Post by Cody on Aug 9, 2010 23:01:40 GMT -5
[OCC: Undertaker previously informed me that he would not be RPing for our match and I respect that. I decided to post this because I had already finished half of it during the week. I cut it short a bit towards the end though knowing I would win by default and decided to just promote the storyline that Mexi and I will be running shortly. Enjoy.]
Hundreds of fans sit in an anxious wait from a long commercial break. While the television viewers watching at home witness ads for those who sponsor the cable network, audience members of the Monday Night Raw crowd watch Thy WWE programming commercials and previews of future DVD releases coming to the market soon. Tributes to the brave soldiers fighting over seas flash onward and pictures of World Wrestling Empire superstars meeting and greeting those fans who no wear the signature US Army uniform. It then turns to black and their ears pick up a new sound that comes roaring out of the loud PA System. The sound of Killswitch Engage opens up to a guitar solo signaling the presence of WWE Champion CM Punk. And sure enough, out from behind the curtains walks the Champ himself, standing on the stage and staring around at all the fans. His long black hair lays down over his face and covers half of his cheeks with his head bent down slightly. His facial hair that was once a faded five o'clock shadow had grown in so that the black hair of his beard are now visible and so is the mustache connecting to it. It rounds and doesn't extend out. His t-shirt, a circle with an x going through it with the words Straight Edge in red go up and down the bars of the x formation. The rest of the t-shirt is as black as his hair, and the classic trunks that he has become known for over the months. The four red stars on the back end of the trunks and a small area of white. And finally the most golden part of his appearance hangs by his fingertips, unsnapped leaning down to the ground. The WWE Championship, shining in the light, a complete representation of Punk's great achievement in Thy WWE that he brings nearly everywhere he goes. A championship that only one other man has been able to wear since it's creation in the sports entertainment promotion. The very same man that is trying to get it back out of the taped wrists of Punk, the Undertaker.
He took even more time than usual to just look around at everyone who sat staring at him, cupping their hands over their mouths and booing as loud as possible. They screamed at him and held up homemade signs with phrases showing their dislike for him. In every direction he was surrounded with hate and that didn't bother him in the least. He had higher goals and achieved much more than them, so he believed. There was no happy smile on his face though, just a look over anger. Finally though, he budged and made a move down the ramp a little bit, a still very slow pace. His tattoo designs ran in motion on the screen behind him for a secondary video while the real entrance video showed highlights on the bigger screen above that. The thousands of LED lights lit up in multiple colors in order to make his entrance a success. Down the ramp he moved, small glowing steps beneath him and fans hanging over guard rails to touch him. His eyes never moved off of the ring where he headed and climbed in. Glances in every direction came as he moved into the center of the squared circle. Officials from behind the desk and handed him a microphone, a small box covering over it with the logo on the WWE. Punk raised it up and slowly began to speak into it with a fluent and sharp voice. It interrupted the noises of the audience and put him above all the other sounds. He began with an echo of his voice ascending all the way up to the nose bleed section of the structure.
"I'd like to just get one thing straight before I begin this, and that is all of you should by now know better than to dare speak during my time on the microphone. Drink down the end of that bottle so you can shut up, I don't care. Just listen up and listen good, because you're all witnesses right now. Witnesses to the greatness that is, Straight Edge in living breathing form."
They only increased in volume and distaste at the words of Punk as he looked around. He didn't expect any better from their idiotic ways, nobody but him apparently had the appropriate manners that he alone possessed. His speech continued, growing only slightly in his tone becoming used to how they would respond to anything he would say.
"Recently there has been plenty of talk about a certain superstar on the roster, not so much of a man so to speak. More of a... Deadman. So the man wins the Royal Rumble which gives him the power to challenge any World Champion from any brand whether he be the WWE Champion from Monday Night Raw, or the World Heavyweight Champion from Smackdown. Whoever he decides to choose, is only up to the Undertaker. But maybe, since nobody else appears to be willing to present them, that I provide the Undertaker with some facts that he should be aware of before he goes around making rash choices out of stupidity. First of all, he may have just forgotten why he isn't the WWE Champion right now. So why isn't the Deadman still holding this gold that has my name on it? Because I took it from him. I attacked him, and do I really even need to repeat this? I come out here and I tell you every week who is calling the shots around here. Not Vince McMahon, not the Undertaker, it's CM Punk. If I've told you once Taker, I've told these people a million times. I took you out of this business and from active competition, and I am more than capable of doing it once more. You think that after so long, that just maybe you would have the common sense to stay out of my path. But after your actions in the main event of SummerSlam, I have to teach you some more. I ended you, I ended you, I ended you, I ended you, and I would be MORE than happy to do it again. You are supposed to be supernatural but from your actions, you're nothing more than these drunks out in the stands. You can't keep one thing in your head for more than a couple of hours."
