Post by Karl Storm on Aug 13, 2009 20:35:28 GMT -5
Storm sits at his computer chair, his eyes half closed as he watches the last Seifer Blacke promo wrap up on the monitor in front of him. Once the video cuts out he stirs slowly, instantly it is obvious that he looks a lot better than he has in the past fortnight or so. His hair is back to its ridiculous "glory" and the rings around his eyes are reduced significantly, he even manages a genuine smile as he raises out of his chair and turns to the slightly battered JVC camcorder that stands, slightly skewed, upon its tripod beside his bed.
After more moments than it should probably take, the trusty piece of electronic kit flickers into life and Storm resumes his seat in the large leather chair, kicking himself backwards to ensure that he is properly in the shot. He gives a little wave to the camera and a cursory fluffing of his back-comb before folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in the chair, using his interlocked hands as a head rest as he speaks.
Well hey there, FCW fandom in general. And how is everybody today, good? Great.
First of all allow me to apologise for the entirely low tech package on offer, unfortunately Steve has got swine flu or something so I've got to fly solo on this one.
Anyway, let's crack on since I've not really got an awful lot of time right now, places to be and all that jazz. So let's begin with the congratulations that are in order, shall we? Here we go:
Congratulations, Seifer Blacke. No, really, I mean it one hundred percent! You found your place in life, and I'm glad for that. You found the person to finally put that reassuring arm around your shoulder and say to you "You're pretty good, kid". Of course that person is Randy Orton, which pretty much makes it a dead cert that the free arm will be tugging on your strings and sending you out to cavort across the land with the other meat puppets in Legacy, but whatever floats your boat.
A grin creases his lips, although the mirth of it never illuminates his eyes, and he moves his hands from behind his head to make a placating gesture as he continues to speak.
I jest, I jest. I have no problems with Legacy at all--well apart from that unpleasent business last week in the six man tag, but you know what? I can let that slide, I honestly can. I can let it slide simply because it wasn't me that had my skull punted into row z. It wasn't me who was made an example of and left laying in the middle of the ring. Hell when you consider that all I got was a moderately nasty tumble to the floor courtsey of the newest Legacy member, I would say I got off pretty lightly.
Another smile and now he leans forward slowly, his gaze unlfinching upon the camera as he rests his elbows upon his knees and steeples his fingers in front of his face.
So here I am, all ready to let bygones be bygones. I mean so what if you dumped me off the ring apron? So what if you got in my business after I lost to Robin and had the temerity to speak to me like an equal? After all we have a tag match coming up and, let's be franky, people are expecting us to implode.
In fact, I would go so far as to say that history demands we implode. Let's face facts, if this wierd and whacky sport of ours has taught us anything, it's that the convention is for a pair of egos like ours to just be unable to coexist. Naturally I'll be out to gain a measure of revenge for your betrayal last week and you, well you'll be out to make a good first impression as a full member of Legacy by taking out your opponents, and if you should be able to harm me in the process then so much the better. Conventional wisdom dictates that this is unavoidable for us, however I propose we defy convention in this instance.
You see the road most travelled here offers no appeal to me, so why not show a little generousity?
Oh yes!
I am willing to be the bigger man here, Seifer. I am willing to allow you to make this glorious first impression. I am willing to allow you to prove to the world that you are the amazing natural athlete you claim to be.
How? Simple, I'm willing to take tomorrow night off and you can have Hellman and Copeland all to yourself.
As I see it, sunbeam, this way you don't get saddled with a "chump" for a partner and I get to enjoy a long weekend, everybody wins!
He smiles again and gives a little wave before pushing out of the chair and moving to turn the camera off. After another series of frustrating moments he finally retreives the storage media from the camera and smiles down at it before popping it into a protective case and slipping it into his pocket.
He turns on his heel and strides towards the bedroom door, pausing for a moment beside the dresser upon which the Commonwealth Crown rests, casting an almost furtive glance around despite himself before reaching down towards the silver faceplate of the belt, his fingertips possibly brushing against the cool surface before he saunters out of the room.
End scene
After more moments than it should probably take, the trusty piece of electronic kit flickers into life and Storm resumes his seat in the large leather chair, kicking himself backwards to ensure that he is properly in the shot. He gives a little wave to the camera and a cursory fluffing of his back-comb before folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in the chair, using his interlocked hands as a head rest as he speaks.
Well hey there, FCW fandom in general. And how is everybody today, good? Great.
First of all allow me to apologise for the entirely low tech package on offer, unfortunately Steve has got swine flu or something so I've got to fly solo on this one.
Anyway, let's crack on since I've not really got an awful lot of time right now, places to be and all that jazz. So let's begin with the congratulations that are in order, shall we? Here we go:
Congratulations, Seifer Blacke. No, really, I mean it one hundred percent! You found your place in life, and I'm glad for that. You found the person to finally put that reassuring arm around your shoulder and say to you "You're pretty good, kid". Of course that person is Randy Orton, which pretty much makes it a dead cert that the free arm will be tugging on your strings and sending you out to cavort across the land with the other meat puppets in Legacy, but whatever floats your boat.
A grin creases his lips, although the mirth of it never illuminates his eyes, and he moves his hands from behind his head to make a placating gesture as he continues to speak.
I jest, I jest. I have no problems with Legacy at all--well apart from that unpleasent business last week in the six man tag, but you know what? I can let that slide, I honestly can. I can let it slide simply because it wasn't me that had my skull punted into row z. It wasn't me who was made an example of and left laying in the middle of the ring. Hell when you consider that all I got was a moderately nasty tumble to the floor courtsey of the newest Legacy member, I would say I got off pretty lightly.
Another smile and now he leans forward slowly, his gaze unlfinching upon the camera as he rests his elbows upon his knees and steeples his fingers in front of his face.
So here I am, all ready to let bygones be bygones. I mean so what if you dumped me off the ring apron? So what if you got in my business after I lost to Robin and had the temerity to speak to me like an equal? After all we have a tag match coming up and, let's be franky, people are expecting us to implode.
In fact, I would go so far as to say that history demands we implode. Let's face facts, if this wierd and whacky sport of ours has taught us anything, it's that the convention is for a pair of egos like ours to just be unable to coexist. Naturally I'll be out to gain a measure of revenge for your betrayal last week and you, well you'll be out to make a good first impression as a full member of Legacy by taking out your opponents, and if you should be able to harm me in the process then so much the better. Conventional wisdom dictates that this is unavoidable for us, however I propose we defy convention in this instance.
You see the road most travelled here offers no appeal to me, so why not show a little generousity?
Oh yes!
I am willing to be the bigger man here, Seifer. I am willing to allow you to make this glorious first impression. I am willing to allow you to prove to the world that you are the amazing natural athlete you claim to be.
How? Simple, I'm willing to take tomorrow night off and you can have Hellman and Copeland all to yourself.
As I see it, sunbeam, this way you don't get saddled with a "chump" for a partner and I get to enjoy a long weekend, everybody wins!
He smiles again and gives a little wave before pushing out of the chair and moving to turn the camera off. After another series of frustrating moments he finally retreives the storage media from the camera and smiles down at it before popping it into a protective case and slipping it into his pocket.
He turns on his heel and strides towards the bedroom door, pausing for a moment beside the dresser upon which the Commonwealth Crown rests, casting an almost furtive glance around despite himself before reaching down towards the silver faceplate of the belt, his fingertips possibly brushing against the cool surface before he saunters out of the room.
End scene
