Post by TJ Raven on Jul 16, 2009 18:28:59 GMT -5
//Open scene on a pair of black jump boots propped up on a table top. Panning from the boots we come to a pair of baggy urban camo pants that span a set of legs, a black tanktop that drapes the defined torso of our subject and finally to the face of TJ Raven, hair spiky as usual and face sporting a couple days of stubble.
He doesn't acknowledge the camera, only stares with concentration at a piece of paper he holds in a hand. His other hand holding a cigar that he occasionally takes a puff from.
Without a word he takes the cigar and burns two holes into the paper, and blows lightly on the paper to extinguish any embers that might be getting the idea to burn more than the round holes they were meant to.
With a smile TJ turns the paper toward the camera. It's a picture of himself. Years younger than he is now. Dark black hair cascading over his face, clean shaven and the overall demeanor of undirected insanity as he coddles a barbed wire baseball bat close to his face.
The 2 cigar burns have eliminated the eyes, so exactly what they would have said is unknown but we can somewhat date the photo as probably from 2003 given the CWF logo that is printed in the lower right hand corner and just given the general appearance of TJ himself in it.
Turning the photo back to himself he smirks and shakes his head lightly from side to side. Now he places the photo up to his own face, looking out through the burns he had made. The eyes of a 32 year old man glaring out from the face of a 26 year old vagrant\\
Touch. One of our most prized senses. The sweet caress from a woman's touch, the seering pain from being burned by fire, the tearing rip of barbed wire scraped against flesh.
//TJ lowers the picture and places it on the table top, returning to his previous posture he flicks the cigar he had been carrying his free hand and again addresses the camera\\
And touch can so easily be tied in to relativity. A single second of having your hand on a top stove can keep like an eternity, a night of unbridled passion with a woman you love can seem like it's over in the blink of an eye... A match, since that's what we're really here to tie this all into. A timespan that at the max would probably be 30 minutes. How will it play out. Quick? Painless? Over before you know it? Doubtful. I anticipate the match of the evening out of Mr. Steele, with a possible interfere from aMr. Smith because now he's reverted back to the tired old track of "The Dark Soul"
//TJ rolls his eyes after the mention of Travis Smith's other persona all while motioning his hand in a manner that might indicate he's beating off.
Stopping that, TJ sits up straight in his seat and retrieves a package from under his chair. Plopping a rather large leg of some sort on the table top, a small pool of blood spatters on TJ's old photograph, and one last time under the seat, TJ returns holding a butcher knife. With a smirk TJ looks again to the camera\\
But one thing I think I failed to mention last time. I told everyone that sound can break anything. Even steel, but here's the thing about steel, if you're not careful...
//TJ raises the knife and brings it down in a bone splitting thunk onto the tabletop. The knife now most of the way through the slab of meat that occupies the tabletop real estate\\
If you're not careful. It can cut straight to the bone. Straight through in some cases, but here's the thing. It's not so much the steel that's dangerous
//TJ again goes under his seat and this time returns with a replica of the first knife\\
It's the edge that is. Hold to equalize it? Simple. Take off the edge
//TJ holds out his own arm and lowers the new knife down with force. Nothing. No cutting. No scream of pain. Nothing to indicate a destructive force. TJ raises the knife and all we see is a pale line that mirror where the blade had just fallen\\
So the equalizer is simple. Remove the edge. No fuss. No muss.
This it seems is actually not as difficult as I had expected. The barbs that I thought I was going to be dodging from Steele were far less than feared. Steele sees himself as the ultimate whipping boy. Climbing and clawing his way up the mountaintop. In fact fighting with every fiber of his being just for a right to even try to navigate the mountain trail, let alone conquer the peak. All while I sat and squandered talent and missed opportunities. The stinging of that might've driven a lesser man than Steele to the point of insanity, but it didn't. Instead he tried harder, but here's the thing. Steele planned these words to inflict damage to my game plan. The first ding in my armor.
