading away. The camera zoomed out, panning upwards to catch a level positioning. When the camera reached the predetermined destination, our main character of this show was exposed. Ryan Shane sat on a larger rock along the coast of this body of water, now recognized as a small pond. His eyes, covered before by nothing but shadows, were now masked by a pair of pitch black sunglasses. His usual upper body coverings, a Ryan Shane or Youthful Aggression t-shirt covered by a "D.E.A.D." hooded sweatshirt or his ever famous black leather jacket, were no longer present. No, Ryan sat shirtless, his years worth of body art exposed for the world to see. From the words "Straight Edge" crossing his abdomen, the word "Anti-Drug" across his knuckles, or the multiple images that formed the multi-colored "sleeves" on each arm, ranging from weeping brides to an upside down angel. Through his loosened hair, one could make out the dark image of a Japanese demon, or Oni, its tongue extended to present the unavoidable fear it instills. Yes, Ryan was a living, breathing art gallery. Perhaps even more "ink" covered his canvas of a body, but the pair of black jeans he wore concealed any possible legwork. "Through out history, mankind has made it their mission to invent reasons for their downfalls. If you fear the dark, it's because of the boogeyman. You lose a game, and it's because you were tired, or maybe the sun was in your eyes. Man is notorious for coming up with excuses for their failures, but within our excuses, we find words of wisdom which we can reflect in our own lives." Ryan faced the golden sun, which was just setting, leaving a golden grid on the calm waters. The sounds of the ripples extending onto the shore, and then pulling back into the main body of water kept the video in a constant pace, as if the pond was breathing itself. The small waves lapped the bottom of the rock Ryan sat upon, causing a slight discoloration. Ryan reached down between the crevices in the rocks on shore, into the small puddle forming from trapped pond water, and pick out a flattened pebble. He studied the small stone, amazed at the simplicity of this purposeless creation. It was underestimated, it was uncared for.......it was just like him, but there could be only one, as the highlander once said. Ryan took it upon himself to be the superior, casting the stone to a watery grave, skipping it across like the one before it. "My favorite tale of man's personal failure is a segment of the epic poem known as "The Odyssey". This poem, more like a novel or a series, but I'm no literary genius, told the story of Odysseus, at times called Ulysses, the Greek warrior who personally devised the Trojan horse, and his journeys home after the war had ended. He had many wondrous adventures. He was captured by a cyclops, watching his friends being consumed, one by one, by the raging beast. He was brought to the island of the cannibal lotus eaters, but above all, one story remains strong in my mind. It is the story of the Sirens." Ryan removed his sunglasses from his face, placing them on the silver necklace that hung around his neck. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before opening them in association with a powerful exhale. Ryan's cold, gray eyes now made contact with the millions of eyes looking back at him through the electrical currents of television and the internet. "The beautiful Circe warned Odysseus of the Sirens, part-woman, part-bird creatures who's hypnotic song had lured many a sailor to their watery graves, forcing them to wreck upon the rocks, as if they didn't see them through their love for the song. It would be the end of the crew if they did not solve this problem, but Odysseus, he was a cleaver one. Wax placed in the ears of all of his crewmen would prevent them from hearing this haunting melody, and would keep them alive. Unable to cover his own ears, Odysseus had his crew bind him to the sail. As the ship sailed on, the melodies of these unholy creatures took his mind, taking Odysseus' mind, reducing him to insanity, begging for his crew to release him, but they continued. Past the shipwrecks, past the ruined bodies, and past the Sirens themselves. They eventually escaped, and all was well." Ryan looked off into the distance, nodding to the inner-workings of his mind, and smirked, letting a slight chuckle out from his closed lips. "I guess we can attach this myth to modern day CZW, can't we? Brave Odysseus, the genius, the warrior. The legend to which hundreds of other men were compared against, yet none were able to match his majesty He is my opponent for this week, one Cage Stryker. Cage is a true warrior, number one contender for the CZW World Heavyweight Champion, and a former champion in his own right. He's on a roll; win after win after win, victory after victory they keep stacking up. It looks like nothing can, or will stop the highly defined one." Ryan's smirked grew wider, and ever more sadistic. This was the side of him that only could be reached when desperately needed. He ran on competition, victory, blood. These things fueled him, and when the conquest was as prized as it was this week, the taste of a sweet challenge lingered on his lips. "But unlike the hero Odysseus, Cage Stryker has no Circe to tell him of the ill fate awaiting him. He has no means of seeing the pure grip of temptation blinding him, as he sails forward, dumb and clueless to the tragedy that will befall him. Yes, it's sad, but true. Cage, I have nothing against you, in fact, I don't know you. I don't know anything more than your name and your record. I don't need to know, nor do I care, because in reality I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Cage, you will continue through these