Post by graves on Aug 29, 2007 12:37:14 GMT -6
The camera fades in on a rather familiar looking lightbulb, swaying slightly in the breeze coming from the open window. The sound of rain pattering the window can be heard quite clearly, and as the camera pans toward it, we can see a small amount of rain collecting on the dirty white floor. It pans again, showing Graves in a metal folding chair. He's shirtless, with his black jeans and black boots. He has a rather cocky grin on his face, and he has a reason for that. He completely slaughtered Meltdown. His slump has ended. Now, he's booked against someone he's already lost against - but this going to win. He looks towards the camera, and lets out a menacing chuckle.
Graves: "Oh, what a joyous occasion. I did exactly what I said I was going to do. I said Meltdown wasn't going to win, and he didn't. I came out completely and utterly unscathed. Meltdown didn't even land a single punch. Just a boot to the face and a Holy Rolling Suicide. Thirty seconds and a comeback was stopped in it's tracks. It even moved me up to #10 in the power rankings. But I don't have time to gloat. Now I have to concentrate on my next opponent. Night. A man with a lot more height, weight, and strength than I. But, as it's been proven, that doesn't matter. I can knock you the f**k out with a boot to the face. You might be a beast, but when you're on your back, you're only twelve inches tall. The bigger the ego, the harder the fall, and it seems you're just about ready for a fall from grace. The last time we met, it was a six-man match, and you happened to win. I also...was the first one eliminated. But it's just you and me, this time. David vs. Goliath part two; where David still wins by knocking the f**k out of his opponent's head. Maybe if I feel so inclined, I'll smash your temple with a brick until you quit breathing. Maybe I'll just kick in your adam's apple, watching you try to inhale until you finally expire."
Graves chuckles a bit, and then sits up straight. He cracks his neck to one side and then to the next. Both sides let out a sickening pop. Next, he rolls his shoulders, which also let out a loud crack. Still smiling, he looks back at the camera, and begins to speak again.
Graves: "Sometimes, people say I'm a little odd. A little strange, a little deranged. I like to think it's just part of my personality. Some spice added to the blandness of life. But alas, this is why I'm generally subject to verbal abuse from moronic imbeciles who don't know my capablities. Those who've never seen what I can actually do. Those who haven't been exposed to the sickness I seem to have. Something I like to call Survival Of The Sickest. Survival Of The Sickest, some people like to think is a disease, or a sickness. But it isn't, really. It's a frame of mind I have. That frame of mind allows me to simply ignore anything that would sicken most everyone who sees it. Blood, bone, gore, dying children - the kinds of things that disturb most people don't phase me in the least. I'm not completely obsessed with them like some people think I am - I just don't mind them. A severed head is about as lovely to me as a beautiful mid-summer's night. A bucketful of blood and a handful of roses are on par with me. The only thing that holds superiority in my mind is the corpse of my opponent letting it's deathblood out onto the mat and staining it a proper shade of crimson. That's your future, Night. Delusions of grandeur fill your mind, making you think you could actually conceivably beat me twice. Megalomaniacal seizures must be pulsing through your god-damned mind, my dimwitted friend. I'll be doing Daye a favor by offing you. Maybe even your family will be glad that you're dead and gone. Another worthless piece of shit thrown in the ground and covered in dirt. Make the smart decision for once, Night. Don't show up, because it won't end well."
Graves stands up, and walks over to the doorway. He turns back, smiling, and flicks the lightswitch off, sending us to blackness.
Graves: "Oh, what a joyous occasion. I did exactly what I said I was going to do. I said Meltdown wasn't going to win, and he didn't. I came out completely and utterly unscathed. Meltdown didn't even land a single punch. Just a boot to the face and a Holy Rolling Suicide. Thirty seconds and a comeback was stopped in it's tracks. It even moved me up to #10 in the power rankings. But I don't have time to gloat. Now I have to concentrate on my next opponent. Night. A man with a lot more height, weight, and strength than I. But, as it's been proven, that doesn't matter. I can knock you the f**k out with a boot to the face. You might be a beast, but when you're on your back, you're only twelve inches tall. The bigger the ego, the harder the fall, and it seems you're just about ready for a fall from grace. The last time we met, it was a six-man match, and you happened to win. I also...was the first one eliminated. But it's just you and me, this time. David vs. Goliath part two; where David still wins by knocking the f**k out of his opponent's head. Maybe if I feel so inclined, I'll smash your temple with a brick until you quit breathing. Maybe I'll just kick in your adam's apple, watching you try to inhale until you finally expire."
Graves chuckles a bit, and then sits up straight. He cracks his neck to one side and then to the next. Both sides let out a sickening pop. Next, he rolls his shoulders, which also let out a loud crack. Still smiling, he looks back at the camera, and begins to speak again.
Graves: "Sometimes, people say I'm a little odd. A little strange, a little deranged. I like to think it's just part of my personality. Some spice added to the blandness of life. But alas, this is why I'm generally subject to verbal abuse from moronic imbeciles who don't know my capablities. Those who've never seen what I can actually do. Those who haven't been exposed to the sickness I seem to have. Something I like to call Survival Of The Sickest. Survival Of The Sickest, some people like to think is a disease, or a sickness. But it isn't, really. It's a frame of mind I have. That frame of mind allows me to simply ignore anything that would sicken most everyone who sees it. Blood, bone, gore, dying children - the kinds of things that disturb most people don't phase me in the least. I'm not completely obsessed with them like some people think I am - I just don't mind them. A severed head is about as lovely to me as a beautiful mid-summer's night. A bucketful of blood and a handful of roses are on par with me. The only thing that holds superiority in my mind is the corpse of my opponent letting it's deathblood out onto the mat and staining it a proper shade of crimson. That's your future, Night. Delusions of grandeur fill your mind, making you think you could actually conceivably beat me twice. Megalomaniacal seizures must be pulsing through your god-damned mind, my dimwitted friend. I'll be doing Daye a favor by offing you. Maybe even your family will be glad that you're dead and gone. Another worthless piece of shit thrown in the ground and covered in dirt. Make the smart decision for once, Night. Don't show up, because it won't end well."
Graves stands up, and walks over to the doorway. He turns back, smiling, and flicks the lightswitch off, sending us to blackness.