Post by Alexander "The Great" Parise on Aug 30, 2009 9:12:54 GMT -5
“Seifer, when I was growing up I watched a lot of Law & Order, and I always wondered what went through the heads of all those killers they prosecuted, but then I met you, and my questions had answers.”
Alexander Parise is sitting in a large chair. The head rest reaches far up above his own, and the wooden style border reaches far wide of his shoulders. The maroon leather sinks in as Parise leans back, placing both arms on the respective arm rests. With his left hand he takes a swig of the large bottle of scotch that was already there, as if waiting for Alexander. Parise is not in his usual locker room, instead he is inside a large dark room, where the sole spotlight illuminates Alexander ‘The Great’. His hair has been cut since the last time he was seen, and he has clearly not shaved in a while.
“I thought they would be complicated, calculated, devious, and intelligent. But it turns out they’re just cowards. They’re weak. And Seifer, you’re their leader. You’re the biggest coward and the weakest link. You’re futile efforts at trying to be anything more than that has exposed you. Now you don’t try to hide who you are, which in most cases is an admirable quality. But not in yours. Everyone looks at you like a disgusting animal. A dying one at that. You try to shrug it all off with violence, violence that you inflict on others. But no one is amused or entertained watching you kick in skulls in your cheap-ass bars and other places that I don’t care to reference. “
Alexander twisted smile re-emerges and for a moment Parise looks as evil as he did the first time he stepped into FCW. He takes another swig from the bottle and swallows it down, his expression barely changing whilst he continues to talk.
“Seifer, I would like it if you talked to me without being mid-pucker, it kind of distorts what you say. Seifer I don’t care that you feel the need to shove your head so far up Randy’s ass that we have a case of Siamese twins, no, what bothers me is that you feel you would be just fine without Orton’s shoulder there for you. So as I was saying, with the whole distortion thing is that you said you joined Legacy because you have a common goal, and from where I’m standing that common goal looks like my World Title. And if I’m not mistaken, and I rarely am, only one person can hold that title, so unless you people have plans to take turns shining that baby up nice and bright and waving it around for all to see I’m guessing there won’t be much more of a Legacy for you four to hold on to. Just the bitter taste of revenge.”
Parise can’t help but let out another sly smile. He fumbles to get up from his chair but eventually he succeeds. He begins walking away from the chair, but he never strays far from the light the follows him closely.
“Seifer, if you can’t believe and listen to yourself then you can’t listen to anyone, especially not Randy. He’s manipulating you, he doesn’t care about you, he just cares about my title, and once I beat you he thinks he’ll have an easier path, but he’s wrong. See he knows I will win, but he thinks it will come at a price. He overestimates you, Blacke. He thinks I will have to go through some intense psychological warfare to defeat both of your halves, but really a mind undivided is weaker than one full one. You’re just going to make me stronger, and whoever wins Ultimate X will do the same. You know, sometimes I wish Gimmick had never betrayed me, boy it sure would have been fun to knock the crap out of you four night in and night, but no matter, I’ll just have twice the fun doing it by myself.”
Parise can’t help but laugh as he takes a drink from the bottle that has never left his hand. Slowly he places his leg up on the chair that he used to be seated in and curls his head in. He almost looks like he is posing for a sculpture as he continues to speak.
“Is sanity….the price to pay for power? It seems you’re willing to think that. With your manipulative words and false accusations you merely make me laugh. But you’re right, I focus in on my opponent a lot, so much in fact that from an outside perspective it almost seems like I am obsessing. But I take it to a different level, I calculate their every move, I don’t need to hit the gym or take ‘psychological combat classes’, because when I know what you are going to do, I know what I will do. I’m always a step ahead, and you, you focus too much on trying to roundhouse your opponent into the middle of next week that you don’t even stop to try and figure out a game-plan that will allow you to take your game to a whole new level.”
