Post by T-Robosaurus Rex on Aug 2, 2009 18:59:16 GMT -5
Vinegar: Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome back to Sentinel! It’s been two weeks since we saw the athletes of GIW compete.
Hanson: The GIW Tag Champions kept working house shows.
Vinegar: Brown and Kiseragi took the time off too.
Hanson: I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about the uncrowned ‘true’ GIW Tag Team Champions, Andy Savana and Declan Prescott, who we’ll be lucky enough to see in action later tonight.
Vinegar: Maybe Midnight Oil can end their claims before they’ve even had a chance to prove them.
Hanson: Don’t make me laugh, next thing you’ll suggest Travis Roberts is going to struggle against Moss Edwards and Grace Harding later tonight.
Vinegar: With Tate Levene as his tag partner, it’s highly likely.
Hanson: I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a...
Probot’s “I Am the Warlock” begins to blare through the arena in earnest, interrupting Hanson and as the hard guitars get into their rhythm and the drums begin to hammer the lights drop and silver strobe lights begin to flash throughout the arena. They go on this way for a few moments until the lyrics start at which point the strobes stop.
“I’m going to fuck your life up.
I’m going to crush your soul.
Two demons stand beside me…and now I’m taking control.
I never sleep.
I’ve got a sinister plan.
Your world is weak…
And now I’ve taken command…HAHAHAHA !!!”
As this blasts the phrase “THE MOMENTUM KILLER” flashes across the tron right before a video of Dirge destroying someone with “The Spinebreaker” plays. The video continues to play to multiple scenes of adversaries getting demolished, one after the other until the lyric hits “And now I’ve taken command”, followed by the evil laugh happens. At that moment the GIW tron video shows Dirge standing atop a ladder with a gigantic satisfied smile on his face, holding an enormous, gold Championship belt over his head as people boo furiously and throw trash into the ring.
As the chorus plays two gigantic spotlights shine onto the stage as Dirge comes strutting out onto it with two gigantic Championship belts adorning him, one per shoulder, and an arrogant smile on his face. He stops at the head of the ramp and slowly raises his arms and as he does so the spotlights dim. Finally he thrusts his arms out and two gigantic shots of pyrotechnics explode on opposite sides of the stage. He laughs loudly at the crowd reaction and that of his adversary or adversaries before lowering his arms and beginning his walk to the ring. As he gets three steps down "The Russian Destruction Machine" Erik Drugonov comes walking out of the back, dark sunglasses over his eyes and his dangerous form adorned by a dark and expensive suit. He follows Dirge at a short distance, keeping an eye out for trouble as the man he's sworn to protect walks to the ring, doing everything in his power to torment and incite the fans to the greatest degree of anger possible.
He gets to the ring and stops at the apron while waiting for Erik, who walks up to him and stops. After a few seconds Erik walks to the stairs, walks up them and enters the ring. He walks into the ring and waits for Dirge to enter. Dirge watches this with a smile before walking over to the stairs and looking up into the ring. He does this for a few moments before holding his two Championship belts over his head for all to see and smirking obnoxiously before slowly walks up the steps. Once he gets to the top he stops and and disdainfully looks out across the arena, soaking in the booing of the very angry fans. He grins and laughs at the overall response as his incredibly long entrance starts to really piss people off. After a few moments of enjoying their ire, he steps over the top rope and strolls into center ring, where he raises both Championships over head as more pyro explodes over the ring behind him. He stands in the middle of it with a huge and obnoxious smile on his face as the pyro blasts. Once it ends he lowers the Championships and walks over to the far corner, where he ascends the ropes and holds the Championships overhead yet again, further inciting the fans to greater aggravation. He stands and soaks it in for a few moments before stepping down and walking back to center ring, where he raises them once more before handing them off to Erik, who backs up a couple of steps and stands silently with them over his shoulders. Dirge reaches into his jacket and pulls out a microphone as an annoyed scowl crosses his face.
Dirge: Chalk one up for the Rainbow Coalition !
