Post by Sheamus on Jun 2, 2010 7:34:17 GMT -5
"I will not relent no
Never live with defeat, never falter
It's like the air that I breathe
I will not choke on failure
I have suffered defeat, pain, loss
Still I push to the edge, never falter
For this cements my beliefs
I'll remain my own master"
The segment starts off with a video, a tribute to the rapidly rising Viper, Randy Orton thru Thy WWE. His current victories propelling him to a match on Raw for the WWE title. Current actions having made quite a stir, including an impressive win most recently, in a long drawn out battle with the Celtic Warrior, Sheamus.
After the video has ended, the camera focuses in on a dark room, backstage in some arena. Sheamus is visible, sitting in front of a television, though it is dark, his pale white skin sticks out like a sore thumb. He stares intently at the screen, watching a clip play repeatedly, over and over. His face is not seen, only the back of his head, but one can tell he is seething. If one were to enter the room, they would sense a strong aura of anger.
Much to the delight of the fans, the video Sheamus is watching, is one of him, getting RKO'd repeatedly, a clip from his matchup on Raw with the Viper. The camera pans around, focusing in on the Celtic Warrior's face, his eyebrows narrowed, his visage hard and stern, breathing in slowly thru his nose, and exhaling out thru his mouth. He trembles, not from fear, or sadness, but from rage, his arms twitching, appearing upon the edge of losing control. His emotional and mental state a torrent of chaos, his thoughts scrambled, taking the loss very harshly. He is a proud man, and defeat does not come easily, or is not very readily accepted, by such a character as Sheamus.
His blood boils, adreanaline and anxiety coursing thru his veins, his heart beating fast, sweating profusely, one might offer him an antianxiety, a Xanax or Klonopin perhaps, if they weren't too afraid to approach the large Irishman. But no, here he sits, alone, in the dark, watching something that probably will not help him in any shape or form, but only make things worse. One would think that, but Sheamus is a strange sort, to many, who do not understand him, his ways, or his reasoning.
Sheamus stands, pacing the room, smacking his head a few times, perhaps to clear his mind, or to sate his aggression, one can but only guess. He lets out a primal yell, echoing thru the nearby halls of the arena, and rips the monitor off the table, ripping the cord from the wall, and launches it across the room, where it smacks across the opposite wall with a loud crunch, and shatter, rendering it completely useless. A mess for some staff member to clean up, but that was the last thing on this man's mind.
The Celtic Warrior, sits there for a moment, staring at the floor, contemplating something. He tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and lets out a long breathe. His eyes snap back open, looking directly into the camera, his lips turning up in a devious smile, a glint of mischief behind his eyes, and he stalks out of the room. He continues down the halls of the arena with purpose, and many around him either turn their gazes away, afraid to make eye contact, or scramble out of the way, deciding it wise to keep their distance, save one man. Todd Grisham hurriedly approaches Sheamus, microphone in hand, apparently wanting to be the first to get words from Sheamus following his match with Orton. Ah, the poor fool.
"Sheamus...Sheamus! Can I have a few wor-..."
His sentence is immediately cut off, courtesy of a stiff right hand to his jaw, sending his flying backwards, landing in a heap on the concrete floor, the back of his skull making a sickening thud as it draws contact with the ground, and nearby staff members rush to him and call out for medical personnel. Sheamus continues in his stride, never missing a beat, and a smirk draws upon his mayo-esque features. He makes his way towards the entrance ramp, and pushes past the curtains, his theme song accompanied by his titantron video blaring out over the sound systems, followed by the usual booing, and other displays of hated towards Sheamus.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, the Celtic Warrior....SHEAMUS!!"
Booooooo!!!!!!
He walks down the ramp with his usual arrogant, confident strut, shaking his head as he goes. His swagger does not seem to be diminished in the slightest. If his ego was bruised, due to his loss to Orton, it did not show. He knew he must retain his attitude and demeanor, such is the way of the Warrior, to never show weakness. No, he would not give the audience the pleasure of that, the pleasure of seeing his spirits down, they would enjoy that too much. He would hold his head up high.
