Post by Randy Orton on Jul 23, 2009 15:45:23 GMT -5
The arena is hushed, filled with anticipation for the next bit of FCW action. Suddenly the arena goes dark. There are camera's flashing and the usual events one expects to occur in a darkened arena. The silence is interrupted as the Titan-tron begins to play a video. The screen is a mixture of light blue and gray as Randy Orton is shown. A female's voice begins to speak as highlights from Orton's career are played.
(Narrator) "His career is defined by excellence. His accomplishments legend. He is unstoppable. His very birth proof of his destiny to rule professional wrestling. He is an icon. He is wrestling royalty. Born better. He is perfection."
The video stops suddenly, and the arena returns to darkness. As a golden pyro streams down, "Voices" by Rev Theory begins to play. The boos are instantaneous, as Orton emerges onto the ramp. He is dressed in a black 'Legacy' T-shirt. He quickly makes his way down the aisle, into the ring.
The boos continue, as Orton stands in the middle of the ring. He has a mic in his hand, but does not raise it, instead soaking in the boos. He stares expressionless into the crowd, perhaps enjoying the boos, or pretending them cheers. However, once he speaks it is clear the disdain is mutual.
"Silence in the arena please." The boos instead amplify, but Orton continues on, as if the audience had heeded his command. "Tonight we stand on the precipice of destiny. Tonight we prepare for the return of the greatest FCW champion in history, me Randy Orton." The fans boo even louder, and the cameras pan the crowd, catching the various expressions of displeasure.
"For you see, tonight we are officially counting down to Last Resort. The men who call themselves champions right now have proven themselves unworthy. Alexander Parise has allowed ratings to drop so low for his brand that it has been forced to close. He has dropped the ball. His credibility as champion is gone. The only thing he's qualified to do is go back after his old Intercontinental championship. He can't carry this company."
The fans erupt now into a chant of "asshole." It is not necessarily because they like Parise, but rather their utter contempt for Orton. On this their is universal agreement. Orton, as usual pays them little mind, continuing.
"And Jimmy Gimmick? He's even worse. He was widely considered the top star of Requiem. He was the face of the brand. It was built around him. He was supposed to be the number one guy. He was the figurehead of the brand. He was instead upstaged by his protege. What a complete and utter failure. Gimmick, you were touted as the next big thing, and you were out shined by your sidekick. You're a filthy, lowdown, disgrace."
Orton almost smirks before returning to his face, the intense look of loathing.
"Edge. Edge Edge. For all your bravado, even you know you are out of your league. You are a tag team specialist Edge. You are comic relief. You are upper mid card at best. You do not belong at this level. Yet, through various miracles you somehow ended up with my title. My FCW world championship. A title you never beat me for. Never. You pinned Cena and stole my title."
Orton paces the ring some more, rubbing his face with his hands. A vein can be seen in his forehead, as if he is pondering some great philosophical query.
"So the question becomes, how do I approach the match? Obviously, morality and sportsmanship aren't high on the list of priorities with any of my opponents. So just being brutal will not be enough to secure a victory. I will need to utilize everything at my disposal. I will need to bring out every weapon."
"I will need to rely more on my superior mental acumen than normal. Even though in all honesty, is there anyone who doubts I am the most complete athlete on the planet? Physically I am better. Mentally I am better. How can the match end in any way other than my claiming the undisputed world title? It cant, and to even entertain the idea is folly."
"You see it is a foregone conclusion that I will destroy Edge. That much is given. I possess all the tools, while Edge has only a lucky streak in his repertoire. Edge, let's face it, only a fool would bet on you. I am coming in aggressive and I'll beat you early. Unlike you, I will give my game plan away. Because even if you know what's coming, there won't be a damn thing you can do to stop it."
Orton once again runs his hand across his face. The look of solid confidence and desire unwavering. He clears his throat as he goes on.
"As for the losers who couldn't keep their brand afloat. The talentless bums who lost millions of dollars for this company. As for them, we all know they will leave nothing on the line. They will attempt to annihilate one another. Any threat they possessed, which was very little, will have vanished after they're through."
"So it looks like two easy matches for me at Last Resort. Because whether anyone here likes it. Whether or not anyone in the back likes it, there is no denying I am the odds on favorite to win. Why? Because I have demonstrated time and again just how dominant I am. if you were going to construct the perfect wrestler. If you were going to build him from the ground up, this is what he would look like."
Orton holds his arms out, displaying his perfection for the crowd to see. Their reaction is, as to be expected, a collection of groans and expletives.
"Edge, Gimmick, Parise it is the way of the world guys. There are always those that are better. There are always those that are unbelievably gifted. Only an idiot could look at this match and not foresee the outcome. I was born better, and I am better. The whole world knows I can't be denied my title. And I damn sure won't be denied the chance to unify the world titles to become the undisputed world champion."
