Post by ~Sylas F'n Styles~ on Mar 1, 2006 12:46:27 GMT -5
Sylas is sittng back alone in his locker room, reviewing tapes from the latest episodes of Overdrive and Adrenalin
Sylas: Wow, nothing new, same old shit just a different mouth from which the words do spew. The legends need to retire, the old guys need to quit. Well, your half right about me, Legend, I am. Old, I am not. I'm still only 24 years old in this body you ingrates. You would think that after the accomplishments I have attained world wide working for anyone willing to sacrafice their roster, that people like Nate Strong and Blackmoon would pay attention to detail rather then their own genital worship.
If you two are any example of what this company is, then I don't wanna be here. I can go wrestle with egos for more money elsewhere, I don't need to sit here and wallow with you bottom feeders like others who are in need of work do.
If your going to toss insults and repetitive cliche's to prod the likes of myself or Sean Callous into paying attention, grow some balls and call us out for matches, not bait us into challenging you. Your the ones with shit to prove not us. So bang bang goes the man with the gun
He sits back in his chair and ponders quickly
Sylas: Now, suffering from my own self illusionment of pain and torture, future sufferings and the extreme blood letting of things to come, I fell short of my own expectations. Something I cannot afford to do if I'm to be apart of the coming downfall of many. I see many old faces returning and a few new ones seeking the darkness within the light. Chris wallace has taken his throne once more and is sure to devour a few infidels before anyone will even succeed in slowing down the destruction.
Perhaps my dementia has done more to me then force me to look more and more like my former foe...while I do think it does wonders for the percieving eye, it might also drag me back into that war, but a war could be just what the doctor ordered.
Oh how I must medicate this disease that afflicts me, or sickness will truly be mine...
He lowers his head into his hands a half grin, half frown on his painted face
Sylas: Wow, nothing new, same old shit just a different mouth from which the words do spew. The legends need to retire, the old guys need to quit. Well, your half right about me, Legend, I am. Old, I am not. I'm still only 24 years old in this body you ingrates. You would think that after the accomplishments I have attained world wide working for anyone willing to sacrafice their roster, that people like Nate Strong and Blackmoon would pay attention to detail rather then their own genital worship.
If you two are any example of what this company is, then I don't wanna be here. I can go wrestle with egos for more money elsewhere, I don't need to sit here and wallow with you bottom feeders like others who are in need of work do.
If your going to toss insults and repetitive cliche's to prod the likes of myself or Sean Callous into paying attention, grow some balls and call us out for matches, not bait us into challenging you. Your the ones with shit to prove not us. So bang bang goes the man with the gun
He sits back in his chair and ponders quickly
Sylas: Now, suffering from my own self illusionment of pain and torture, future sufferings and the extreme blood letting of things to come, I fell short of my own expectations. Something I cannot afford to do if I'm to be apart of the coming downfall of many. I see many old faces returning and a few new ones seeking the darkness within the light. Chris wallace has taken his throne once more and is sure to devour a few infidels before anyone will even succeed in slowing down the destruction.
Perhaps my dementia has done more to me then force me to look more and more like my former foe...while I do think it does wonders for the percieving eye, it might also drag me back into that war, but a war could be just what the doctor ordered.
Oh how I must medicate this disease that afflicts me, or sickness will truly be mine...
He lowers his head into his hands a half grin, half frown on his painted face