The remark draws an instantaneous irate and rather thunderous boo from the fans, a reaction that draws an amused smirk from him. He waits for a moment before holding his hand up with one finger out as if to say “you ain’t heard nothing yet”, his facial expression is his well known and much hated smirk.
Dirge: I had a feeling that we’d see something “special”, and I mean that in quotations, when my driver dropped me off at the arena on Sunday for “Toxic Intent” and I saw the rainbow colored short bus parked outside with a vanity plate that said “Brown Dragon” on it. I thought after the show that the living dead were walking the Earth because of the weird, monotonous and confused droning moan that I was hearing… but instead it was just a parade of the mentally retarded partying in the streets because their new heroes had been mistakenly crowned World Tag Team Champions.
The fans let loose a thunderous cheer at the mention of Brandon Brown and Alex Kiseragi’s Pay Per View victory. Dirge responds by rolling his eyes at them before raising the mic again. His tone is less than surprised, bordering on bored.
Dirge: You would cheer that. You’re just as much a walking example that the gene pool needs a good strong chlorination as Brandon Brown and Alexander Kiseragi are. While I’m at it I should also add GIW Management to that list as well. It seems you’re all just one big, happy and extremely retarded family. I would refer to you all by the more wordy nomenclature of “mentally disadvantaged”, but it seems as if my penchant for an intelligent application of the English language just serves to send the lot of you into massive self soaking drooling spells.
The fans begin with alternating chants of “asshole” and “whiner” as Dirge pauses between statements. He lowers the mic a little and smiles at the reaction before raising his hands and waiving them in a “bring it on” gesture.
Dirge: Yes, call me a “whiner” or an “asshole”. Please, do continue. It means that I’m getting to the lot of you. It does amuse me how one of those “crowd favorites”, those nauseating pussies who spend their entire dignity starved careers pandering to you cross eyed, slack jawed, walking polluted sperm pools… can come out here and cry for an hour about something he or she considers to be “unjust” and you cheer them until your hideously deformed faces slide off and land on the filth laden floor with a splat.
Again the fans greet this with very loud and enthusiastic booing. A few of them go so far as to throw items at the ring, although none of them get anywhere near close. Dirge looks over his shoulder at Erik, who just shrugs indifferently at the reaction. Dirge chuckles at his reaction before turning back to the crowd and raising the microphone again.
Dirge: Conversely, if one such as I should come out here and raise an issue of distaste towards something you shambling guano piles automatically refer to me as “whiner” or an “asshole” or something equally cliché in yet another in a long and tired line of pathetic attempts to perturb me. One would think that it’d have occurred to the entire steaming lot of you by now that I enjoy being hated by you and that I’d come out here and tell you that I skull fucked your mother if I felt it would get the desired reaction. You see folks; I can be urbane and offensive too…just like your average, repulsively ordinary and utterly bland villain.
He pauses again and feigns a yawn before continuing. Behind him Erik actually smirks a little.
Dirge: I choose to carry and acquit myself differently than that precisely because I am in no way ordinary, urbane, bland or average. There are three men and one woman in that locker room who are worthy of being called “friends” and “team mates” of mine. The jury is out on a couple more of them at the moment. The rest of that menagerie of misfits are just the cast off results of misconceived spawning sessions that regrettably did not result in the creation of new Hudson River Trout.
He makes the gesture of casting out a fishing line and reeling something in before pulling something off of the line which he wrinkles up his nose at in disgust before throwing it into the crowd. Both he and Erik share a laugh as the fans boo him heartily.
Dirge: It really makes a guy wonder just how intellectually stunted a promotion is when the Management and the wider portion of the fan base want to see their Tag Team Championships adorning the waists of two gigantic biological accidents like Brown and Kiseragi. I realize that some of it comes from the “sympathy fuck” approach to appreciating wrestling. After all, Alex Kiseragi has been the continual bitch of the GIW roster for a very long time now. Putting a Championship on him means that someone in Management thought it would be good for his fragile self esteem if they loped his mule a little bit. It makes you wonder just who he gave the rim job to in order to get this push he’s all of a sudden getting.
