Post by John Anthony on Jul 26, 2007 23:11:55 GMT -6
DVD Taping Role Play #4
/*\ Against the Wall --- Part Four /*\
Nothing but a sliding glass door stood between a bruised John Anthony and the press that awaited him. They were as bloodthirsty as the underground cartel’s audience it seemed. Luckily John wouldn’t have to fight any of them, at least not physically. He took a step forward and the door’s sensors activated, causing them to slide open. John stepped into the afternoon sun and was met by an assault of cameras, microphones, and reporters spewing questions at a thousand words per second. He held up his hands and tried to push his way forward some, at least out of the way of the hospital entrance. The reporters continued shooting questions like their mouths were automatic machine guns firing bullets of curiosity. John continued his three second pose that consisted of him holding two hands in the air, keeping his mouth shut, and walking forward. Eventually, he got as far as he could go before he was literally surrounded.
John:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you all no doubt have plenty of questions for me.”
That very sentence opened up a re-invigorated storm of who’s, what’s, when’s, and where’s. John sighed and almost removed his shades, but remembered the black eye that they so cleverly concealed. Instead he cleared his throat to try and quiet the crowd before continuing.
John:
“Now instead of wasting my entire day here fielding questions one by one, let me instead grant you with a makeshift speech of sorts. An unscripted interview between myself, and myself. So turn your cameras this way, point your microphones forward, and close your eager lips for the time being, because here is where we stand.
After my sweeping victory over POW: North East newcomer Dr. Phate, I figured there would be no better way to celebrate then to take my colleagues out to one of the greatest nightclubs in Trenton, Club Zango’s. This simple act led to an extremely sinister plot however, one that seems to be stolen directly from the pages from a fiction novel. A New York Times Best Selling fiction novel of course, but you get the idea. Julia, Daniel, and myself found ourselves knocked unconscious and held captive by the sinister Katherine Zango in her underground fighting cartel. Against my wishes I was forced to fight against a three hundred and fifty pound man by the name of Brine. I refused, but the health and well-being of my friends was put on the line and my options dwindled quickly. Bare-knuckle fighting, especially of the illegal underground type, is something I’ve never endorsed in any way, but somehow found myself a part of. Fighting for my own safety and that of my friends, I found myself on the receiving end of a brutal ass kicking. Luckily for me, my fans, and quite frankly everyone involved, I managed to dig into some hidden reserve that allowed me to incapacitate Brine long enough to escape.
Brine had other motives however and lashed out against Katherine Zango, attacking her right in front of her father, the guards, and the audience that all need to check their own morals and re-evaluate themselves. Panic ensued, but my two partners and I found our way out of the arena and into the streets outside of the Trenton Library. Authorities arrived on scene and I was brought to this very hospital merely as a precautionary measure. I was not injured in any way, shape, or form and these stitches on my jaw are actually from an unfortunate accident involving a shower and a bar of soap.
Anyway, after being checked out this morning, I was cleared to leave but opted to stay in the confines of the hospital for a little longer. It served as a mental sanctuary of sorts, a chance for me to collect myself and consider my match this weekend, and that is what I would like to turn our attention towards. You see this Sunday I will be partaking in another battle, although this one will be on the legal side of the law. Surprising, considering it will take place in conditions as inhumane as my debacle with Brine. Yes, being surrounded by four walls of steel caging is enough to bring out the animalistic and raw instincts of any man, something that I’m sure both JR Zevon and myself will attempt to harness during our match for the coveted Eastern Heavyweight Championship. But I assure you of two things. First, I am in perfect fighting condition despite recent events and will be prepared mentally and physically to square off in a rematch with JR Zevon this Sunday at Ocean City Slam. Second, I will be leaving that night the same way I enter; as your Eastern Heavyweight Champion.
There’s really no need for me to waste my breath on hype duty for this match, because a mere look at our past encounters will do plenty of justice. JR Zevon and I have quite a track record stemming back quite some ways. Whether it is in one versus one encounters, triple threats with special guest referees, him paying off managers to have their clients assault me, or tag team battles, we’ve been at each other’s throats for quite a while now. Don’t get me wrong, I respect JR Zevon’s minimalistic talent in the ring, but the dime stops there. His tactics, attitude, slave woman, and mental state are all left to question. POW: North East spoke their mind at Red, White, and Bruised by cheering who they felt deserved to win the title that night, and their voices were heard. I have since been slandered for winning in such a quick and uninspiring method, but your voices were heard once again, this time by our general manager Tony Hunter. By booking this cage match; Tony Hunter has assured the fans the fight they’ve been looking for. He has given JR Zevon his chance at a rematch, he has given me a chance to thrill the audience and defend my newly obtained gold, and he has given POW: North East a match that has the potential to go down in the history books. After this Sunday, I want the very term “cage match” to bring back memories of JR Zevon versus John Anthony, and that isn’t a far-fetched ideal.
