Post by poisonpit on May 31, 2007 11:21:16 GMT -6
The beach is in full swing as a couple hundred loyal POW fans jam to the band Buckcherry.
Everyone is having a great time at POW's Early Summer Beach Bash.
All except one man.
In a rage, Toro Verde pushes his way away from the stage.
He is lost in a sea of crazed people,
bodies pressing against him, closing all around.
No one even looks twice at the masked man wedging his way through.
It's like they've all forgotten about him already.
After several minutes of maddening labor,
Toro Verde is free from the confines of the hot sweaty crowd and walks down to the edge of the water.
He is even angrier now than when he was on-stage.
Why the hell had he even decided to take part in this stupid gig,
this farce called publicity?
He had come because he wanted to satisfy the fans, but now,
looking at the crowd, all he sees is a hysterical mass of obnoxious morons listening to horrible music,
all the while being manipulated by the king of morons,
the Champion of the People,
Josh Eagles.
The rage building in Toro Verde is nearly unbearable.
Suddenly, it feels as if he is in the middle of that crowd again,
being pushed against from every side.
He can't breathe.
Toro rips at the ties on his mask,
desperately trying to pull in air.
He sinks to his knees in the surf as the mask finally comes off,
his chest rising and falling faster than the tide.
After a couple of moments, his breathing begins to slow down.
Enrique dips his hand into the cold ocean water and splashes some on his face.
Suddenly, he hears a voice against the surf.
"Don't you think you should keep your mask on? A fan might see your face."
Enrique looks to the voice's owner:
The Good Doctor Vertigo standing fully-clothed in the ocean,
the water up to his waist.
Alvarez: To Hell w/ them.
A smirk crosses the Good Doctor's face, making the sinister features appear even bolder.
Vertigo: To Hell w/ them? That's not what you've been saying these last couple of weeks. Why, you even gave your ceremonial matador vest to that poor fan who got his sign ripped apart by Mick Cormac. Didn't you tell me that vest belonged to your late grandfather, "El Matador" Pedro Alvarez the First?
Alvarez (rising to his feet): Maybe that was a mistake.
Vertigo: Come out here w/ me, Enrique.
Alvarez seems a bit hesitant, but steps into the water and wades down to meet his manager.
They look to the crowd off in the distance, the sound of crashing guitars and drums ringing in the air.
Alvarez: Look at them. They are all so oblivious to what this is really about. Why weren't you up there? You should have seen what happened.
Vertigo: It might come as a surprise to you, but I'm not much of a fan of rock music. I'm even less of a fan of hysterical crowds, unless I'm leading them of course.... I already knew what was going to happen up there anyway.
Alvarez: How?
Vertigo: Doesn't take a brain surgeon to realize what this whole gathering is about.
Alvarez: Josh Eagles stroking his ego?
Vertigo: And getting the fickle-minded fans on his side.
Alvarez: He's playing them like a bunch of puppets and they're eating it up.
Vertigo: Listen to me Enrique: you don't need them. What did you come to POW for? To play the clown for those bastard's amusement? No! You came to succeed. And look at what you've done thus far: you have three wins in this company and not a single one of them are your own doing. One win was w/ the help of Jay Mason and the other two were wins in tag matches where your partner Buddy Love finished it all off. Is that how you want to be remembered? As nothing more than a jobber and teammate for a drunken fool?
Alvarez: Leave Buddy out of this!
Vertigo: No, I will not leave Buddy out of this! I had dreams for you Enrique! If you had stayed by me you could be one of the most powerful forces in wrestling, but instead you chose to be a part of a circus act! Buddy Love is a clown and as long as you are his partner, that's all you'll be too. A pair of clowns dancing for the fan's applause. Don't you get it, man? As long as you wrestle for nothing more than the fan's enjoyment, you will be nothing more than their puppet on a string. Is that what you want?
Enrique Alvarez stands stunned, not knowing what to say or do.
It is then that he realizes how Godamn cold he is standing in the ocean in the middle of the night.
Without another word to his manager, he turns around and begins to trudge up to the beach.
He realizes now how quiet the stage is, probably in the process of switching bands.
Up on the beach, Enrique looks back to the water in search of Vertigo, but he is nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, a barage of heavy metal blasts into Enrique Alvarez's senses.
A familiar guitar line shatters his perspective.
From a distance, he realizes that he is hearing the legends themselves.
End of passion play, crumbling away,
I'm your source of self-destruction.
Veins that pump with fear, sudden dark is clear,
leading on your death's construction.
Taste me you will see,
more is all you need.
You're dedicated to
how I'm killing you.
Come crawling faster!
