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Post by Wade Mason on Dec 1, 2010 2:03:39 GMT -5
[Single Match] Malcolm Bierce Vs. Russell Francis
Limit: 2 Each Maximum Final Deadline:Monday, December 6th at 11:59pm EST Tuesday, December 7th at 11:59pm EST
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Post by malcolmbierce on Dec 5, 2010 13:47:21 GMT -5
“It’s just one little drink. What’s the harm?Two men stood outside an old church that, from the look of things, could have been in any city in America. A small group of people had walked out long ago leaving only the two who spoke now, their breath visible in the cold night air. One of them was quite tall and about half as wide, old blue jeans tucked into a pair of steel-toed work boots, a ratty old flannel coat covering the considerable bulk of his body. A long white beard covered his face, his flat nose red from the cold and his hair, that same pure white as his beard, mostly concealed beneath an old winter hat. The man he spoke to was a few inches shorter at just over six feet and had to look up at the older man to speak to him. A nice gray, double buttoned peacoat kept his torso warm, black dress pants leading down to a pair of perfectly shined Armani dress shoes which were a slightly darker black than the pants. His hair, also black, hung down around his shoulders with a thick beard of matching color. They were quite an odd sight, but clearly the more well-dressed of the two held the older man’s rapt attention. Slightly to the side of the church was a sign, weak lights barely making the words “Addicts Anonymous” visible and, below it “Wednesday 8:00 PM.” A snake had slithered right into the rabbit’s den and picked out the juiciest looking of the bunch to carry away with him. Now the prey was held in a hypnotic gaze as the snake slowly wrapped coils around him with words, squeezing at his already meek willpower until he would feel his lungs crushed, the weight of his addiction taking hold over him once again. He’d been doing so well at these meetings, but the gentlemanly southern drawl of one Malcolm Bierce sounded like that of a lifelong friend, his smile warm and inviting and his words full of logic and, perhaps more importantly to his victim, concern. “I dunno’, mister.”“You don’t know?”A small bit of hesitation, but that wouldn’t stop Mr. Bierce one bit. The older man’s attempt at putting up a wall was weak, and like the big bag wolf, Malcolm huffed, puffed and blew it down. It was effortless for him. At his pressing of the question the older man looked around a bit as though waiting for something, anything, to take him away. He knew he was too weak to resist and was silently praying for someone to come save him. Lord knows he can’t save himself. If he could, would he have been at the meeting? “I mean…I don’t think I should, what with all my DUIs. As it stands I’m not even allowed to drive. I have to wait for my wife to…”“To pick you up?”“Yessir...”The answer was small coming from such a large man, his voice betraying the same shame his face had held throughout the conversation. “All the more reason to have a little sip. You don’t have to drive home, so the roads will be safe. And these meetings are hard on you, aren’t they? Especially after a long day at work. What’s a tiny little drop to relax after such a hard day?”And with that he reached into the peacoat, producing a silver flask that glimmered under the faint streetlights that barely served to keep the darkness at bay. It was a sight that made the old man’s eyes widen just the slightest bit, the tip of his tongue emerging to trail across dry lips before he gulped hard, the demon he had tried so hard to do away with right here, mere inches away from him. The hand holding it extended slowly, and he even went so far as to open the flask before holding it to the man’s mouth, the strong smell of alcohol floating upward into open nostrils. “T-that’s…that’s a nice flask, mister.”“You can have it if you want. Please, friend. Just take a drink and relax.”“You sure this is a good idea?”“Oh, of course. It’s only one flask. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”And with that the man grabbed the silvery container, tipping it upward and consuming the contents at a rate that astounded even the man who had driven him to that urge once again. The surprise didn’t show on his face, and he simply reached over to pat the man on the back before placing his hands in his pockets and walking away. Just as he rounded the corner a pair of headlights came his way, passing by him and stopping in front of the man as he greedily drained the flask. By now he was too far away to hear the words, but the yelling was enough to let him know the old man’s wife was none too pleased with the relapse and, more importantly to Malcolm, that the old man didn’t care. - - - Everybody has a vice. It doesn’t matter who you are. If you are a being of flesh and blood, of functioning body and mind, you have something that makes you weak in the knees. Something that makes you water at the mouth, makes your eyes all teary. Something that you would do anything for. A high you’ll always want to chase even though you haven’t felt it since the first time a needle kissed your vein. An…urge you’ll always need to satisfy, even if it breaks the hearts of your wife and children. Some have more vices than others, but everybody’s got at least one. No matter how strong or pious you think you are, no matter how much you want to deny it, you’ve got one.