He flips a few strands of hair from his face and paced around to a different spot with the camera moving with him. He faces the right side of the audience now who only look to be more upset than the other direction. A short chant opposing Punk starts and ends, he puts the microphone back up to his mouth after a minute passed.
"It seems that my possible WrestleMania opponent and my opponent tonight does however have some sort of inner feeling for you. He goes out of his way during these little rants of his to make sure he grabs a round of assault. It's a shame that you're all too blind to see that he is only using you to gain some sort of sick ego boost. Because it looks like even the great Phenom needs praise in order to go home happy. So he believes that I am wrong for verbally attacking your addictions and harmful ways of life. But in the end, I'm the only one being truthful here. I, unlike my competitor, have the balls to come out here and confront you morons for what you're doing to yourselves. He tells you and fills your brains with thoughts that I am no better than you because I have an addiction to power. And that I have become unstable with what seniority this WWE Championship gives me. But tell me, does this Championship cause me to blur my vision and speak to you with a slur? The reality is that while I am the holder of this title, I can still drive a vehicle with ease. So even though your words are so well drawn out and carefully planned, you are not all correct Taker. See, I don't have to swallow my addiction and take my life by my own hands just to get a high. The definition of Straight Edge is to keep the substances away and out of my body. To keep the unhealthy addictions as far away from my precious mind as possible. The last time I checked, power isn't a substance, power is a luxury that I just so happen to flourish in. It is as healthy as the Straight Edge lifestyle, but on the other hand, you're not free of addictions either my counterpart. Believe it or not you idiots, there was a time when you all booed and exalted the Deadman! The Ministry was alive and well, and your thoughts of Taker were no better than your thoughts of me. Phenom, you have an addiction. And that addiction is the response that you need to receive every time that you come out here. An addiction that as you can see, I am immune of. Taker, the thoughts of what others think of you can be just as unhealthy as smoking a cigarette. Because as unearthly as you may be played out to be, the human mind is complex but yet the same. Whether you live on the planet Earth or in this 'layer of darkness' you have similar thoughts as the fatass in the second row. And what will it drain from you if you can't please these idiots every match? A lot more from you than it will from me. You like to play mind games? Well here is a mind game for you instead, Deadman. Maybe the Dark Savior needs to be saved in the end, before your head grows to big from the applause of these sycophants."
Punk suddenly though looked down to the mat below him with suddenly a spark of anger almost. He flipped his head up and looked directly at the stage which in bright white letters read Thy WWE and down at the massive WWE logo illuminated on the stage, and all of the bright LED lights by it. He shook his head and brought the microphone back up.
"But as hard as it may be for me to believe, this company isn't in the shape it's in because of the Undertaker. This promotion isn't in trouble because of you morons no matter how responsible you are for the state of the world. This wrestling company is in this condition because of one man sitting back in his office in Connecticut drinking his whiskey and watching the show right now with a smirk on his face. Vincent Kennedy McMahon, the great leading executive of this company that has nothing better to do than to waste the talent here and to destroy the Drug and Wellness Policy that needs to be enforced! But as long as these assholes run around and make that man money, who gives a damn? You people don't give a damn because you're his source of income. Well now, that is all going to change. Because I was lucky enough to find someone on Smackdown that isn't as pathetic as the brand itself. John Morrison, is the guy that actually makes sense. So from here onward, there is no more of this. That's why we are both forming this stable to divide and conquer both brands."
He shook his head though and walked out of the ring and started to head up the ramp. He reached the top and then paused on the stage before he walked completely through the black curtains to the back. Punk turned around and held the mic up.