He smirks at the joke before making an exaggerated gesture of clearing his throat.
Dirge: Some people will do anything to get in the good graces of Management…apparently Kiseragi is one of them.
He pauses again and kicks a few more articles of trash out of the ring and continues.
Dirge: It’s bad enough that the sodomizing pedophile is allowed to drag an under-aged child around the country with him while he pretends to train her to wrestle. What’s more insulting is that this company somehow finds him and Brandon Brown, the man whose more cliché than a nineteen fifties television show…and nowhere near as entertaining…
He pauses for a moment as a rare flash of genuine anger comes across his face. It disappears as quickly as it had appeared, but it is noticeable none the less. After a few more moments he looks out across the packed arena and continues as if it had never happened. This time though his voice is dripping with disgust and condescension.
Dirge: Seriously, it’s not that I care whether you asshole fans, this company’s brain dead management or every inbred, sister drilling, dog blowing, drug addict chump in the locker room gets or appreciates me…but for any of you to think that Brandon Brown or Alex Kiseragi, a man who is far less entertaining than watching paint dry and not nearly as useful in the long term…for anyone to think that those two are more worthwhile Wrestling talents than I am in any way, shape or manner is truly insulting. The entire lot of you must have nothing more than an active black hole between your ears.
Erik smirks at the statement and a few fans actually cheer it, only to be drowned out by far more enthusiastic boos and catcalls. Dirge shakes his head before continuing.
Dirge: I always knew that I was vastly more intelligent than the entire lot of you, but I never even conceived in my least lucid moments that it was anywhere near this bad. It’s a pandemic of institutional stupidity such as has never been seen in the entire history of this industry. Your parents must have fed you paint chips as children and taught you how to bathe by holding you underwater until you started to thrash. It’s too bad they didn’t finish the job and actually drown the lot of you.
This comment draws a truly hate filled reaction from those in attendance and a few of them try and charge the ring, only to be restrained by ringside security. Dirge watches the unfolding chaos with great amusement and raises the mic with an evil and snide grin on his face.
Dirge: Doing that could have been seen as an act of mercy in the context of current events.
More infuriated booing is his answer to the statement.
Dirge: Incidentally, it wouldn’t have been merciful to any of you…because quite frankly, who gives a damn about showing any of you mercy…no, it would have been merciful to the rest of us, such as me, who have to tolerate all of you so often. Drowning would have been deserved for all of you…
He pauses for a moment to smirk, presumably at the mental image of 20,000 drowning wrestling fans, as well as Alex Kiseragi and Brandon Brown. After a few moments of obvious thorough enjoyment at whatever he was thinking of he lifts the microphone again.
Dirge: The misguided sperm donors who spawned Brown and Kiseragi as their progeny should have smothered those two at the very least.
This statement not only draws furious booing, but also a few thrown items…which Dirge notes with satisfaction before kicking them from the ring.
Dirge: Personally, if they were my children I’d have brained them with a ball pine hammer.
He makes a swinging motion with his left arm, as if he’s striking something as hard as he can. Once again the thought of braining one or both of the new Tag Team Champions seems to bring him great joy.
Dirge: So with all of that said…Brown, Kiseragi….you two may consider this a “victory” over us. Enjoy your self promoting, back slapping love ins over it while you have the chance. There is one gigantic flaw in the line of belief that this is truly a victory though…
Dirge: In order for it to truly be considered a victory it has to be sustained for a while.
He smiles evilly at the statement before continuing, his tone cold and evil.
Dirge: Personally, I don’t think this reign has the legs.
Dirge: See you soon. Just remember what happened to the twin crispy critters of gIw and, if you’ll pardon the pun… “burn” it into your minds.
With that final remark Dirge grins his total prick grin, drops the mic onto the mat and departs the ring as the fans boo him furiously and “The One You Love to Hate” blares over the speakers.
Vinegar: Well ladies and gentlemen, the impromptu ramblings of Dirge mean we have to go to a commercial break.