Obey your Master!
Your life burns faster!
Obey your Master!
MASTER!
Everyone is having a great time at POW's Early Summer Beach Bash.
All except one man.
In a rage, Toro Verde pushes his way away from the stage.
He is lost in a sea of crazed people,
bodies pressing against him, closing all around.
No one even looks twice at the masked man wedging his way through.
It's like they've all forgotten about him already.
After several minutes of maddening labor,
Toro Verde is free from the confines of the hot sweaty crowd and walks down to the edge of the water.
He is even angrier now than when he was on-stage.
Why the hell had he even decided to take part in this stupid gig,
this farce called publicity?
He had come because he wanted to satisfy the fans, but now,
looking at the crowd, all he sees is a hysterical mass of obnoxious morons listening to horrible music,
all the while being manipulated by the king of morons,
the Champion of the People,
Josh Eagles.
The rage building in Toro Verde is nearly unbearable.
Suddenly, it feels as if he is in the middle of that crowd again,
being pushed against from every side.
He can't breathe.
Toro rips at the ties on his mask,
desperately trying to pull in air.
He sinks to his knees in the surf as the mask finally comes off,
his chest rising and falling faster than the tide.
After a couple of moments, his breathing begins to slow down.
Enrique dips his hand into the cold ocean water and splashes some on his face.
Suddenly, he hears a voice against the surf.
"Don't you think you should keep your mask on? A fan might see your face."
Enrique looks to the voice's owner:
The Good Doctor Vertigo standing fully-clothed in the ocean,
the water up to his waist.
Alvarez: To Hell w/ them.
A smirk crosses the Good Doctor's face, making the sinister features appear even bolder.
Vertigo: To Hell w/ them? That's not what you've been saying these last couple of weeks. Why, you even gave your ceremonial matador vest to that poor fan who got his sign ripped apart by Mick Cormac. Didn't you tell me that vest belonged to your late grandfather, "El Matador" Pedro Alvarez the First?
Alvarez (rising to his feet): Maybe that was a mistake.
Vertigo: Come out here w/ me, Enrique.
Alvarez seems a bit hesitant, but steps into the water and wades down to meet his manager.
They look to the crowd off in the distance, the sound of crashing guitars and drums ringing in the air.
Alvarez: Look at them. They are all so oblivious to what this is really about. Why weren't you up there? You should have seen what happened.
Vertigo: It might come as a surprise to you, but I'm not much of a fan of rock music. I'm even less of a fan of hysterical crowds, unless I'm leading them of course.... I already knew what was going to happen up there anyway.
Alvarez: How?
Vertigo: Doesn't take a brain surgeon to realize what this whole gathering is about.
Alvarez: Josh Eagles stroking his ego?
Vertigo: And getting the fickle-minded fans on his side.
Alvarez: He's playing them like a bunch of puppets and they're eating it up.
Vertigo: Listen to me Enrique: you don't need them. What did you come to POW for? To play the clown for those bastard's amusement? No! You came to succeed. And look at what you've done thus far: you have three wins in this company and not a single one of them are your own doing. One win was w/ the help of Jay Mason and the other two were wins in tag matches where your partner Buddy Love finished it all off. Is that how you want to be remembered? As nothing more than a jobber and teammate for a drunken fool?
Alvarez: Leave Buddy out of this!
Vertigo: No, I will not leave Buddy out of this! I had dreams for you Enrique! If you had stayed by me you could be one of the most powerful forces in wrestling, but instead you chose to be a part of a circus act! Buddy Love is a clown and as long as you are his partner, that's all you'll be too. A pair of clowns dancing for the fan's applause. Don't you get it, man? As long as you wrestle for nothing more than the fan's enjoyment, you will be nothing more than their puppet on a string. Is that what you want?
Enrique Alvarez stands stunned, not knowing what to say or do.
It is then that he realizes how Godamn cold he is standing in the ocean in the middle of the night.
Without another word to his manager, he turns around and begins to trudge up to the beach.
He realizes now how quiet the stage is, probably in the process of switching bands.
Up on the beach, Enrique looks back to the water in search of Vertigo, but he is nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, a barage of heavy metal blasts into Enrique Alvarez's senses.
A familiar guitar line shatters his perspective.
From a distance, he realizes that he is hearing the legends themselves.
End of passion play, crumbling away,
I'm your source of self-destruction.
Veins that pump with fear, sudden dark is clear,
leading on your death's construction.
Taste me you will see,
more is all you need.
You're dedicated to
how I'm killing you.
Come crawling faster!
Obey your Master!
Your life burns faster!
Obey your Master!
MASTER!