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Post by 93 on Jul 20, 2011 17:14:16 GMT -5
Scene 1.
The scene opens with Jonny sat at a kitchen table, a bottle of scotch in front of him and an ash tray to the side. A half smoked cigarette slowly burning into ash lay upon the side of the ash tray. Jonny lifts the bottle of scotch to his lips and taste a gulp, he savors the flavor. Before lowering the bottle and placing it back onto the table. He glances up at the camera and shakes his head. A small smile crossing his lips. He picks up the smoke and takes a drag. The tip glows bright orange for a second before beginning to dim as he breaths in the smoke. He moves the fag from his mouth, takes a small breath in, holding the smoke in his lungs for a second before blowing it out. Emptying his lungs. He flicks the ash off the end of the smoke and places it back in the ash tray. He sits back, lifting a hand to his neck before stretching. His eyes fixed on the camera.
"Well I have to admit, I'm looking rather, weak? Is that the word? Stupid? No. You see what I look like and what I am, are two different things. You may not believe me but all these losses? You really think, that Jonny 'The Rockstar' Freeman would honestly have a losing streak. I have held countless titles, beat so many men. That honestly all this losing, it was planned. It always has been. I get, that maybe you don't believe this, that is good. I know that you, Sheamus, are under estimating me. An old washed up wrestler, who you have beat several times. How I am little more then just another small challenge. That you are the greatest there is. Yet, you are wrong. I thought you were a wise man. Yet I stand corrected. You seem to think you alone, deserve to hold that title. Yet like men before me, I was chucked aside. My retirement was, flawed shall we say. Your greed was what flawed it. Understandable, you believe you are the best and the title should prove that. Yet I feel, that you still fail to grasp something. As big headed as you want to be. As amazing as you think you are. You are nothing. As soon as I prove that to you, I can take back my title and we can end this pathetic idea of yours. You are not the best Sheamus, not while I'm around."
Jonny glances down at his burnt out cigarette. He chuckles before reaching for the scotch and downing a quarter of the bottle. He glances up at the camera. For a second we see fear in his eyes but his faces breaks in an, for lack of a better word; evil smirk. The scene fades out to black.
Scene 2.
The blood ran down his arm. Thick and sticky. Reaching the tips of his fingers and dripping off. He raised the other arm, taking the balde in his other, blood soaked hand. He looked down at his arm and dug it in. He ran it straight across his skin and it parted. He lifted the blade out of his flesh and threw it aside. His blood now sliding down his arm and down into his hand. He looked at both his arms. The cuts were deep and long but some how necessary. His head began to spin and he stumbled out of the bathroom. The blood still dripping slowly off his fingers. He paused before his bedroom door. His eyes half shut and fell forward into it. His blood stained the whiteness of it. Spreading across the door as it fell open. He fell to the floor as it did. For the first time, in so long. He could feel the pain throbbing through out his body. He crawled a few inches toward his bed. The blood leaving a trail against the floor. His eyes now fully closed he smiled slightly. His escape had finally came. He would be here, losing his own blood. All of it poured onto the floor. No one would find him. Not for hours. His only regret being that he could not say goodbye. That he left them with the burden of coming home and finding him. He let out a breath as he slipped into the inky black.
He didn't quite know how long he was gone for. All he knew was when he awoke, he was in bliss. Every pour on his body felt numb, maybe he didn't have a body anymore? He tried to open his eyes but the feeling of heaviness was still lingering upon him. He felt like he could quite happily stay here forever. If he had it his way, he would of. He could could just float off into the distance. Not a care in the world. Nothing to worry about. He opened his eyes extremely slowly. The room was white and clean. People were sat around him but they were not loved ones. These people wouldn't be here. Hell half of them couldn't be there. The beeping device to his right sounded like one of those hospital heart monitors. Wait, Jonny looked around slowly. If he was right in thinking, this was a hospital. Not a normal one however. No walls glowed white like that. Besides stood at the end of his bed was his father. He couldn't be here. Unless, where was he? He tried to sit up but the heavy feeling upon his body kept him down.