Hanson: He made some good points though...
Vinegar: You would think that...
Hanson: The GIW Tag Champions kept working house shows.
Vinegar: Brown and Kiseragi took the time off too.
Hanson: I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about the uncrowned ‘true’ GIW Tag Team Champions, Andy Savana and Declan Prescott, who we’ll be lucky enough to see in action later tonight.
Vinegar: Maybe Midnight Oil can end their claims before they’ve even had a chance to prove them.
Hanson: Don’t make me laugh, next thing you’ll suggest Travis Roberts is going to struggle against Moss Edwards and Grace Harding later tonight.
Vinegar: With Tate Levene as his tag partner, it’s highly likely.
Hanson: I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a...
Probot’s “I Am the Warlock” begins to blare through the arena in earnest, interrupting Hanson and as the hard guitars get into their rhythm and the drums begin to hammer the lights drop and silver strobe lights begin to flash throughout the arena. They go on this way for a few moments until the lyrics start at which point the strobes stop.
“I’m going to fuck your life up.
I’m going to crush your soul.
Two demons stand beside me…and now I’m taking control.
I never sleep.
I’ve got a sinister plan.
Your world is weak…
And now I’ve taken command…HAHAHAHA !!!”
As this blasts the phrase “THE MOMENTUM KILLER” flashes across the tron right before a video of Dirge destroying someone with “The Spinebreaker” plays. The video continues to play to multiple scenes of adversaries getting demolished, one after the other until the lyric hits “And now I’ve taken command”, followed by the evil laugh happens. At that moment the GIW tron video shows Dirge standing atop a ladder with a gigantic satisfied smile on his face, holding an enormous, gold Championship belt over his head as people boo furiously and throw trash into the ring.
As the chorus plays two gigantic spotlights shine onto the stage as Dirge comes strutting out onto it with two gigantic Championship belts adorning him, one per shoulder, and an arrogant smile on his face. He stops at the head of the ramp and slowly raises his arms and as he does so the spotlights dim. Finally he thrusts his arms out and two gigantic shots of pyrotechnics explode on opposite sides of the stage. He laughs loudly at the crowd reaction and that of his adversary or adversaries before lowering his arms and beginning his walk to the ring. As he gets three steps down "The Russian Destruction Machine" Erik Drugonov comes walking out of the back, dark sunglasses over his eyes and his dangerous form adorned by a dark and expensive suit. He follows Dirge at a short distance, keeping an eye out for trouble as the man he's sworn to protect walks to the ring, doing everything in his power to torment and incite the fans to the greatest degree of anger possible.
He gets to the ring and stops at the apron while waiting for Erik, who walks up to him and stops. After a few seconds Erik walks to the stairs, walks up them and enters the ring. He walks into the ring and waits for Dirge to enter. Dirge watches this with a smile before walking over to the stairs and looking up into the ring. He does this for a few moments before holding his two Championship belts over his head for all to see and smirking obnoxiously before slowly walks up the steps. Once he gets to the top he stops and and disdainfully looks out across the arena, soaking in the booing of the very angry fans. He grins and laughs at the overall response as his incredibly long entrance starts to really piss people off. After a few moments of enjoying their ire, he steps over the top rope and strolls into center ring, where he raises both Championships over head as more pyro explodes over the ring behind him. He stands in the middle of it with a huge and obnoxious smile on his face as the pyro blasts. Once it ends he lowers the Championships and walks over to the far corner, where he ascends the ropes and holds the Championships overhead yet again, further inciting the fans to greater aggravation. He stands and soaks it in for a few moments before stepping down and walking back to center ring, where he raises them once more before handing them off to Erik, who backs up a couple of steps and stands silently with them over his shoulders. Dirge reaches into his jacket and pulls out a microphone as an annoyed scowl crosses his face.
Dirge: Chalk one up for the Rainbow Coalition !