rough waters, and think that it was all over............but only a true fool would. It’s not Sirens that have been calling you though, is it?" Ryan's eyes reflected the questioning in his mind and his voice. He reached onto his chain, removing his sunglasses, and placing them on the bottom of the bridge of his nose. He placed his right fingertips on the shades, gently pushing them up over his eyes once again. "No, no, it's something more. Just like every other man in this sport, you want that next taste of Gold. The next step onto glory to which you've based your career on. Well, I applaud you on becoming number one contender, honestly I do, but it doesn't matter. You and I, we're exact opposites going into our match on Overdrive. You've packed quite an undefeated streak, and would like to gain momentum onto your title match. I also have an undefeated streak. I haven't been pinned or submitted in singles competition, and have gained the title of one of the hottest rising stars in CZW, past, present, or future. It makes up one hell of a match, but I know for a fact you're not focused. I know you can taste the world title already, and to be honest, I hope you overlook me. Odysseus Stryker, you've already been taken by the sounds of the siren that is the CZW World Heavyweight championship, and it's drawing you in......." Ryan ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head at the sheer ignorance of his opponent for this week. "Past the wrecked ships of many before. Past the decaying remains of those who have been claimed already, from Brian Kirkland and McNally, to Maynard O'Toole and Buck Evans, to Eddie Rowan and the god damn Custodian! You're so close to the title you can see it, it's gold gleaming out in the mid-day sun, it's angelic voice begging you to save it from it's sadistic captor. It seems you've already claimed your prize, but you've forgotten the most important part of this system, the rocks that await you! They've claimed many before, and you will be no different! No different!" Ryan pushed off of the rock he sat upon, walking a few steps onto sturdy, dry land as to avoid falling into the water himself. He faced the camera for a more personal touch to his address. "We both have long lists of names who have crumbled under our strength. We both know how powerful we truly are, but unlike you Cage, I haven't had the recognition I deserve. I am the most overlooked competitor in CZW today, but I'm also the deadliest! We both have a point to make, but my drive, my need to be known, my message to be spread! I need to continue my war path through you and onto the next poor unfortunate soul on the long path to the top of the world. Your status doesn't scare me; in fact, it doesn't effect me in any form. I've defeated champions, I've crippled legends, and after Overdrive I add two more notches to my belt. The first is a bet, but either way, I can call myself the best in CZW today, because if you somehow defeat Alan Fiscus, I'll have beaten you before, that makes me better than you. Secondly, I'm going to add a name to my defeated list that not even you can say you have........" Ryan cackled as he stepped forward toward the camera. He reached behind it, pulling from off-screen his "D.E.A.D." hoody, unzipping it, and placing it over his bare back. He then took a few steps back, enough for the camera to take in his form from the knees up. "Your own, Cage. I'll take your name with a small amount of pride, because it will be one of my more valuable names on my list, which is a compliment in the highest honor. Understand this, though; there is no shame in defeat, my friend, especially against a being so hell bent on perfection such as I am. Cage, I am drug free, I am alcohol free, I am poison free, and in terms of single competition, I am loss free, and I will remain that way until I see fit, because I'm Straight Edge....." Ryan brought his arms up, his muscles tensing as he pressed his forearms together, and created his X in honor of his lifestyle, his movement. The black X's upon the back of his hands seemed to darken even more by the sheer infection of Ryan's brooding heart and soul. His serious face cracked, as his smirk, once again, crawled across his lips. ".....and I'm better than you." These last few words faded, as the camera slowly faded off, catching a last glimpse at the still form of Ryan Shane, then hitting complete emptiness. A quick flash and the CZW logo appeared on the hundreds to thousands of screens around the nation, and the world. These three letters simply materialized in front of us, red barbed wire graphics growing out from the sides of the screen, connecting in X's and such until creating a web of flesh-mutilating steel, among other materials. The graphic exploded in our faces, and now brought us to the next setting of the video. The parking lot outside of the Crown Coliseum was presented in it's glory. It was pitch dark, yet the various lights set up around the lot gave an tinge of orange to the ground, and the light around it. With no event planned for this evening, the spaces on the lot were vacant, aside from a select one or two loiterers. This wasn't the main focus of our attention, however, for the action was about to pick up. From the left-side of our screen, CZW personality Ryan Lewis made his way into the orange spot lights, like a performer onto a stage on Broadway. He adjusted the jacket piece of his two piece gray suit, clearing away any wrinkles and other blemishes from sight. With a look of sheer distortion and confusion, he reached into the small pocket on his chest, pulling from it a folded piece of lined notebook people. He carefully unfolded the sheet. From the wearing on the folds, one could determine that Ryan had viewed