Post by Travis Beckham on Jun 14, 2008 22:30:38 GMT -5
OOC: This is my partner's RP. I am posting it under my name to keep him a secret until tomorrow.
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The scene begins to fade in as the camera is heavily zoomed in on a shiny, gold substance. As the camera slowly begins to zoom out, it becomes clearer that the substance is actually a solid gold engraving on a strong, chestnut colored wooden door. The engraving is of two interlaced “B”s and appears to be etched deep within the wood. It's a very elegant design and gives off the impression of wealth and prestige. The camera zooms out a little further, though still only focuses on the door and nothing else around it. The arm and back of a man appears out of the right hand corner of the frame, he looks awkward and timid as he steps further into view. He takes a deep breath and lightly raps on the beautiful door. He slowly takes a step back and sighs in relief, happy to have completed the initial knock.
Footsteps can be heard from the other side of the door, gaining more resonance as the seconds pass. Then, with a loud click and a quick swing, the door bursts open, and a large figure appears in the frame.
The man who stands in the doorway is covered from the mid-section up in shadows. What we can see of the man appears confident in stature, dressed in a slick, rich and finely crafted suit. There is a bright, gold watch on his left hand, which disappears as he places his hands comfortably in his pockets. Hidden in the shadows, the man stares intently at the reporter and the lone cameraman, turns his back to them, and slowly walks back into the room from which he came. Over his right shoulder, he motions for the two men to follow him inside, and they do so, slowly and with caution.
The room is a dimly lit study, very dark in ambiance, with giant bookshelves and an incredible amount of literature. The man continues to the back of the room and takes his place in a black leather chair that is placed behind a large chestnut colored desk, identical in finish to the front door. The lights in the room are positioned so that the upper half of the man remains in the shadows. The cameraman appears to know what he’s doing, he sets up the camera in front of the desk and waits for the cue.
Man: Why did they send more than just a camera? I go against all of my better judgment and allow one cameraman into the building, one cameraman who could still blow my cover if he so wished, and they still send along another.
The reporter looks around the room, as if the man in the shadows in talking about someone else.
Man: Yeah, I’m talking about you. Who the hell sent you anyway?
The reporter slowly takes a step forward and holds his hands together in front of his body, like a little child who is being scolded by a parent.
Reporter: Well sir, it is AWG policy to send a reporter with every scheduled interview or other on camera segment. I was assigned to…
The man in the shadows quickly interrupts the reporter.
Man: Well now you’re being re-assigned. Go and wait outside the building. I’ll send your cameraman out when I am finished. You aren’t needed.
The reporter quickly turns and heads toward the door, never turning back to check on the cameraman. He opens the door and disappears back out into the hallway. The door slams shut behind him as the man in the shadows cringes with the loud bang.
Man: What a pathetic, worthless piece of trash.
He turns his attention back to the cameraman, who has remained motionless since setting up the camera.
Man: Is that thing ready?
The cameraman nods and takes a step toward the camera.
Cameraman: Yes sir, as soon as you give me the cue, we’ll start rolling.
Man: Excellent. You may start the tape.
The cameraman reaches to the side of the camera and presses a button causing a glowing red light to emit from above the lens. The cameraman points at the man to signal that he is set to begin.
Man: Hello AWG. Consider this your official warning, and pay attention, because you’re only going to hear it once.
The cameraman looks on with a timid look on his face. The man in the darkness shifts in his leather chair before beginning.
Man: I’m sure you were not expecting to hear from me, at least not until this Sunday. Well, plans have changed, and I have decided to address my opponents, or at least what the Board Of Directors calls opponents, for this Sunday’s match-up.
Now, you may all be wondering why I have kept my identity secret all this time, and why I am continuing to keep it a secret mere days before Exodus. Aside from the obvious, fan-centered suspense which the Authentic Wrestling Gods hopes to create, I feel that masking my identity from both Max Power and Anthony Phoenix gives myself a slight advantage. And I am the sort of businessman who takes every advantage I can. It’s the only way to succeed in America.
The man slightly leans back in the black leather chair. He crosses his legs and places his left foot on top of his right knee.