The remark draws an instantaneous irate and rather thunderous boo from the fans, a reaction that draws an amused smirk from him. He waits for a moment before holding his hand up with one finger out as if to say “you ain’t heard nothing yet”, his facial expression is his well known and much hated smirk.
Dirge: I had a feeling that we’d see something “special”, and I mean that in quotations, when my driver dropped me off at the arena on Sunday for “Toxic Intent” and I saw the rainbow colored short bus parked outside with a vanity plate that said “Brown Dragon” on it. I thought after the show that the living dead were walking the Earth because of the weird, monotonous and confused droning moan that I was hearing… but instead it was just a parade of the mentally retarded partying in the streets because their new heroes had been mistakenly crowned World Tag Team Champions.
The fans let loose a thunderous cheer at the mention of Brandon Brown and Alex Kiseragi’s Pay Per View victory. Dirge responds by rolling his eyes at them before raising the mic again. His tone is less than surprised, bordering on bored.
Dirge: You would cheer that. You’re just as much a walking example that the gene pool needs a good strong chlorination as Brandon Brown and Alexander Kiseragi are. While I’m at it I should also add GIW Management to that list as well. It seems you’re all just one big, happy and extremely retarded family. I would refer to you all by the more wordy nomenclature of “mentally disadvantaged”, but it seems as if my penchant for an intelligent application of the English language just serves to send the lot of you into massive self soaking drooling spells.
The fans begin with alternating chants of “asshole” and “whiner” as Dirge pauses between statements. He lowers the mic a little and smiles at the reaction before raising his hands and waiving them in a “bring it on” gesture.
Dirge: Yes, call me a “whiner” or an “asshole”. Please, do continue. It means that I’m getting to the lot of you. It does amuse me how one of those “crowd favorites”, those nauseating pussies who spend their entire dignity starved careers pandering to you cross eyed, slack jawed, walking polluted sperm pools… can come out here and cry for an hour about something he or she considers to be “unjust” and you cheer them until your hideously deformed faces slide off and land on the filth laden floor with a splat.
Again the fans greet this with very loud and enthusiastic booing. A few of them go so far as to throw items at the ring, although none of them get anywhere near close. Dirge looks over his shoulder at Erik, who just shrugs indifferently at the reaction. Dirge chuckles at his reaction before turning back to the crowd and raising the microphone again.
Dirge: Conversely, if one such as I should come out here and raise an issue of distaste towards something you shambling guano piles automatically refer to me as “whiner” or an “asshole” or something equally cliché in yet another in a long and tired line of pathetic attempts to perturb me. One would think that it’d have occurred to the entire steaming lot of you by now that I enjoy being hated by you and that I’d come out here and tell you that I skull fucked your mother if I felt it would get the desired reaction. You see folks; I can be urbane and offensive too…just like your average, repulsively ordinary and utterly bland villain.
He pauses again and feigns a yawn before continuing. Behind him Erik actually smirks a little.
Dirge: I choose to carry and acquit myself differently than that precisely because I am in no way ordinary, urbane, bland or average. There are three men and one woman in that locker room who are worthy of being called “friends” and “team mates” of mine. The jury is out on a couple more of them at the moment. The rest of that menagerie of misfits are just the cast off results of misconceived spawning sessions that regrettably did not result in the creation of new Hudson River Trout.
He makes the gesture of casting out a fishing line and reeling something in before pulling something off of the line which he wrinkles up his nose at in disgust before throwing it into the crowd. Both he and Erik share a laugh as the fans boo him heartily.
Dirge: It really makes a guy wonder just how intellectually stunted a promotion is when the Management and the wider portion of the fan base want to see their Tag Team Championships adorning the waists of two gigantic biological accidents like Brown and Kiseragi. I realize that some of it comes from the “sympathy fuck” approach to appreciating wrestling. After all, Alex Kiseragi has been the continual bitch of the GIW roster for a very long time now. Putting a Championship on him means that someone in Management thought it would be good for his fragile self esteem if they loped his mule a little bit. It makes you wonder just who he gave the rim job to in order to get this push he’s all of a sudden getting.