"This time, it's just going to be simple 'business' for Vince. We're cleansing the World Wrestling Empire."
Punk dropped the mic and walked through the curtains, nearly out of character it seemed as the screen faded to black.
Hundreds of fans sit in an anxious wait from a long commercial break. While the television viewers watching at home witness ads for those who sponsor the cable network, audience members of the Monday Night Raw crowd watch Thy WWE programming commercials and previews of future DVD releases coming to the market soon. Tributes to the brave soldiers fighting over seas flash onward and pictures of World Wrestling Empire superstars meeting and greeting those fans who no wear the signature US Army uniform. It then turns to black and their ears pick up a new sound that comes roaring out of the loud PA System. The sound of Killswitch Engage opens up to a guitar solo signaling the presence of WWE Champion CM Punk. And sure enough, out from behind the curtains walks the Champ himself, standing on the stage and staring around at all the fans. His long black hair lays down over his face and covers half of his cheeks with his head bent down slightly. His facial hair that was once a faded five o'clock shadow had grown in so that the black hair of his beard are now visible and so is the mustache connecting to it. It rounds and doesn't extend out. His t-shirt, a circle with an x going through it with the words Straight Edge in red go up and down the bars of the x formation. The rest of the t-shirt is as black as his hair, and the classic trunks that he has become known for over the months. The four red stars on the back end of the trunks and a small area of white. And finally the most golden part of his appearance hangs by his fingertips, unsnapped leaning down to the ground. The WWE Championship, shining in the light, a complete representation of Punk's great achievement in Thy WWE that he brings nearly everywhere he goes. A championship that only one other man has been able to wear since it's creation in the sports entertainment promotion. The very same man that is trying to get it back out of the taped wrists of Punk, the Undertaker.
He took even more time than usual to just look around at everyone who sat staring at him, cupping their hands over their mouths and booing as loud as possible. They screamed at him and held up homemade signs with phrases showing their dislike for him. In every direction he was surrounded with hate and that didn't bother him in the least. He had higher goals and achieved much more than them, so he believed. There was no happy smile on his face though, just a look over anger. Finally though, he budged and made a move down the ramp a little bit, a still very slow pace. His tattoo designs ran in motion on the screen behind him for a secondary video while the real entrance video showed highlights on the bigger screen above that. The thousands of LED lights lit up in multiple colors in order to make his entrance a success. Down the ramp he moved, small glowing steps beneath him and fans hanging over guard rails to touch him. His eyes never moved off of the ring where he headed and climbed in. Glances in every direction came as he moved into the center of the squared circle. Officials from behind the desk and handed him a microphone, a small box covering over it with the logo on the WWE. Punk raised it up and slowly began to speak into it with a fluent and sharp voice. It interrupted the noises of the audience and put him above all the other sounds. He began with an echo of his voice ascending all the way up to the nose bleed section of the structure.
"I'd like to just get one thing straight before I begin this, and that is all of you should by now know better than to dare speak during my time on the microphone. Drink down the end of that bottle so you can shut up, I don't care. Just listen up and listen good, because you're all witnesses right now. Witnesses to the greatness that is, Straight Edge in living breathing form."
They only increased in volume and distaste at the words of Punk as he looked around. He didn't expect any better from their idiotic ways, nobody but him apparently had the appropriate manners that he alone possessed. His speech continued, growing only slightly in his tone becoming used to how they would respond to anything he would say.
"Recently there has been plenty of talk about a certain superstar on the roster, not so much of a man so to speak. More of a... Deadman. So the man wins the Royal Rumble which gives him the power to challenge any World Champion from any brand whether he be the WWE Champion from Monday Night Raw, or the World Heavyweight Champion from Smackdown. Whoever he decides to choose, is only up to the Undertaker. But maybe, since nobody else appears to be willing to present them, that I provide the Undertaker with some facts that he should be aware of before he goes around making rash choices out of stupidity. First of all, he may have just forgotten why he isn't the WWE Champion right now. So why isn't the Deadman still holding this gold that has my name on it? Because I took it from him. I attacked him, and do I really even need to repeat this? I come out here and I tell you every week who is calling the shots around here. Not Vince McMahon, not the Undertaker, it's CM Punk. If I've told you once Taker, I've told these people a million times. I took you out of this business and from active competition, and I am more than capable of doing it once more. You think that after so long, that just maybe you would have the common sense to stay out of my path. But after your actions in the main event of SummerSlam, I have to teach you some more. I ended you, I ended you, I ended you, I ended you, and I would be MORE than happy to do it again. You are supposed to be supernatural but from your actions, you're nothing more than these drunks out in the stands. You can't keep one thing in your head for more than a couple of hours."