And I’m here to tell you it’s OK.
Society tries so hard to force ideals on us. Ideals we know in our hearts we can’t abide. If you sleep around, you’re a slut. If you like to take drugs, you’re an addict. According to who? Other people with different vices. Things that, in their minds, are alright. And the whole time they indulge themselves they point the finger of judgment at others and say that what they do is wrong. We just let them. Why?
Why?
You can’t answer, can you? I don’t expect you to. I don’t know the answer myself, honestly. I can’t claim to be able to see everything. I’m not a psychic. I’m just a man doing what I can to change the world, one person at a time. I’m trying to save us all from that boring, unfulfilling, conservative lifestyle that tries to tell you what you can and can’t do.
In short, I want to save us all.
But please, let me change the subject for a moment. Let’s talk about TGW and the future. Let’s talk about Russell Francis and I. The truth of the matter is I signed my TGW contract knowing full well it was a shaky prospect at best, but in that there is the opportunity to save countless people. Even fifteen minutes on a screen broadcast through the country will give me the platform I need to convince people that they don’t have to do what society tells them to do. Even if only one person listens to my message, be it a kid sitting at home in his living room or one of my fellow roster members, I will consider it time well spent. And even if the bleak future leads to the sad reality of TGW closing, my match with Russell Francis will be more than enough to make every other organization stand up and take notice of me. This is, for me at least, a win-win situation. For Russell Francis, not so much.
My friend, what can I say? I don’t know much about you. I’ve never met or spoken to you, so I won’t presume to have some sort of grasp on the mind behind that wall of muscle. But I do know one thing. The Choronzon Clutch doesn’t care how big you are. It doesn’t care how fast you are.
Even if you ignore everything else I have to say, I want you to listen very closely to this because it could very well be the best piece of advice you ever hear. When you feel all that pressure on your carotid artery, it’ll hurt. It’ll hurt bad. And I won’t lie. It’s going to be scary. You’re going to feel the blood flow cut off when I squeeze. I know you’ll struggle, because they always do. Even when your pulse slows and everything goes black you’ll still have that pride you so desperately want to hold onto. But stop and think about it. What will I do to you if you close your eyes and go limp? If you thought you were at my mercy before, just imagine the fun I can have when you’re completely powerless to stop me.
The way I see it you have two options. You can fight and struggle, wasting precious energy and oxygen, and I can hold on while you fight, weaker and weaker, until you pass out and the bell rings. After that? I’m often a man who lives in the moment, and I can’t promise I’ll let go. You might not wake up for a long, long time after, and by then…who knows? Even having the blood cut off from your brain for a few short minutes can do a lot of damage. I’d hate to have to do that to you though, so you still have a second option on the table. Just reach up with your free arm and start tapping. The bell will ring and I’ll let go, simple as that. No more pain, no more risk of a future with brain damage. It’s over. All you have to do is put away your pride. My Choronzon Clutch is similar to the vices of everyday people. If you fight it, it’ll hurt like Hell. But you if you just give in the pain goes away and you have a life worth living. So please, for your sake, just give up and I promise...I promise...you'll be free.
Trust me.
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Post by Russell Francis on Dec 7, 2010 23:23:28 GMT -5
Where have I been?
Well, I've been doing some soul searching lately! You see, I've lost the NWA Tag Team Championship and everything has gone down the drain after that. I mean, the company that I love, the company that I represent on a daily basis is on the verge of going down one final time and not getting up! I don't like! I don't like the fact that it's possible that we make be living in the final days of TGW! But, Wade wants the company to go on! And I gotta be honest with you, if this company is going down, we're going down swinging!
But folks, there is some pressing issues we gotta address! For one, it looks like the TGW Championship might be going up on the line. It's sad to see Aaron Rupp go, but I guess he's looking for something bigger and my best to him. But now, TGW needs somebody to lead the charge! I've be waiting for this opportunity to become the next big thing here in TGW! I will go up against anyone for the chance to be the champion. I showed that I can win belts in other divisions. Now, it's time for the only CONSTANT in TGW to lead the way and bring True Glory Wrestling back to the top of the mountain.
It starts with Malcolm Bierce, the new guy who feels that he can become a legend here in TGW! But I'm sorry kid, it's my time to reign! You talk about showing up and being there to face you, but kid, I'm ready for anything! If our fight is going to re-energize TGW, let's do this! I'm looking forward to you, but don't let the smooth face fool you! I'm ready to throw down with the best!
You got 2 things to look forward to, one, look forward to attempting to take me down, and, two, look for to falling to the TAG! BELIEVE THAT, SON!
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