Parise turns his head away from the camera, looking out into the darkness. His shadow is large and only the bottom half can be seen before it becomes engulfed in darkness. Alexander doesn’t turn his head back to the camera but he resumes speaking, not wanting to take to big of a break.
“Blackey, hope you don’t mind if I call you that, but I’m a little tired of Seifer. You said you don’t need your dad; I’m not surprised, because somehow he’s a worse role-model than you. And that bitch you were with, what was it you said; fuck her? Well I hope you don’t mind if I do, I’m sure you couldn’t care less right about now, correct? When you step into the ring, my ring, you better remember that everything outside isn’t fantasy, against me, it’s the most important part. You won’t beat me, Blacke, not with your dim-witted and physical attitude. It’s funny how you cling onto Jimmy Gimmick knocking me out and you falling on top of me for a controversial win, I guess it’s the only thing you’ve got going for yourself right about now. Face it, that Intercontinental has been nothing more than a shiny toy, no one cares what you’re doing with it, no ones to. When I was IC champ people cared, but not with you, you just want people to think that you’re time here in FCW hasn’t been completely wasted…boy that’s gotta be one of the biggest lies you’ve got going!”
Parise laughs as he turns away from the darkness and to the camera. He throws the bottle over his head, and after a moment or two of silence you hear it smash in the distance, and Parise smiles.
“No matter what happens here, at Summer Salvation, and keep in mind that when I say whatever happens I mean I will win, but going beyond that I want you to know that you’re little threat works both ways. I want you to know that I’m making it my mission to wipe out Legacy, I won’t take an easy breath till I know you four are out on your own, and keep in mind that when I say on your own I mean under intensive care. You’ve tried to conquer FCW through and intimidation and violence, and now that’s exactly what I’m gunn’ do to you. You’ve been warned, so bring up that curtain and let the games begin; after all, we’re all here to have fun, aren’t we?”
“Play time.”
Parise smirks once more, his head back in the air, his hands being run through his hair. He looks down at the camera for the first time and claps, and with that clap the spotlight goes out, and the camera shuts off.
(OOC: So this is not one of my better promos, or even a good one at that. I did it late last night and I was already worn out, so anyone his sees any problems constructive criticism is encouraged.)
Alexander Parise is sitting in a large chair. The head rest reaches far up above his own, and the wooden style border reaches far wide of his shoulders. The maroon leather sinks in as Parise leans back, placing both arms on the respective arm rests. With his left hand he takes a swig of the large bottle of scotch that was already there, as if waiting for Alexander. Parise is not in his usual locker room, instead he is inside a large dark room, where the sole spotlight illuminates Alexander ‘The Great’. His hair has been cut since the last time he was seen, and he has clearly not shaved in a while.
“I thought they would be complicated, calculated, devious, and intelligent. But it turns out they’re just cowards. They’re weak. And Seifer, you’re their leader. You’re the biggest coward and the weakest link. You’re futile efforts at trying to be anything more than that has exposed you. Now you don’t try to hide who you are, which in most cases is an admirable quality. But not in yours. Everyone looks at you like a disgusting animal. A dying one at that. You try to shrug it all off with violence, violence that you inflict on others. But no one is amused or entertained watching you kick in skulls in your cheap-ass bars and other places that I don’t care to reference. “
Alexander twisted smile re-emerges and for a moment Parise looks as evil as he did the first time he stepped into FCW. He takes another swig from the bottle and swallows it down, his expression barely changing whilst he continues to talk.
“Seifer, I would like it if you talked to me without being mid-pucker, it kind of distorts what you say. Seifer I don’t care that you feel the need to shove your head so far up Randy’s ass that we have a case of Siamese twins, no, what bothers me is that you feel you would be just fine without Orton’s shoulder there for you. So as I was saying, with the whole distortion thing is that you said you joined Legacy because you have a common goal, and from where I’m standing that common goal looks like my World Title. And if I’m not mistaken, and I rarely am, only one person can hold that title, so unless you people have plans to take turns shining that baby up nice and bright and waving it around for all to see I’m guessing there won’t be much more of a Legacy for you four to hold on to. Just the bitter taste of revenge.”