His eyes stayed locked on his fathers. He looked exactly the same as when Jonny had wrapped his hands around the bastards neck. He wasn't beaten blue but he was still a blading fat prick. Jonny blinked and then looked around at the crowd. It was full of people he didn't expect to see again. There was the kid Jack who had bullied him all through school. The man who had betrayed Jonny's trust and had an affair with his wife. Raven, his ex tag partner, Robin, the greatest challenge by far in his wrestling career and lastly his father. The group of people who had defined him, the group of people who had become his greatest challenges. Jonny scowled at the all. Where the fuck was he? Was this merely some place in his mind he had slipped into after he had decided to end all the pain. All of a sudden, their voices chimed together in a load echoing chant. The spoke with no delay of each other. Jonny twitched back out of shock. He listened to what they had to say, beginning to question his sanity. They chanted words that make Jonny's skin crawl. He closed his eyes and shook his head. As though water was stuck in his ears. He screamed and as he did so he sat up in his bed. The chanting had stopped. He took a second to open his eyes and as he did so he noticed the darkness of his bedroom. He got up and ran to the bathroom. He turned on the cold tap, cupping his hands under it to catch the water and splashing it over his face. He let out a sigh. He looked up at his reflections. At the demon he had become. He closed his eyes in disgust before turning his back to the mirror. He paused for a second and then went back to bed. Things were starting to mess with his head. He needed this plan to work and if it didn't, they were right. He'd end up broken.
((OOC: Seems the match has a storyline ending I decided to focus mostly on my Rufus roleplay. Plus I'm pretty pissed off and have no sleept so yeah. Sorry))
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Post by Sheamus on Jul 20, 2011 17:25:32 GMT -5
Yet the glowing wick will not be quenched. The sown fire will never die[/b][/i]
Sheamus Journal Entry[/b]
Why do I fight? It has a questioned that has been raised by others on numerous occasions, including myself. I suppose I could give my typical answer. I could say that I was simply born and bred to do battle. I could argue that all of my ancestor's before me fought, as great warriors and leaders, shining bastions of inspiration for thousands of men, women, and children. It is simply in my blood, and my bloodline. There has been a prophecy passed down, generation to generation, amongst my family. While many great warriors existed in this line, there would be one who stood out among all others. The prophecy foretold of a man of the emeralds being born, as the next Cú Chulainn. He was an unstoppable, formidable warrior known throughout the Emerald Isles for his unmatchable prowess and skill in combat. Not only this, but he was a born leader, naturally gifted. Such is the case was me. I knew for a fact, that the prophecy foretold of him, which was why I am now in possession of the mighty sword of Cú Chulainn.
There are many reasons why I fight, but amongst them all, one shines out the most, one that remains the most poignant to me. It is a strong feeling, how compelled I am do to battle, I am simply drawn to it. The fact is, I have come to realize, is that a fire burns deep within my soul, as if embedded there permanently. A fire of such intensity and magnitude, that all of the oceans in the world could not quench this uncontrollable fire. The fire and passion that keeps me going when my body fails and my mind shuts down. Such as a divine warrior that cannot be felled no matter how many injuries are set upon him. Without this battle, I would be incomplete, and unfulfilled. An unhappy, bitter, broken man. I fight because it is within my nature not to stop, not to quit, not to relent until I draw my last gasp of air.
People such as Brian Gunn, Triple H...all the others, Johnny Freeman especially cannot and will not ever understand this. I admire Johnny for his heart, coming against me for a third time in hopes that he may finally gain his title back, but they are vain hopes. There is not a single person alive that contains within their heart the yearning and need to push on, continue, improve, and excel at their craft. This desire, unlike talent and physical attribute, cannot be obtained through hard work. One is simply born with it, or they are not. It is a simple fact, and I know for certain that Johnny Freeman was not born with such. As I've said, I admire his heart and courage, though foolhardy, to try and grab what he desires. I am simply afraid that he is over matched.
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Battle Plans
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"Whether to concentrate or to divide your troops, must be decided by circumstances."