He climbs up the steel steps, and enters the ring, raising his arms. Uncharacteristically, he climbs up the turnbuckle as well, standing on the middle ropes, and throwing obscene gestures toward the crowd, which earns him a few cups and other miscellaneous concessions to be thrown at him, causing a couple fans to get escorted from the building, which did not displease him in the slightest. He seemed to enjoy the hatred of the crowd, to know that they despised him so much, it was if it empowered him.
As he stalked towards the ring announcer, she promptly gave up the microphone and high-tailed it out of the ring. She obviously knows whats best for her, and what is in the best interest regarding her health. She didn't want any trouble from this dangerous man.
Sheamus raises the microphone to his mouth, and talks over the noisy audience.
Randy Orton...
"Yeahhh! Yay! RKO RKO RKO RKO!"
Indeed, the RKO....twice. Randy Orton...congratulations on your victory. It was a well fought, epic battle, back and forth, brutal, vicious, and you came out on top. I admit, you bested me...on Raw. Now you see Randy, a Warrior, cannot, does not, win every battle. Defeat, and loss, is a part of life, it is something a Warrior must accept. What matters, is what the Warrior does with that loss. He can either hide, beaten, broken...and never take up arms again, and feel sorry for himself for the loss. He can be timid, and afraid to fight again.
Or...he can learn from the defeat, and come back stronger, improve, progress....and make himself better. I choose the second option. I know what I slipped up on. I made a couple mistakes, and you snatched victory out from under me boots. Well done. However....I can guarantee you, it will not happen again. I look forward to the next time we do battle, the results will be different. I have your number Randy, and it is only a matter of time until we meet again...I know exactly how to defeat you. I know that I can, and I will. So for now, bask in the glory of your victory, go on, win your next match, win the dolbya dolbya eee title, for now. Defend it with honor, with respect, and keep it noice and shiny fer me, fer when I take it from you.
He pauses for a few brief moments, licking his lips, and wiping his face with his hand, and looking out across the way, gazing upon the fans in the arena.
Since we have moved on, and I have maintained my focus, I set my sights upon Mike Knox...the barbarian. He runs amuck, claiming he doesn't not care for winning matches...championships...all he wants to do is hurt people. Typical of a barbarian. You have no focus, no real purpose Knox. The difference between you and I, is the differences between a true Warrior, and a simple barbarian. Yes, simple. All you possess is strength, and bloodlust. I however, am much more than that. Me ancestors kicked barbarian arse time after time again, and I history will repeat itself. The favored son of Ireland, Sheamus, will follow in their footsteps. Sword and axe, tactics, a cool head, will overcome the barbarians ferocity, and chaotic attacks.
You swing your hammer wildly towards me, with abandon, recklessly. What do I do? I parry, and strike, as you have left yourself vulnerable, left a large opening, in which I can slip my sword between your ribs, or into your heart. You are obsessed with hurting people, it gives you enjoyment, but do you enjoy receiving as much as dishing it out? I hope you do, cause thats exactly what you shall get. I am not downed or defeated so easily, I can withstand the force of your onslaught, and bring it right back to ya.
You keep focusing on hurtin' people...you are getting nowhere at all. I have my sights on success, victory, glory, championship gold. I have my motivation set roight, I have goals, which shall be accomplished in the very near future. I will go on to beat you, an' then I'll go on to win the United States championship. How ironic it will be, bringing that title back to Ireland. An Irishman, holding the United States title...it will please me to spit in the face of your wretched country by doing so.
USA! USA! USA!
Dream of your carnage and destruction Knox, for that is the only place you will find it, of your own doing. I will show you the real way to do battle, and I shall move on, progress, and move on to bigger and better things, while you sit there, and wallow in piss and shite, and remain insignificant, nothing, a mere footnote in the history of Thy dolbya dolbya eee. Keep yer eyes on me, and watch my ascent to the top, for the glory of the Celtic people.
The screen fades to black and we head to a commercial break, with the visage of Sheamus smiling, and holding his head high.
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//Leaving this a bit open, feel free to cut in, Mike ^_^
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