Parise can’t help but let out another sly smile. He fumbles to get up from his chair but eventually he succeeds. He begins walking away from the chair, but he never strays far from the light the follows him closely.
“Seifer, if you can’t believe and listen to yourself then you can’t listen to anyone, especially not Randy. He’s manipulating you, he doesn’t care about you, he just cares about my title, and once I beat you he thinks he’ll have an easier path, but he’s wrong. See he knows I will win, but he thinks it will come at a price. He overestimates you, Blacke. He thinks I will have to go through some intense psychological warfare to defeat both of your halves, but really a mind undivided is weaker than one full one. You’re just going to make me stronger, and whoever wins Ultimate X will do the same. You know, sometimes I wish Gimmick had never betrayed me, boy it sure would have been fun to knock the crap out of you four night in and night, but no matter, I’ll just have twice the fun doing it by myself.”
Parise can’t help but laugh as he takes a drink from the bottle that has never left his hand. Slowly he places his leg up on the chair that he used to be seated in and curls his head in. He almost looks like he is posing for a sculpture as he continues to speak.
“Is sanity….the price to pay for power? It seems you’re willing to think that. With your manipulative words and false accusations you merely make me laugh. But you’re right, I focus in on my opponent a lot, so much in fact that from an outside perspective it almost seems like I am obsessing. But I take it to a different level, I calculate their every move, I don’t need to hit the gym or take ‘psychological combat classes’, because when I know what you are going to do, I know what I will do. I’m always a step ahead, and you, you focus too much on trying to roundhouse your opponent into the middle of next week that you don’t even stop to try and figure out a game-plan that will allow you to take your game to a whole new level.”
Parise turns his head away from the camera, looking out into the darkness. His shadow is large and only the bottom half can be seen before it becomes engulfed in darkness. Alexander doesn’t turn his head back to the camera but he resumes speaking, not wanting to take to big of a break.
“Blackey, hope you don’t mind if I call you that, but I’m a little tired of Seifer. You said you don’t need your dad; I’m not surprised, because somehow he’s a worse role-model than you. And that bitch you were with, what was it you said; fuck her? Well I hope you don’t mind if I do, I’m sure you couldn’t care less right about now, correct? When you step into the ring, my ring, you better remember that everything outside isn’t fantasy, against me, it’s the most important part. You won’t beat me, Blacke, not with your dim-witted and physical attitude. It’s funny how you cling onto Jimmy Gimmick knocking me out and you falling on top of me for a controversial win, I guess it’s the only thing you’ve got going for yourself right about now. Face it, that Intercontinental has been nothing more than a shiny toy, no one cares what you’re doing with it, no ones to. When I was IC champ people cared, but not with you, you just want people to think that you’re time here in FCW hasn’t been completely wasted…boy that’s gotta be one of the biggest lies you’ve got going!”
Parise laughs as he turns away from the darkness and to the camera. He throws the bottle over his head, and after a moment or two of silence you hear it smash in the distance, and Parise smiles.
“No matter what happens here, at Summer Salvation, and keep in mind that when I say whatever happens I mean I will win, but going beyond that I want you to know that you’re little threat works both ways. I want you to know that I’m making it my mission to wipe out Legacy, I won’t take an easy breath till I know you four are out on your own, and keep in mind that when I say on your own I mean under intensive care. You’ve tried to conquer FCW through and intimidation and violence, and now that’s exactly what I’m gunn’ do to you. You’ve been warned, so bring up that curtain and let the games begin; after all, we’re all here to have fun, aren’t we?”
“Play time.”
Parise smirks once more, his head back in the air, his hands being run through his hair. He looks down at the camera for the first time and claps, and with that clap the spotlight goes out, and the camera shuts off.
(OOC: So this is not one of my better promos, or even a good one at that. I did it late last night and I was already worn out, so anyone his sees any problems constructive criticism is encouraged.)