He flips a few strands of hair from his face and paced around to a different spot with the camera moving with him. He faces the right side of the audience now who only look to be more upset than the other direction. A short chant opposing Punk starts and ends, he puts the microphone back up to his mouth after a minute passed.
"It seems that my possible WrestleMania opponent and my opponent tonight does however have some sort of inner feeling for you. He goes out of his way during these little rants of his to make sure he grabs a round of assault. It's a shame that you're all too blind to see that he is only using you to gain some sort of sick ego boost. Because it looks like even the great Phenom needs praise in order to go home happy. So he believes that I am wrong for verbally attacking your addictions and harmful ways of life. But in the end, I'm the only one being truthful here. I, unlike my competitor, have the balls to come out here and confront you morons for what you're doing to yourselves. He tells you and fills your brains with thoughts that I am no better than you because I have an addiction to power. And that I have become unstable with what seniority this WWE Championship gives me. But tell me, does this Championship cause me to blur my vision and speak to you with a slur? The reality is that while I am the holder of this title, I can still drive a vehicle with ease. So even though your words are so well drawn out and carefully planned, you are not all correct Taker. See, I don't have to swallow my addiction and take my life by my own hands just to get a high. The definition of Straight Edge is to keep the substances away and out of my body. To keep the unhealthy addictions as far away from my precious mind as possible. The last time I checked, power isn't a substance, power is a luxury that I just so happen to flourish in. It is as healthy as the Straight Edge lifestyle, but on the other hand, you're not free of addictions either my counterpart. Believe it or not you idiots, there was a time when you all booed and exalted the Deadman! The Ministry was alive and well, and your thoughts of Taker were no better than your thoughts of me. Phenom, you have an addiction. And that addiction is the response that you need to receive every time that you come out here. An addiction that as you can see, I am immune of. Taker, the thoughts of what others think of you can be just as unhealthy as smoking a cigarette. Because as unearthly as you may be played out to be, the human mind is complex but yet the same. Whether you live on the planet Earth or in this 'layer of darkness' you have similar thoughts as the fatass in the second row. And what will it drain from you if you can't please these idiots every match? A lot more from you than it will from me. You like to play mind games? Well here is a mind game for you instead, Deadman. Maybe the Dark Savior needs to be saved in the end, before your head grows to big from the applause of these sycophants."
Punk suddenly though looked down to the mat below him with suddenly a spark of anger almost. He flipped his head up and looked directly at the stage which in bright white letters read Thy WWE and down at the massive WWE logo illuminated on the stage, and all of the bright LED lights by it. He shook his head and brought the microphone back up.
"But as hard as it may be for me to believe, this company isn't in the shape it's in because of the Undertaker. This promotion isn't in trouble because of you morons no matter how responsible you are for the state of the world. This wrestling company is in this condition because of one man sitting back in his office in Connecticut drinking his whiskey and watching the show right now with a smirk on his face. Vincent Kennedy McMahon, the great leading executive of this company that has nothing better to do than to waste the talent here and to destroy the Drug and Wellness Policy that needs to be enforced! But as long as these assholes run around and make that man money, who gives a damn? You people don't give a damn because you're his source of income. Well now, that is all going to change. Because I was lucky enough to find someone on Smackdown that isn't as pathetic as the brand itself. John Morrison, is the guy that actually makes sense. So from here onward, there is no more of this. That's why we are both forming this stable to divide and conquer both brands."
He shook his head though and walked out of the ring and started to head up the ramp. He reached the top and then paused on the stage before he walked completely through the black curtains to the back. Punk turned around and held the mic up.
"This time, it's just going to be simple 'business' for Vince. We're cleansing the World Wrestling Empire."
Punk dropped the mic and walked through the curtains, nearly out of character it seemed as the screen faded to black.
