The Grand Welcoming.... of The Mega Heel [post FLA]
Aug 2, 2017 19:47:19 GMT -5
The Chupster likes this
Post by GFY on Aug 2, 2017 19:47:19 GMT -5
As the show winds down, and all the post event interviews have been conducted, the feed to the broadcast cuts out and flashes static quickly twice. When the stream returns, it's brought to a different scene, in a different location from the arena. It's set in a lavished room, decorated to the nines with expensive floor rugs, beautiful furniture and a statue of a long haired man with a slight beard. The figure had his arms raised in victory. The wrestling ring gear was the real telling sign of what the statue was capturing, a shot from a wrestling match.
The camera pans to the same man sitting on a throne, his right foot resting on his left knee. The aviator sunglasses, the v-neck T shirt covered by a white puffy vest, and the tattered jeans with the knee holes. It was apparent that this guy was really into himself just by first glance.
The man runs his fingers through the scruff on his cheeks before muttering
I'm here, fellas. I'm really, really here.
He removes his shades and hooks the temple of the glasses to the collar of his shirt. With one quick head movement he flicks his hair out of his face. He smiles a bright, white smile.
Ladies and gentlemen, I feel the need to introduce myself. I'm Jay O'Neil. But I'm not just Jay O'Neil, no no. I think we can all agree on that being too plain Jane. On the independent circuit I earned the name "Mega Heel", and I embraced it with open arms. I don't need to talk about how or why, because I'll show you. There's no fun in spoiled surprises, you see.
I don't need, I don't want, I don't like your support. Management might not like this next one, but here she goes. Don't buy my fucking shirt. Don't let your kid wear my fucking shirt, they'll be too stupid to get it anyways. Don't hold up a sign with my name on it. Don't chant my name. You don't gotta, you won't wanna.
I'm gunning for that number one spot, and earning every accolade you can dream of while I'm at it. That World Championship? Look out, Justin Case. I'll whoop you like your papa shoulda, your grand daddy woulda, but know you'll feel it like only I could provide it. Jussssst in Case you haven't pieced the puzzle together here, brother, I'll spell it out for ya. You're the top doggity-dog now, and the top dog only stays the top dog by fending off the young pup who's had his first taste of T-bone. That belt, bucko? That's a might fine cut of steak. Shame if ya lost it to... a rook?
But no no no no no.... Rookies don't just get that top spot, do they? They gotta... "EARN" it. Ya ya, I get it. We're scared the new guy walks in and takes over. That's all fine and jolly, people. If you need me to get the one, the two, the three on Leviathan? Done, sealed, delivered. You need a new US Champion? You got it.
Fuck, I'll mow down a hoe down and take out Sarah Locke if I so desire.
Jay grips the collar of his vest and "pops" it, just adding extra effect to the douche bag look. He flips his hair back one more time before standing from the throne he was parked in. He takes one step closer to the camera, reaching out of the frame to retrieve a pry bar. The Mega Heel leans on it like a walking cane before calmly stating:
I ain't much for the hardcore stuff....
Jay takes his weight off of it and twirls it around in the air.
But I am big into the game of winning, however that may be... You want the Mega Heel to go X-Violence...? Ya you can forget it. I do this shit on my terms, when I want to play ball. My face is too golden to get thwacked... But ya'll? You could all afford another bumpin'.
You know what else, OCW? Wanna hear something else golden?
I'll see you real soon
With that, the twirling pry bar comes crashing down on the recording device that was streaming the feed. The scene comes to an end with a blur of snowy static.
The camera pans to the same man sitting on a throne, his right foot resting on his left knee. The aviator sunglasses, the v-neck T shirt covered by a white puffy vest, and the tattered jeans with the knee holes. It was apparent that this guy was really into himself just by first glance.
The man runs his fingers through the scruff on his cheeks before muttering
I'm here, fellas. I'm really, really here.
He removes his shades and hooks the temple of the glasses to the collar of his shirt. With one quick head movement he flicks his hair out of his face. He smiles a bright, white smile.
Ladies and gentlemen, I feel the need to introduce myself. I'm Jay O'Neil. But I'm not just Jay O'Neil, no no. I think we can all agree on that being too plain Jane. On the independent circuit I earned the name "Mega Heel", and I embraced it with open arms. I don't need to talk about how or why, because I'll show you. There's no fun in spoiled surprises, you see.
I don't need, I don't want, I don't like your support. Management might not like this next one, but here she goes. Don't buy my fucking shirt. Don't let your kid wear my fucking shirt, they'll be too stupid to get it anyways. Don't hold up a sign with my name on it. Don't chant my name. You don't gotta, you won't wanna.
I'm gunning for that number one spot, and earning every accolade you can dream of while I'm at it. That World Championship? Look out, Justin Case. I'll whoop you like your papa shoulda, your grand daddy woulda, but know you'll feel it like only I could provide it. Jussssst in Case you haven't pieced the puzzle together here, brother, I'll spell it out for ya. You're the top doggity-dog now, and the top dog only stays the top dog by fending off the young pup who's had his first taste of T-bone. That belt, bucko? That's a might fine cut of steak. Shame if ya lost it to... a rook?
But no no no no no.... Rookies don't just get that top spot, do they? They gotta... "EARN" it. Ya ya, I get it. We're scared the new guy walks in and takes over. That's all fine and jolly, people. If you need me to get the one, the two, the three on Leviathan? Done, sealed, delivered. You need a new US Champion? You got it.
Fuck, I'll mow down a hoe down and take out Sarah Locke if I so desire.
Jay grips the collar of his vest and "pops" it, just adding extra effect to the douche bag look. He flips his hair back one more time before standing from the throne he was parked in. He takes one step closer to the camera, reaching out of the frame to retrieve a pry bar. The Mega Heel leans on it like a walking cane before calmly stating:
I ain't much for the hardcore stuff....
Jay takes his weight off of it and twirls it around in the air.
But I am big into the game of winning, however that may be... You want the Mega Heel to go X-Violence...? Ya you can forget it. I do this shit on my terms, when I want to play ball. My face is too golden to get thwacked... But ya'll? You could all afford another bumpin'.
You know what else, OCW? Wanna hear something else golden?
I'll see you real soon
With that, the twirling pry bar comes crashing down on the recording device that was streaming the feed. The scene comes to an end with a blur of snowy static.