Man: You see, it has been nearly eleven months since I last stepped foot into a ring on live television. Since I have never personally seen either my opponents in action, why should I allow them to learn anything about myself? Why would I give them the chance to go back and look for information about my in ring abilities? Why give them that sort of advantage? It truly makes no sense.
On the other hand, I have had the time to review past matches of my opponents. I’ve picked up on trends, tendencies, and the overall strategies of both men. I’ve taken the first step ahead of them on the road to victory.
The man stands up from his black leather chair. The camera follows the man as he begins to pace behind his desk, even though you can barely make out parts of his mid-section and nothing higher due to the shadows.
Man: First, we have Anthony Phoenix, the current hardcore champion of the Authentic Wrestling Gods. Now that’s one prestigious title. So glamorous and esteemed that no one has attempted to take it from you in quite some time now. I’m sure you could swing that fact to make it seem as if the other members of the roster were too afraid to try and take it from you, but we both know that that would be a fabrication of the truth. The truth is that that loosely fitted piece of leather and metal that you keep around your waist is the most worthless piece of trash the Authentic Wrestling Gods have to offer. But go ahead, keep telling yourself that it means something. Then after Beckham and myself dispose of your pathetic excuse for a tag team, go home and curl up with that worthless piece of garbage, it might make you feel a little bit better.
Aside from being a bogus champion, one would also wonder about your choice of a tag team partner. Isn’t this the same Max Power that you destroyed in a cage match barely three months ago? The same Max Power whom you defeated twice in the matter of a few weeks? I swear that I distinctly remember footage of you jumping off of the top of a steel cage, landing directly on Max Power; pretty brutal if I do say so myself. I guess in the short time sine then you have mended your fences; good for you. It takes a real man to take someone as untalented as Max Power and let him become your tag team partner. I just hope you’ve thought things through, because after this Sunday, we are going to embarrass you much more that you ever did to your partner.
The man stops pacing and steps up to his desk. He places both hands on his desk as he leans forward. His gold watch reflects what little light is in the room back at the camera.
Man: Then we have the man himself, Max Power. Now I must say that as unimpressed as I am with Anthony Phoenix, Mr. Power fails to even make me want to keep my television screen turned on. I’d much rather slip into a coma than be forced to sit in front of a screen and watch what Max Power calls wrestling. It’s pathetic. The only wins I’ve seen from Power seem to come as last ditch, drastic efforts that usually result in some sort of foul play. Not exactly what I call high class wrestling.
Speaking of high class, who the hell do you think you are? James Bond? I have yet to determine where your so-called wealth has come from. If you ask me, I would place a wager on the fact that you are putting on a show for all of AWG, nothing but a sham. There’s no real mansion, no bikini-clad women, no butlers dressed in three piece suits ready to take your every order. It’s all a hoax. You’re probably just the valet at some rich governor’s estate, who runs around with his valet friends pretending to own the place while the real owner is away. Trust me, you haven’t seen wealth yet. When I finally grace AWG with my presence, I will make Dollar McDougal look like a farm boy. As for Max Power, well, after I am through with you, people will forget that you ever existed.
The man takes his hands off the desk and returns to his black leather chair. He crosses his legs again, this time placing his right foot on top of his left knee.
Man: So, to the rest of AWG, let me leave you with this one final warning. When Sunday comes around, my music hits, and everyone in the arena’s jaw hit’s the floor, don’t say that you weren’t properly warned.
The man makes a cutting motion with his right hand. The cameraman quickly rushes to the camera and presses a button which makes the little red light go out. The cameraman quickly begins packing up his equipment.
Man: Make sure that gets on AWG.com before midnight tonight.
The cameraman quickly looks up from disassembling the camera stand.
Cameraman: Yes, yes sir.
After finishing packing up, the cameraman quickly turns and begins to leave the room. The man in the shadows interrupts before he can make it out the door.
Man: If anyone discovers my identity before I step out into the arena this Sunday, I’ll personally make sure that you and that friend of yours are never able to find work again.