this piece at least ten, maybe fifteen times. He looked up; scanning the area for the location his written coordinates were directing him. He placed the piece of paper back into his pocket, and walked of-screen, followed very shortly by a small camera crew, with enough equipment to serve the purpose. The image then dissolved, merging with the oncoming video, and then fading off into obscurity. The next section of the presentation was similar to the first, just another section. We were now presented the loading docks of the Crown Coliseum, placed, as in every other arena in the world, to ship supplies for upcoming events, a necessary installation. On the dock closest to the camera, a large black trailer, as seen on the back of sixteen-wheelers, was docked into place, opened, and connected with the main building for easier unloading. It was painted black, the logo on the side reading the three letters we have all lived by, and will eventually die for, CZW. With focus on the banner to which the entire roster had been bound together by, the camera began to pan down, bringing Ryan Lewis, once again, into frame. He held a microphone in his hand, and shrugged and stretched his shoulders, preparing for his upcoming interview. Bringing the mic to his lips, he began. "Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen and welcome to yet another hard-hitting and gripping interview segment here, for Combat Zone Wrestling. I am, of course, Ryan Lewis, and tonight I'm glad, confused, and somewhat shocked to present to you a man who has made more than just a name for himself in the short few weeks he has been in CZW. Holding and undefeated One on One record, and has defeated CZW greats, ranging from "The Ripper" Bryan McNally to "Rated E for Everyone" Eddie Rowan, to "The OGT" Maynard O'Toole and Buck Evans, and even his friend and ally "The Reaper" Brian Kirkland. Ladies and Gentlemen he is one-half of the Youth Crew and a member of the newly reformed Youthful Aggression faction, in his first interview in CZW, he is "1000 Ways to die" and "The Straight Edge Curse", Ryan Shane." The camera panned to the right slightly, enough to capture another man in its sights. Ryan Shane leaned against the CZW supply trailer, his head lowered. He wore a black skullcap, three gray X's fading into darkness on the front of it, and his pulled-back hair flowing down his back. His "D.E.A.D." hoody was unzipped about two-thirds of the way down, underneath, a new t-shirt was displayed. It seemed very similar to the shirt of the "D.A.R.E." anti-drug campaign, but the letters were replaced with "D.E.A.D.", a caption underneath reading "Destroying a system since 1980". His hands were hidden away into the depths of his pockets, and he seemed to want to be there as much as Ryan Lewis wised to speak to him. "Ryan, I just wanted to thank y-" "Before you continue this pointless waste of my breath and whatever brain cells you have left, I want to set a boundary. To avoid confusion, and any form of association you may have thought of making between us, you will now be referred to as simply Lewis. I am Ryan, I am the greater force in this equation, and I will not be lessened by sharing a name with scum like you." While Ryan's words seemed to speak epic volumes, he said them with the most non-chalante tone in his voice, as if he truly believed that he was a higher being than his fellow CZW employee. Lewis, out of shock, stumbled with his microphone, unable to remember what he had to ask. In a moment, it snapped back to him, and he popped like a cheap bottle rocket on the fourth of July. "O-Ok, anyway, you’ve mad quite the impact in CZW since you've made your successful debut against The Custodian....." "Tell me something I don't know." "......yes, while your actions in the ring have been the main focus of our CZW audience, it's obvious that competition is just a minor note in your self-named "mission". In your many videos that you have sent us to air on our program, you have attempted to expose the world, especially the United States of America as some form of corrupted evil. Do you believe everyone is evil, as you say?" Ryan smirked, another chuckle passing through his maw, as he shook his head in a combination of disbelief and amusement. "Lewis, do I look like a fool to you? Did I present Original Sin to you? Do I handle myself as some fairytale worshipping Catholic Priest or something? No, not everyone on this planet is evil......the majority is. There are few, such as myself, who realize there is more to this world than simply trying to make it look better than it already does. We don't need to escape the harsh reality of how cruel life is, because we can cope with disaster. My anger is aimed at those who give up. Failures, losers. My rage is targeted at the homeless man on the corner, begging for you to give him a dollar so he can, eventually, buy alcohol and dive deeper into his depression, at the dead beat dad who walked out on his family just so he could cover his own ass, taking no responsibility for his mistakes. Those are the damagers, they are the reason other countries hate this one, and why I see America as the perfect battleground for my revolution." Lewis returned the mic back to his position. "Well that certainly gives us....I wouldn't say answers, but an outlook at your opinion, Ryan. Next question, we've recently seen to join the ranks of Brian Kirkland's reincarnated Youthful Aggression, along with fellow newcomer, your tag-team partner, "The Straight Edge Assassin" Knox Harper. What made you associate yourself with Kirkland, and what made you seek his leadership?" Ryan's head snapped up, his face reflecting annoyance, as he glared a hole into the forehead of Ryan Lewis. Lewis wasn't sure