Now, I’ve never participated in a cage match during my career as a professional wrestler, or even trained for such. It is going to be new territory for me and simply watching videos of past cage matches hardly does this type of scenario justice. Once that cage is lowered and the door is shut, I can’t anticipate the feelings that will be going through me. Not just because my title is on the line, not just because I’ll be standing across from my acclaimed rival, but also because neither man nor animal enjoys the feeling of being caged up. This week I’ve experienced the feeling of being backed into a corner more than once, and the same could describe the situation I will find myself in this Sunday. However I will not be alone. JR Zevon has to prepare just like I do. If you punch me, I feel pain, but so does he. If you cut me, I bleed, but so does Zevon. So with so much in common, what separates us from one another? The answer to that is quite simple: ability. While JR Zevon may be a great speaker and a man of words found only in the deepest bowels of your thesaurus, such fails to benefit him once that bell rings. My charisma tags along with my poise inside the ring, my mental stability, and my overall wrestling skill. I’m not trying to float my boat here when I say I’m simply the better of the two of us. If I had the Eastern Heavyweight Championship draped over my shoulder right now, I’d pat it and give a thumbs up to the cameras in front of me and deliver a catchphrase, but I don’t have that luxury right now.
So if you’d all excuse me, I need to resume my training for what will prove to be a breathtaking spectacle this Sunday when I defend the pride of POW: North East inside four sides of steel in the great town of Ocean City, Maryland.”
Daniel and Julia had joined the crowd and John spotted them heading towards the parking lot. Splitting the sea of reporters and cameras, he caught up with them. A few straggling men followed him, asking just a few extra questions, but John was quite satisfied with the amount he had divulged. Maybe now he could actually relax, just a little, before this Sunday arrived. Maybe.
/*\ Against the Wall --- Part Four /*\
Nothing but a sliding glass door stood between a bruised John Anthony and the press that awaited him. They were as bloodthirsty as the underground cartel’s audience it seemed. Luckily John wouldn’t have to fight any of them, at least not physically. He took a step forward and the door’s sensors activated, causing them to slide open. John stepped into the afternoon sun and was met by an assault of cameras, microphones, and reporters spewing questions at a thousand words per second. He held up his hands and tried to push his way forward some, at least out of the way of the hospital entrance. The reporters continued shooting questions like their mouths were automatic machine guns firing bullets of curiosity. John continued his three second pose that consisted of him holding two hands in the air, keeping his mouth shut, and walking forward. Eventually, he got as far as he could go before he was literally surrounded.
John:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you all no doubt have plenty of questions for me.”
That very sentence opened up a re-invigorated storm of who’s, what’s, when’s, and where’s. John sighed and almost removed his shades, but remembered the black eye that they so cleverly concealed. Instead he cleared his throat to try and quiet the crowd before continuing.
John:
“Now instead of wasting my entire day here fielding questions one by one, let me instead grant you with a makeshift speech of sorts. An unscripted interview between myself, and myself. So turn your cameras this way, point your microphones forward, and close your eager lips for the time being, because here is where we stand.
After my sweeping victory over POW: North East newcomer Dr. Phate, I figured there would be no better way to celebrate then to take my colleagues out to one of the greatest nightclubs in Trenton, Club Zango’s. This simple act led to an extremely sinister plot however, one that seems to be stolen directly from the pages from a fiction novel. A New York Times Best Selling fiction novel of course, but you get the idea. Julia, Daniel, and myself found ourselves knocked unconscious and held captive by the sinister Katherine Zango in her underground fighting cartel. Against my wishes I was forced to fight against a three hundred and fifty pound man by the name of Brine. I refused, but the health and well-being of my friends was put on the line and my options dwindled quickly. Bare-knuckle fighting, especially of the illegal underground type, is something I’ve never endorsed in any way, but somehow found myself a part of. Fighting for my own safety and that of my friends, I found myself on the receiving end of a brutal ass kicking. Luckily for me, my fans, and quite frankly everyone involved, I managed to dig into some hidden reserve that allowed me to incapacitate Brine long enough to escape.