The cameraman doesn’t make any gestures and turns to quickly leave the room. He quietly shuts the door behind him as the scene fades to black on the inside of the solid, chestnut colored door.
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The scene begins to fade in as the camera is heavily zoomed in on a shiny, gold substance. As the camera slowly begins to zoom out, it becomes clearer that the substance is actually a solid gold engraving on a strong, chestnut colored wooden door. The engraving is of two interlaced “B”s and appears to be etched deep within the wood. It's a very elegant design and gives off the impression of wealth and prestige. The camera zooms out a little further, though still only focuses on the door and nothing else around it. The arm and back of a man appears out of the right hand corner of the frame, he looks awkward and timid as he steps further into view. He takes a deep breath and lightly raps on the beautiful door. He slowly takes a step back and sighs in relief, happy to have completed the initial knock.
Footsteps can be heard from the other side of the door, gaining more resonance as the seconds pass. Then, with a loud click and a quick swing, the door bursts open, and a large figure appears in the frame.
The man who stands in the doorway is covered from the mid-section up in shadows. What we can see of the man appears confident in stature, dressed in a slick, rich and finely crafted suit. There is a bright, gold watch on his left hand, which disappears as he places his hands comfortably in his pockets. Hidden in the shadows, the man stares intently at the reporter and the lone cameraman, turns his back to them, and slowly walks back into the room from which he came. Over his right shoulder, he motions for the two men to follow him inside, and they do so, slowly and with caution.
The room is a dimly lit study, very dark in ambiance, with giant bookshelves and an incredible amount of literature. The man continues to the back of the room and takes his place in a black leather chair that is placed behind a large chestnut colored desk, identical in finish to the front door. The lights in the room are positioned so that the upper half of the man remains in the shadows. The cameraman appears to know what he’s doing, he sets up the camera in front of the desk and waits for the cue.
Man: Why did they send more than just a camera? I go against all of my better judgment and allow one cameraman into the building, one cameraman who could still blow my cover if he so wished, and they still send along another.
The reporter looks around the room, as if the man in the shadows in talking about someone else.
Man: Yeah, I’m talking about you. Who the hell sent you anyway?
The reporter slowly takes a step forward and holds his hands together in front of his body, like a little child who is being scolded by a parent.
Reporter: Well sir, it is AWG policy to send a reporter with every scheduled interview or other on camera segment. I was assigned to…
The man in the shadows quickly interrupts the reporter.
Man: Well now you’re being re-assigned. Go and wait outside the building. I’ll send your cameraman out when I am finished. You aren’t needed.
The reporter quickly turns and heads toward the door, never turning back to check on the cameraman. He opens the door and disappears back out into the hallway. The door slams shut behind him as the man in the shadows cringes with the loud bang.
Man: What a pathetic, worthless piece of trash.
He turns his attention back to the cameraman, who has remained motionless since setting up the camera.
Man: Is that thing ready?
The cameraman nods and takes a step toward the camera.
Cameraman: Yes sir, as soon as you give me the cue, we’ll start rolling.
Man: Excellent. You may start the tape.
The cameraman reaches to the side of the camera and presses a button causing a glowing red light to emit from above the lens. The cameraman points at the man to signal that he is set to begin.
Man: Hello AWG. Consider this your official warning, and pay attention, because you’re only going to hear it once.
The cameraman looks on with a timid look on his face. The man in the darkness shifts in his leather chair before beginning.
Man: I’m sure you were not expecting to hear from me, at least not until this Sunday. Well, plans have changed, and I have decided to address my opponents, or at least what the Board Of Directors calls opponents, for this Sunday’s match-up.
Now, you may all be wondering why I have kept my identity secret all this time, and why I am continuing to keep it a secret mere days before Exodus. Aside from the obvious, fan-centered suspense which the Authentic Wrestling Gods hopes to create, I feel that masking my identity from both Max Power and Anthony Phoenix gives myself a slight advantage. And I am the sort of businessman who takes every advantage I can. It’s the only way to succeed in America.
The man slightly leans back in the black leather chair. He crosses his legs and places his left foot on top of his right knee.
