Shameless Plug: V. 2

[Guest Drew_K]

Ksshhhhhzzzzzzzzzffffttttt……

 

Click…..

 

The image on your TV screen changes, a small dot of white light appearing in the center screen, and expanding outwards to replace the static, revealing three letters on a black background.

 

S.W.F.

 

These letters fade slowly, and, just as they disappear, three new letters appear in their place.

 

C.I.A.

 

Silently, these letters fade as well, and the shot fills with an empty locker room, poster on the back wall advertising the new ‘Legacy of the Carnival’ DVD box set. A figure enters the shot, turned away from the camera, purple hoodie hanging off his shoulders, hood back, blond hair hanging down behind him in waves. Reaching up, the figure places something on his unseen face, And draws back a leather strap on both sides, clipping his mask in place. He begins to speak as he tugs back the top straps, preparing to clip them to the fastening ring now settled at the back of his head.

 

“Well, well, well, Dace Night. Horrorcore. I must say, I enjoyed your home video. Hell, I gotta be honest, eh. I pretty much always get a kick out of seeing you on TV. You’ve got a presence, Night. There’s an aura of danger around you that just gets my adrenaline pumping. Now, I’ve never been one to shy away from stealing a good idea, eh, so I thought I’d give you a shout out in the same fashion.”

 

Turning around, CIA faces the camera, his mask firmly in place on his face, a few small changes immediately noticeable. At the bottom of the red half of the maple leaf, the flat endge no longer ends the material, instead, red droplets, which could only symbolize dripping blood, seem to hang down over CIA’s chin and face. Taking away from the darkness of this change is the bright smile on CIA’s face, and the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

 

“Was your little speech frightening, Dace? Am I afraid? You’re damn right I am. Do you think I want to step in that ring with you, to face down your weedwhacker, your hardcore innovations, eh? Hell no. I’d probably much rather sit at home, drink an ice-cold beer, and watch you destroy some poor JL bumpee. Welcome to the big show, right, Horrorcore? But then, you’ve gotta ask yourself, why am I smiling, Dace Night. Why does that Crazy Canadian look pleased?”

 

CIA pulls a chair to himself, and sits down in front of the camera, adjusting the shot down lower. Reaching to his side, CIA grabs a duffel bag, pulling it onto his lap. With a playful smirk, the Canadian begins rummaging through the bag, the side of which has the words ‘Hardcore bag o’ tricks’ sewn on in thick fabric, shaped like strands of barbed wire. With a chuckle, CIA pulls out an icepick, with a dangling tag that says ‘Property of Durandal’, and swiftly throws it aside to clatter on the floor.

 

“I’m pleased, Dace, cause those fans out there want to see the HIGH PRIEST OF HORRORCORE. I’m pleased cause I can be the superman who takes that asskicking, And I know you can take it just as bad as I can, and everyone in that audience will scream for more, eh! I’m pleased cause you’re not the only one with toys to bring to bear. Steel chairs? Played out. Beltshots? Nowhere near enough. It’s time to build a medical history, Dace. It’s time we frightened health insurance providers away from the SWF forever and a day. It’s time we stepped into that ring, and we fight, not till one of us bleeds, cause that won’t take long. We fight, not till one of us can’t throw his opponent off, cause that would be too easy, too little for all the fans of Hardcore. We fight till one man can’t stand up anymore, Night. Will it be me? Will it be you?”

 

CIA smiles, and pulls a curling stone out of his ‘Bag of tricks’, surface polished to a high gloss, stone looking like it weighs at least fifteen pounds. Smiling, CIA sets that aside, too, and turns back to the camera, tossing the bag aside so it hits the floor with a rattling of metal against metal, echoing emptily in the locker room. Leaning down, he reaches to the other side of himself, grabbing one more thing. Standing up tall, the camera focuses on the Canadian’s chest, just as he brings the object in front of his chest, a hockey stick, not wood, but gleaming metal, curved end wrapped not in tape, but tightly in barbed wire.

 

“I don’t know, Dace. It’s time for you to slice and dice me, and for me to fight back as best I can. I’m not gonna make it easy for you, Dace. But afterwards, one of us can stand tall with that belt, and know we’ve given the fans the best hardcore show they’ve ever seen. If you feel like it, I’ll have a cold beer in the backstage for you, right next to the one that’ll be waiting for me. Win, or lose, Horrorcore, I know you’re gonna make those fans happy. And that makes me happy. So yeah, I’m afraid. But that doesn’t mean I’m not ready for you Dace. See you on Sunday.”

 

Leaning down into the camera, CIA’s face once more bears his ever-present smirk, and the picture blinks out, cutting to a screen filled with static, and a voice over, professional sounding announcer ringing out over the fizzle of the static.

 

“Once again, this has been a blatant shill for CIA versus Dace ‘Horrorcore’ Night at the SWF’s 13th hour, only available on PPV. Two men, one title, copious amounts of blood loss. Order now through your cable or satellite provider!”

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

"It's time to build a medical history" is my favorite line in a while. In addition, I want a copy of the Carnie DVD set, and am utterly mystified as to why it looks you're going to use curling equipment on Dace. You are a strange creature, but I like it. Nice hype job, Canuck.

[Guest Powerplay]

GOD DAMN IT! Edwin got to it first. Anyways, rockin' promo. The intro with the mask being put on is just great, and the whole speech was great itself was great. There are few people who can really put over the other guy in a promo without looking weak, and damned if you both didn't come out of that looking great.

 

Edwin: Canada is like one of 3 countries that actually airs competitive Curling every now and then.

 

And CIA... Can I interest you in a 3 inch thick course packet on HIS 279: European Communism? It weighs a good 5 pounds and it'll knock a guy out like a sonuvabitch.

[Guest Suicide King]

Two thumbs way up. I'd love to see more hype from people, as long as it doesn't interfere with their match-writing.

[Guest Dace59]

I think everyone really got the wrong end of the stick about the weedwhacker line.

 

Other than that, this is gonna be an awesome match.

[Guest realitycheck]

For the record, Edwin, Drew, curling rocks weigh about thirty-five pounds of sheer granite. Only the pussy little-kid stones weight 15 pounds.

 

...yes, I know this because I actually used to play. Shut up.

 

Regardless, nice one, man. I had a chuckle at the icepick bit.

 

-Z