Brine had other motives however and lashed out against Katherine Zango, attacking her right in front of her father, the guards, and the audience that all need to check their own morals and re-evaluate themselves. Panic ensued, but my two partners and I found our way out of the arena and into the streets outside of the Trenton Library. Authorities arrived on scene and I was brought to this very hospital merely as a precautionary measure. I was not injured in any way, shape, or form and these stitches on my jaw are actually from an unfortunate accident involving a shower and a bar of soap.
Anyway, after being checked out this morning, I was cleared to leave but opted to stay in the confines of the hospital for a little longer. It served as a mental sanctuary of sorts, a chance for me to collect myself and consider my match this weekend, and that is what I would like to turn our attention towards. You see this Sunday I will be partaking in another battle, although this one will be on the legal side of the law. Surprising, considering it will take place in conditions as inhumane as my debacle with Brine. Yes, being surrounded by four walls of steel caging is enough to bring out the animalistic and raw instincts of any man, something that I’m sure both JR Zevon and myself will attempt to harness during our match for the coveted Eastern Heavyweight Championship. But I assure you of two things. First, I am in perfect fighting condition despite recent events and will be prepared mentally and physically to square off in a rematch with JR Zevon this Sunday at Ocean City Slam. Second, I will be leaving that night the same way I enter; as your Eastern Heavyweight Champion.
There’s really no need for me to waste my breath on hype duty for this match, because a mere look at our past encounters will do plenty of justice. JR Zevon and I have quite a track record stemming back quite some ways. Whether it is in one versus one encounters, triple threats with special guest referees, him paying off managers to have their clients assault me, or tag team battles, we’ve been at each other’s throats for quite a while now. Don’t get me wrong, I respect JR Zevon’s minimalistic talent in the ring, but the dime stops there. His tactics, attitude, slave woman, and mental state are all left to question. POW: North East spoke their mind at Red, White, and Bruised by cheering who they felt deserved to win the title that night, and their voices were heard. I have since been slandered for winning in such a quick and uninspiring method, but your voices were heard once again, this time by our general manager Tony Hunter. By booking this cage match; Tony Hunter has assured the fans the fight they’ve been looking for. He has given JR Zevon his chance at a rematch, he has given me a chance to thrill the audience and defend my newly obtained gold, and he has given POW: North East a match that has the potential to go down in the history books. After this Sunday, I want the very term “cage match” to bring back memories of JR Zevon versus John Anthony, and that isn’t a far-fetched ideal.
Now, I’ve never participated in a cage match during my career as a professional wrestler, or even trained for such. It is going to be new territory for me and simply watching videos of past cage matches hardly does this type of scenario justice. Once that cage is lowered and the door is shut, I can’t anticipate the feelings that will be going through me. Not just because my title is on the line, not just because I’ll be standing across from my acclaimed rival, but also because neither man nor animal enjoys the feeling of being caged up. This week I’ve experienced the feeling of being backed into a corner more than once, and the same could describe the situation I will find myself in this Sunday. However I will not be alone. JR Zevon has to prepare just like I do. If you punch me, I feel pain, but so does he. If you cut me, I bleed, but so does Zevon. So with so much in common, what separates us from one another? The answer to that is quite simple: ability. While JR Zevon may be a great speaker and a man of words found only in the deepest bowels of your thesaurus, such fails to benefit him once that bell rings. My charisma tags along with my poise inside the ring, my mental stability, and my overall wrestling skill. I’m not trying to float my boat here when I say I’m simply the better of the two of us. If I had the Eastern Heavyweight Championship draped over my shoulder right now, I’d pat it and give a thumbs up to the cameras in front of me and deliver a catchphrase, but I don’t have that luxury right now.
So if you’d all excuse me, I need to resume my training for what will prove to be a breathtaking spectacle this Sunday when I defend the pride of POW: North East inside four sides of steel in the great town of Ocean City, Maryland.”
Daniel and Julia had joined the crowd and John spotted them heading towards the parking lot. Splitting the sea of reporters and cameras, he caught up with them. A few straggling men followed him, asking just a few extra questions, but John was quite satisfied with the amount he had divulged. Maybe now he could actually relax, just a little, before this Sunday arrived. Maybe.