what it was, but surely, Ryan had snapped into kill mode with just a few small words. "He's not my leader, understand that! I respect Brian, I'll associate myself with him, but in no way, shape, or form am I under his control! Ryan Shane is the shock trooper of Youth Aggression. When no one else can eliminate and enemy, they send in the big guns. I'm the big guns. The Ace in the hand that is Youthful Aggression. I may not be the "leader", or the tactician or so on and so forth, but I am the deadliest member, and I no regrets in saying that. Now onto my reasons for joining. YA are my brothers in arms. We all see the world for what you truly are, and we are here to help........whether you want the help doesn't matter, because the change is coming soon, and it begins with Beautiful Agony." Lewis returned his mic, his voice now presenting a small bit of concern, surprisingly. "That's all well and good, but let's get to the question, and the match everyone in the wrestling world is talking about. At Overdrive, you face the number one contender for the CZW World Heavyweight Championship, "High-Definition" Cage Stryker. This could be, no, this is the biggest challenge you have faced since arriving in the Combat Zone. What are your thoughts, and do you have some form of strategy set for Overdrive?" Ryan closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. He began to speak, his eyes still closed tight, trying to avoid eye contact with the undeserving leech of the media that stood at his side. "When I first arrived in CZW, I was drawn by many promises that could, and should, scare others away. I was entertained by the thoughts of violence. The scenes of gore. Images of broken glass, thumb tacks, fire, they danced through my head. I live for the death match, and one day, I know it will claim my life. This rush was what brought me to this organization, whose slogan was "Ultra f**kin' Violent". Then I debuted, and after about two weeks, I realized CZW was just Ultra f**kin' Boring! Where were the weapons! Where was the blood! It was like that monkey show up in Connecticut, and I'm not going to take it anymore." Ryan crouched down, pulling up the bottom of his right pant leg, and folding it up around half-way up his shin. He reached down into his black combat boot, scrapping for something. He was a man on a mission, and until the item of his admiration was found, his quest would continue. With a tug, it was revealed to us all. A slight flash and a reflective surface was at first all we saw, but with pride Ryan displayed his gift to the CZW world.....a railroad spike! Ryan rotated the spike in is hand, awe struck by the beauty of this simplistic weapon. "Lewis, this is my strategy! I'm sick of being held back! I'm sick of being caged, pardon the pun. The fans, the roster, the powers that be need to be reminded that this is CZ f**kin' W, and I intend to be the man to do it! Not only for the adrenaline rush I receive, not for the pain, the anguish, the suffering, the blood. I do this to bring a new age to CZW. I want to revive the meaning of the word extreme, and that will begin next week, at the expense of Mr. Stryker." A blood-curdling laugh left Ryan, as he spun the spike between his fingers like a drumstick. "But even more important than reviving the true meaning of combat is the results of victory in this match. You said it Lewis, I've been tearing CZW main eventers and newcomers alike apart with ease, but where's my recognition? Where's my god damn title shot? Where's my picture on the CZW website? I deserve so much more than I've received, and now I've found a way to get what I want. Aside from Alan Fiscus himself, Cage Stryker is the "highest ranking" wrestler in the company. It's like when you are sent to prison, or when you were being bullied in school. You remember those bullies, don't you, Lewis? I bet you do, nasty bastards, and they made you feel worthless. I never thought I'd ever say this, but my Father gave me some advice. He said "Ryan, you walk up to the biggest son of a bitch in there, and you knock him out cold." That would get you a name, and then the bullies would give you the respect that you deserved. That's he best way to explain what this is about. Cage, it's nothing personal man, I think you're a great competitor. I don't respect you, but I respect your ability. That doesn't matter. What matters is that I finally carve my name in the articles of CZW's history, by carving into you. Oh yes, there will be blood......there will be blood." Ryan dropped the mic, the static disrupting as it made contact. Ryan gave one last snarl to Lewis, before walking off-screen. Ryan Lewis looked down at the destroyed microphone, the audio feed from the camera itself still strong enough to capture the necessary sounds. Lewis rubbed his head, trying to figure out how to explain the damaged equipment to his boss, and was caught off-guard by an unexpected sound. A low laugh echoed from above the crew. The camera aimed upward, now catching another figure. This man's head was covered in blonde braids which extended to his shoulders, past his face which was decorated with black face paint in the shape of a cross over his left eye. He wore a black leather jacket, as well as a black t-shirt with a massive skull on the front of it, His legs dangled off the edge of the trailer, seen from beneath the strange, black skirt-like covering he wore on his lower half. Finally, black boots clothed his feet. The man rubbed his nose with his right fist, and shook his head. The camera, now seeing this unidentifiable man, had no other option but to fade away, once again, to a dark black. Edited by xShanex, Feb 14 2010, 04:35 PM.
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12:52 AM Jul 11