A direct quote from The Art of War, a book Sheamus liked to read often, apart from other books of that particular genre. How Sheamus applied this to wrestling was very simple, as anything in battle he was able to translate into his endeavors inside of the squared circle. To him, it simply meant that he could draw up and scheme the most perfect of battle plans, but all in an instant it could be thrown out of the window. He knew this, and he accepted it, which is why he considered things from many different angles and vantage points. His backup plans generally had backup plans. He knew it was always prudent to have a plan of attack, as a basis to work off of. Such as building up a framework, and just filling in the details as you go.
Sometimes though, everything you plan just happens to fall through the cracks by circumstance, and this was the point where lesser men like Johnny Freeman found their downfall. One must be able to anticipate, and improvise if everything went to hell. Such as a general quickly formulating tactics as his forces break down against the scheduled course of action. This was the reason why Sheamus currently had two wins compared to Freeman's zero over the champion. The majority of wrestlers could not think on their feet as Sheamus, thus explaining his success. He knew how he would come at Johnny, the same as usual, and do things on the fly as the match progressed.
"So it is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you can win a hundred battles without a single loss. If you only know yourself, but not your opponent, you may win or may lose.
If you know neither yourself nor your enemy, you will always endanger yourself."
Sheamus definitely knew who he was, his strengths, weaknesses, and limitations. He also had come to know Johnny, as it pertained to wrestling, very well too. Therefore, Sheamus was confident in a victory over the Rock star. Sheamus felt that Johnny was unsure of himself, and he used the Rock star persona as a cover to hide his weaknesses and insecurities about himself. He also believed that Johnny did not truly know Sheamus, and to be quite truthful hardly did anyone else. Therefore, according to this logic, Johnny would be endangering himself by stepping through those ropes in Madison Square Garden come Attrition.
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Speaking Out
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The scene opens with Thy WWE camera crew inside of Madison Square Garden, yet it is days before the match, and it is an empty arena. So why would they be filming an empty arena? One might think as the cameras panned across the large building, the tens of thousands of seats that would in a matter of days be filled with eager fans anticipating the evening's matches. Soon enough, Sheamus' theme song played over the sound system, his video popping up and playing on the big titan tron screen as well.
Sheamus entered as usual, stepping out onto the stage. He looked around the empty arena, envisioning it as a sold out, maximum capacity crowd, drowning everything out in displeasure towards him. He fed off of the imaginary boos, and smiled. He patted the championship belt strapped around his waist, and made his swaggering way down to the ring. He entered the ring as usual, and customarily beat his chest, before holding the championship high in the air, before slinging it over his shoulder. He picked up a microphone in one of the corners opposite to him.
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Sheamus: As you might have noticed, this arena is empty. So why am I coming out to my music, and speaking on the mic? Well Johnny, this arena represents you, large and imposing, and empty, lacking substance. Or perhaps it represents what will happen after our match up at Attrition, you will be leaving, like this arena, empty handed. Can you feel the tense, electrifying, and exciting atmosphere? I can feel it days away from our match, as two warriors clash steel in this ring. I have this gut feeling, that something big is going to happen. Something extraordinary, something that will shock the world and rock it to its very foundation. Perhaps the beating I will give you will be so brutal, so devastating, that the women and children, and even some of the men, will look away. unable to bear the sight. Perhaps I will slay you once and for all, that you may never compete again. If you lose to me for a third consecutive time, which you will, it will be safe to say it is time to hang up the boots and cut your losses.
To be quite honest fella I'm getting sick of facing you. What left is there to do, that I have not done to you? Perhaps I should write a book and title it "Fifteen ways I've defeated Johnny Freeman". You know as well as I do, that history repeats itself, and it SHOULD be well known and practiced, not to repeat history's mistake. You want to know what your mistake is? That is simply getting in my way, and entering this ring with me. This match will be no different than the last two times. It will end with either a Brogue Kick, a High Cross, or both, followed by a one two three. That will be followed by you staring up at the bright lights through glassy eyes in defeat, as you once again feel the stinging defeat and loss. The bitter disappointment, the emotion of utter failure....is that something you want to experience again?
What makes you think this time will be any different? Lets face the facts, two times I have defeated you, and the third time will indeed not be the charm for you Freeman. Who did you lose to in your last match, need I remind you? That's right, Brian Gunn, a contender in his own right, but a man I have already defeated before. If my victories over you were not proof enough, then by proxy I am superior. No matter how you look at it, no matter how much you stretch things, it does not change this fact.