"Last Resort, it will be the last time you see me enter the ring without the undisputed championship. I'm already the undisputed best, the only thing left to do is beat up three mismatched clowns." Orton drops the mic, as "Voices" plays again. He does his usual poses as he exits the ring to a chorus of boos.
(Narrator) "His career is defined by excellence. His accomplishments legend. He is unstoppable. His very birth proof of his destiny to rule professional wrestling. He is an icon. He is wrestling royalty. Born better. He is perfection."
The video stops suddenly, and the arena returns to darkness. As a golden pyro streams down, "Voices" by Rev Theory begins to play. The boos are instantaneous, as Orton emerges onto the ramp. He is dressed in a black 'Legacy' T-shirt. He quickly makes his way down the aisle, into the ring.
The boos continue, as Orton stands in the middle of the ring. He has a mic in his hand, but does not raise it, instead soaking in the boos. He stares expressionless into the crowd, perhaps enjoying the boos, or pretending them cheers. However, once he speaks it is clear the disdain is mutual.
"Silence in the arena please." The boos instead amplify, but Orton continues on, as if the audience had heeded his command. "Tonight we stand on the precipice of destiny. Tonight we prepare for the return of the greatest FCW champion in history, me Randy Orton." The fans boo even louder, and the cameras pan the crowd, catching the various expressions of displeasure.
"For you see, tonight we are officially counting down to Last Resort. The men who call themselves champions right now have proven themselves unworthy. Alexander Parise has allowed ratings to drop so low for his brand that it has been forced to close. He has dropped the ball. His credibility as champion is gone. The only thing he's qualified to do is go back after his old Intercontinental championship. He can't carry this company."
The fans erupt now into a chant of "asshole." It is not necessarily because they like Parise, but rather their utter contempt for Orton. On this their is universal agreement. Orton, as usual pays them little mind, continuing.
"And Jimmy Gimmick? He's even worse. He was widely considered the top star of Requiem. He was the face of the brand. It was built around him. He was supposed to be the number one guy. He was the figurehead of the brand. He was instead upstaged by his protege. What a complete and utter failure. Gimmick, you were touted as the next big thing, and you were out shined by your sidekick. You're a filthy, lowdown, disgrace."
Orton almost smirks before returning to his face, the intense look of loathing.
"Edge. Edge Edge. For all your bravado, even you know you are out of your league. You are a tag team specialist Edge. You are comic relief. You are upper mid card at best. You do not belong at this level. Yet, through various miracles you somehow ended up with my title. My FCW world championship. A title you never beat me for. Never. You pinned Cena and stole my title."
Orton paces the ring some more, rubbing his face with his hands. A vein can be seen in his forehead, as if he is pondering some great philosophical query.
"So the question becomes, how do I approach the match? Obviously, morality and sportsmanship aren't high on the list of priorities with any of my opponents. So just being brutal will not be enough to secure a victory. I will need to utilize everything at my disposal. I will need to bring out every weapon."
"I will need to rely more on my superior mental acumen than normal. Even though in all honesty, is there anyone who doubts I am the most complete athlete on the planet? Physically I am better. Mentally I am better. How can the match end in any way other than my claiming the undisputed world title? It cant, and to even entertain the idea is folly."
"You see it is a foregone conclusion that I will destroy Edge. That much is given. I possess all the tools, while Edge has only a lucky streak in his repertoire. Edge, let's face it, only a fool would bet on you. I am coming in aggressive and I'll beat you early. Unlike you, I will give my game plan away. Because even if you know what's coming, there won't be a damn thing you can do to stop it."
Orton once again runs his hand across his face. The look of solid confidence and desire unwavering. He clears his throat as he goes on.
"As for the losers who couldn't keep their brand afloat. The talentless bums who lost millions of dollars for this company. As for them, we all know they will leave nothing on the line. They will attempt to annihilate one another. Any threat they possessed, which was very little, will have vanished after they're through."
"So it looks like two easy matches for me at Last Resort. Because whether anyone here likes it. Whether or not anyone in the back likes it, there is no denying I am the odds on favorite to win. Why? Because I have demonstrated time and again just how dominant I am. if you were going to construct the perfect wrestler. If you were going to build him from the ground up, this is what he would look like."
Orton holds his arms out, displaying his perfection for the crowd to see. Their reaction is, as to be expected, a collection of groans and expletives.
"Edge, Gimmick, Parise it is the way of the world guys. There are always those that are better. There are always those that are unbelievably gifted. Only an idiot could look at this match and not foresee the outcome. I was born better, and I am better. The whole world knows I can't be denied my title. And I damn sure won't be denied the chance to unify the world titles to become the undisputed world champion."
"Last Resort, it will be the last time you see me enter the ring without the undisputed championship. I'm already the undisputed best, the only thing left to do is beat up three mismatched clowns." Orton drops the mic, as "Voices" plays again. He does his usual poses as he exits the ring to a chorus of boos.