He smirks at the joke before making an exaggerated gesture of clearing his throat.
Dirge: Some people will do anything to get in the good graces of Management…apparently Kiseragi is one of them.
He pauses again and kicks a few more articles of trash out of the ring and continues.
Dirge: It’s bad enough that the sodomizing pedophile is allowed to drag an under-aged child around the country with him while he pretends to train her to wrestle. What’s more insulting is that this company somehow finds him and Brandon Brown, the man whose more cliché than a nineteen fifties television show…and nowhere near as entertaining…
He pauses for a moment as a rare flash of genuine anger comes across his face. It disappears as quickly as it had appeared, but it is noticeable none the less. After a few more moments he looks out across the packed arena and continues as if it had never happened. This time though his voice is dripping with disgust and condescension.
Dirge: Seriously, it’s not that I care whether you asshole fans, this company’s brain dead management or every inbred, sister drilling, dog blowing, drug addict chump in the locker room gets or appreciates me…but for any of you to think that Brandon Brown or Alex Kiseragi, a man who is far less entertaining than watching paint dry and not nearly as useful in the long term…for anyone to think that those two are more worthwhile Wrestling talents than I am in any way, shape or manner is truly insulting. The entire lot of you must have nothing more than an active black hole between your ears.
Erik smirks at the statement and a few fans actually cheer it, only to be drowned out by far more enthusiastic boos and catcalls. Dirge shakes his head before continuing.
Dirge: I always knew that I was vastly more intelligent than the entire lot of you, but I never even conceived in my least lucid moments that it was anywhere near this bad. It’s a pandemic of institutional stupidity such as has never been seen in the entire history of this industry. Your parents must have fed you paint chips as children and taught you how to bathe by holding you underwater until you started to thrash. It’s too bad they didn’t finish the job and actually drown the lot of you.
This comment draws a truly hate filled reaction from those in attendance and a few of them try and charge the ring, only to be restrained by ringside security. Dirge watches the unfolding chaos with great amusement and raises the mic with an evil and snide grin on his face.
Dirge: Doing that could have been seen as an act of mercy in the context of current events.
More infuriated booing is his answer to the statement.
Dirge: Incidentally, it wouldn’t have been merciful to any of you…because quite frankly, who gives a damn about showing any of you mercy…no, it would have been merciful to the rest of us, such as me, who have to tolerate all of you so often. Drowning would have been deserved for all of you…
He pauses for a moment to smirk, presumably at the mental image of 20,000 drowning wrestling fans, as well as Alex Kiseragi and Brandon Brown. After a few moments of obvious thorough enjoyment at whatever he was thinking of he lifts the microphone again.
Dirge: The misguided sperm donors who spawned Brown and Kiseragi as their progeny should have smothered those two at the very least.
This statement not only draws furious booing, but also a few thrown items…which Dirge notes with satisfaction before kicking them from the ring.
Dirge: Personally, if they were my children I’d have brained them with a ball pine hammer.
He makes a swinging motion with his left arm, as if he’s striking something as hard as he can. Once again the thought of braining one or both of the new Tag Team Champions seems to bring him great joy.
Dirge: So with all of that said…Brown, Kiseragi….you two may consider this a “victory” over us. Enjoy your self promoting, back slapping love ins over it while you have the chance. There is one gigantic flaw in the line of belief that this is truly a victory though…
Dirge: In order for it to truly be considered a victory it has to be sustained for a while.
He smiles evilly at the statement before continuing, his tone cold and evil.
Dirge: Personally, I don’t think this reign has the legs.
Dirge: See you soon. Just remember what happened to the twin crispy critters of gIw and, if you’ll pardon the pun… “burn” it into your minds.
With that final remark Dirge grins his total prick grin, drops the mic onto the mat and departs the ring as the fans boo him furiously and “The One You Love to Hate” blares over the speakers.
Vinegar: Well ladies and gentlemen, the impromptu ramblings of Dirge mean we have to go to a commercial break.
Hanson: He made some good points though...
Vinegar: You would think that...