I am determined to put an end to this thing once and for all. I will do something that nobody would ever expect, not even you. It will change things, so that you will never want to face me again, and will reconsider your outlook on life. This will be a relatively quick and decisive victory. Once again that bell will sound, and once again Sheamus will walk out later in the evening still Thy Dolbya Dolbya Eee Undisputed Champion.
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Sheamus pauses for a moment and sighs
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Sheamus: With swords in their hands...they killed each and every man, who dared to invade their sacred land. Victory songs are raising in the night, telling all of their undying strength and might.....
Johnny, in the days of old, my people fought for land, for their freedom. Now, it is no longer an issue, though I still represent my kin and my ancestors. This ring I am standing in...this is MY ring. This is my sacred land, that I have fought many successful wars and battles, always emerging victorious. This belt here I have around my shoulder, is a part of what I consider mine. This ring, and this belt, are my freedom Johnny. The freedom to be who I truly am, the freedom to walk along this path I tread. These things are rightfully mine, and no unworthy or lesser man will take them from me while I still have an ounce of energy. I will defend these things as I would defend my own family, and homeland. With a ferocity and sheer aggressiveness rivaling the greatest warriors of all time, I will protect and preserve what is mine by birth right.
When I look into your eyes, I see many things. I see fear, I see trepidation. I see more courage within you than your average man, but it is not going to be enough. I see a man too stubborn to admit when he is defeated, a man who will recklessly risk everything to gain nothing, a most fruitless undertaking. I wonder what you see what you look into mine? Perhaps it is a feeling so overwhelming you simply cannot describe it. I see it in all men when they are standing across the ring from me, and when they so tentatively engage me as the bell sounds. I can see the defeat in their eyes so clearly, as they know they have lost before it has truly begun.
The war drums have started to beat, resounding through the hearts of every man in the army. You and yours hear the beats, striking terror into your hearts, as the sound of the drums come closer, beating faster in sync with your thumping hearts, as the impending doom draws closer. You are backed up against a wall, with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, panicking as the enemy comes in sight. Your destruction is foretold by the vultures flying overhead in anticipation of picking at your dead and dying corpses. The end is upon you Johnny. Like any mindless animal that is trapped, you fling yourself forward with rage and fury, denying and protesting your death, but you simply impale yourself on sharp blades. You fall to the ground as you are swarmed, your vision fading to black. The flames of life are engulfed into the darkness, as you finally succumb to the sweet, silent serenity of death.
You have one of two options. Option one, you may surrender, and I may consider sparing you. You live to see another day, and have another chance to make your legacy. Option two, you accept your fate as I slay Johnny Freeman, the man who was nothing more than a transitional champion, a footnote in the history pages of Thy Dolbya Dolbya Eee history. It would be selfish of me to have you compete due to my desire to do battle and prove myself time and time again. However, it is in your best interests to not compete, and preserve and recover your failing body so that you may provide better challenge in the future.
I am sick and tired with the disrespect that is shown towards me. Yet even after I have acknowledged this, you all continue to run your mouths. Don't think I don't listen and pay attention to all of you, bitching and moaning about how I won the title, and that I do not deserve to be champion. If I did not deserve to be champion, I would have lost the title by now, or would have at least lost a single match, neither have happened. I know you all are trying to enrage me into granting you an unwarranted and undeserved title shot, and it is not going to happen. You earn it like everyone else does.
Six months, without a single loss....mystery opponents, main event quality opponents, gauntlet matches...it has all been thrown at me, and yet here I still remain. You resent me for it. Stop lying to yourselves like Johnny here, who thinks he can defeat me. I have a feeling that you hide behind a microphone, but when your name finally comes up to face me....you either do not show up or simply falter and fall to a superior warrior. One day you will come to appreciate and respect the greatest warrior in the world. Even if I have to do something drastic, or simply beat it into your thick skulls. Perhaps the fact that I have been champion for so long is the problem...but the fact of the matter is, I draw people into arenas. People pay good money to see me wrestle.