Man: You see, it has been nearly eleven months since I last stepped foot into a ring on live television. Since I have never personally seen either my opponents in action, why should I allow them to learn anything about myself? Why would I give them the chance to go back and look for information about my in ring abilities? Why give them that sort of advantage? It truly makes no sense.
On the other hand, I have had the time to review past matches of my opponents. I’ve picked up on trends, tendencies, and the overall strategies of both men. I’ve taken the first step ahead of them on the road to victory.
The man stands up from his black leather chair. The camera follows the man as he begins to pace behind his desk, even though you can barely make out parts of his mid-section and nothing higher due to the shadows.
Man: First, we have Anthony Phoenix, the current hardcore champion of the Authentic Wrestling Gods. Now that’s one prestigious title. So glamorous and esteemed that no one has attempted to take it from you in quite some time now. I’m sure you could swing that fact to make it seem as if the other members of the roster were too afraid to try and take it from you, but we both know that that would be a fabrication of the truth. The truth is that that loosely fitted piece of leather and metal that you keep around your waist is the most worthless piece of trash the Authentic Wrestling Gods have to offer. But go ahead, keep telling yourself that it means something. Then after Beckham and myself dispose of your pathetic excuse for a tag team, go home and curl up with that worthless piece of garbage, it might make you feel a little bit better.
Aside from being a bogus champion, one would also wonder about your choice of a tag team partner. Isn’t this the same Max Power that you destroyed in a cage match barely three months ago? The same Max Power whom you defeated twice in the matter of a few weeks? I swear that I distinctly remember footage of you jumping off of the top of a steel cage, landing directly on Max Power; pretty brutal if I do say so myself. I guess in the short time sine then you have mended your fences; good for you. It takes a real man to take someone as untalented as Max Power and let him become your tag team partner. I just hope you’ve thought things through, because after this Sunday, we are going to embarrass you much more that you ever did to your partner.
The man stops pacing and steps up to his desk. He places both hands on his desk as he leans forward. His gold watch reflects what little light is in the room back at the camera.
Man: Then we have the man himself, Max Power. Now I must say that as unimpressed as I am with Anthony Phoenix, Mr. Power fails to even make me want to keep my television screen turned on. I’d much rather slip into a coma than be forced to sit in front of a screen and watch what Max Power calls wrestling. It’s pathetic. The only wins I’ve seen from Power seem to come as last ditch, drastic efforts that usually result in some sort of foul play. Not exactly what I call high class wrestling.
Speaking of high class, who the hell do you think you are? James Bond? I have yet to determine where your so-called wealth has come from. If you ask me, I would place a wager on the fact that you are putting on a show for all of AWG, nothing but a sham. There’s no real mansion, no bikini-clad women, no butlers dressed in three piece suits ready to take your every order. It’s all a hoax. You’re probably just the valet at some rich governor’s estate, who runs around with his valet friends pretending to own the place while the real owner is away. Trust me, you haven’t seen wealth yet. When I finally grace AWG with my presence, I will make Dollar McDougal look like a farm boy. As for Max Power, well, after I am through with you, people will forget that you ever existed.
The man takes his hands off the desk and returns to his black leather chair. He crosses his legs again, this time placing his right foot on top of his left knee.
Man: So, to the rest of AWG, let me leave you with this one final warning. When Sunday comes around, my music hits, and everyone in the arena’s jaw hit’s the floor, don’t say that you weren’t properly warned.
The man makes a cutting motion with his right hand. The cameraman quickly rushes to the camera and presses a button which makes the little red light go out. The cameraman quickly begins packing up his equipment.
Man: Make sure that gets on AWG.com before midnight tonight.
The cameraman quickly looks up from disassembling the camera stand.
Cameraman: Yes, yes sir.
After finishing packing up, the cameraman quickly turns and begins to leave the room. The man in the shadows interrupts before he can make it out the door.
Man: If anyone discovers my identity before I step out into the arena this Sunday, I’ll personally make sure that you and that friend of yours are never able to find work again.
The cameraman doesn’t make any gestures and turns to quickly leave the room. He quietly shuts the door behind him as the scene fades to black on the inside of the solid, chestnut colored door.