The reason is that you want to see me have my arse handed to me, and finally see me fall. The other, is that you all are so desperately awaiting the day I fall, if I ever lose the title. If this happens, it will be a historic moment, an event of such monumental proportions, that it will resonate throughout the very annals of history. I am the sole and main reason for this company's longevity and prosperity. Due to my success, and my contributions, I have helped make this company what it is today. Since day one I have been the work house of this company, the back bone. And finally someone decides to give me a chance, the chance I deserve. Lets all face it, when I was gone, this company floundered, and hovered on the brink of destruction. I came back, took the title from the unworthy Johnny Freeman, put the company on my back, and ran with it.
If I were to leave, it would be as if blasting a large hole into a great galleon, the ship would sink to the depths of the oceans, into obscurity, and forgotten. If it were not for I, Sheamus O'Shaunessy, you would not have your beloved program to watch every week. YOU'RE WELCOME! Someday you will understand and appreciate what I have done here. For now the target of my rage and frustrations will be Johnny, who is nothing more than a washed up ingrate. Clinging onto his health, and his career, to squeeze as much money out of it as he can while he is still able to.
These are the facts, spoken by a true and honorable warrior. I do not lie, and I do not embellish about any of this. If you look back into the history of this company, you would see the truth. For now, continue to live in your ignorance, and know that someday you will see the truth. Johnny, everything I said is especially for you, if you feel it does not relate, read between the lines. Your career comes to a screeching halt, as the hand that holds the blade falters, lets mine past your guard, and plunges deep into your heart. The Celtic Warrior will be victorious once more....
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Sheamus drops the microphone, and leaves the arena, as the camera crew shuts off their cameras, and the scene fades to black.
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Final Musings[/b]
Attrition...the word could be described as a reduction or decrease in numbers, size, or strength. It could also be explained as a wearing down or weakening of resistance, especially as a result of continuous pressure or harassment. When it came to war, attrition was a poor choice, used a last resort, to overcome an enemy. Any honorable sort would not resort to such. Simply outlasting an enemy due to better supplies, instead of by pure might and prowess, and pure tactical and strategical brilliance. This is exactly what Sheamus wanted to avoid, yet it seems that his hand would be forced. He was more than capable of outlasting Johnny, yet he would have preferred a more decisive, dominating, and swift victory.
Yet they faced in a last man standing match. The whole concept between it, at Attrition, was to outlast the other man for a ten count, to overcome the pain and physical damage inflicted by your opponent, and make sure they stay down for ten seconds instead of you. Sheamus did not believe he would lose this match. He would pick Freeman apart, piece by piece. He would disable his center core, weakening it, and therefore weakening all areas of attack. He would assault the already weakened limbs, and then he would swing straight for the fences, the skull. He would brogue kick Johnny until his skull fractured if he must. No matter what, he would, as stated, pick him apart methodically, systematically, and without mercy or remorse.
It was battle, and there was no room for such emotions, for such weakness. When it came to life or death, and Sheamus' title to him, was life or death...he will do anything that it takes to win. He will cripple the man so that he could no longer stand if he must. This match's only rule was the ten count, and Sheamus can virtually do anything he wants to Johnny, and he will. Sheamus has endured more than most other men when it came to pain, and he could dish it out just as well. Just like he did against Brian Gunn at Ascension...as he did against "The Fighter" Dominic Reynolds. The key to winning a match like this, all boiled down to two simple things. Cunning, and heart. Cunning to outmaneuver your opponent, and stay just a few steps ahead of him. As for heart...some men eventually could only take so much pain before their body gave out, just as Johnny Freeman has twice before. Attrition will mark the third time that this will happen.
But for the Celtic Warrior, Sheamus O'Shaunessy, his was a heart of steel that did not know how to yield, that did not know the meaning of the word "quit". It was that ever burning flame that raged inside of his soul, he simply could not do it. In an open battlefield, the last man, or the last army standing, was declared the winner, just as the main event of Attrition. The indomitable spirit of Sheamus shall destroy all in his path without bias, letting the gods sort them out. Sheamus O'Shaunessy, the Celtic Warrior, will simply be the last man standing.
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