//TJ flashes a devilish smirk at the camera\\
That's not the effect it had. Do you think for one second I don't see the waste of opportunities past? I'd have to be blind to not. To look at me and to look at him
//TJ points at the picture that still sits under the leg still collecting blood on it's glossy surface\\
To look at him and to even fathom that he & I are the same animal is ridiculous. Survival of the fittest and to even begin to think that that cretin is anywhere close to the specimen that speaks to you today is ludicrous. It's laughable, and just in so many ways wrong. The worst part is you thought you were telling me something I didn't already know. You assumed you were coming armed with a razor sharp wit, instead it was like whipping me with overcooked spaghetti. Think I'm just trying to take the wind out of your sails? A fair excuse, so allow me to cut that down before you even try it. Ask Matt Thornhill why I trained with him all those years ago. Why I asked to become his pupil. I saw the writing on the wall. That the hardcore sector of this sport was becoming more and more of a joke. Irony when you consider the belt I now hold, but I saw that pigeonholing myself into that niche would only allow me to go so far.
//TJ picks up the second knife and holds it in his hands\\
I'd like to tell you that you delivered well for this go round Gabo but I'm afraid when it's all said and done, your Steele will be like this steel. Looks scary... but in reality it's pretty much harmless. I'll see ya at Wrestleution.
TJ turns the knife over and over in his hands before discarding it with a clatter as it hits the ground and we FTB\\
He doesn't acknowledge the camera, only stares with concentration at a piece of paper he holds in a hand. His other hand holding a cigar that he occasionally takes a puff from.
Without a word he takes the cigar and burns two holes into the paper, and blows lightly on the paper to extinguish any embers that might be getting the idea to burn more than the round holes they were meant to.
With a smile TJ turns the paper toward the camera. It's a picture of himself. Years younger than he is now. Dark black hair cascading over his face, clean shaven and the overall demeanor of undirected insanity as he coddles a barbed wire baseball bat close to his face.
The 2 cigar burns have eliminated the eyes, so exactly what they would have said is unknown but we can somewhat date the photo as probably from 2003 given the CWF logo that is printed in the lower right hand corner and just given the general appearance of TJ himself in it.
Turning the photo back to himself he smirks and shakes his head lightly from side to side. Now he places the photo up to his own face, looking out through the burns he had made. The eyes of a 32 year old man glaring out from the face of a 26 year old vagrant\\
Touch. One of our most prized senses. The sweet caress from a woman's touch, the seering pain from being burned by fire, the tearing rip of barbed wire scraped against flesh.
//TJ lowers the picture and places it on the table top, returning to his previous posture he flicks the cigar he had been carrying his free hand and again addresses the camera\\
And touch can so easily be tied in to relativity. A single second of having your hand on a top stove can keep like an eternity, a night of unbridled passion with a woman you love can seem like it's over in the blink of an eye... A match, since that's what we're really here to tie this all into. A timespan that at the max would probably be 30 minutes. How will it play out. Quick? Painless? Over before you know it? Doubtful. I anticipate the match of the evening out of Mr. Steele, with a possible interfere from aMr. Smith because now he's reverted back to the tired old track of "The Dark Soul"
//TJ rolls his eyes after the mention of Travis Smith's other persona all while motioning his hand in a manner that might indicate he's beating off.
Stopping that, TJ sits up straight in his seat and retrieves a package from under his chair. Plopping a rather large leg of some sort on the table top, a small pool of blood spatters on TJ's old photograph, and one last time under the seat, TJ returns holding a butcher knife. With a smirk TJ looks again to the camera\\
But one thing I think I failed to mention last time. I told everyone that sound can break anything. Even steel, but here's the thing about steel, if you're not careful...
//TJ raises the knife and brings it down in a bone splitting thunk onto the tabletop. The knife now most of the way through the slab of meat that occupies the tabletop real estate\\
If you're not careful. It can cut straight to the bone. Straight through in some cases, but here's the thing. It's not so much the steel that's dangerous
//TJ again goes under his seat and this time returns with a replica of the first knife\\
It's the edge that is. Hold to equalize it? Simple. Take off the edge
//TJ holds out his own arm and lowers the new knife down with force. Nothing. No cutting. No scream of pain. Nothing to indicate a destructive force. TJ raises the knife and all we see is a pale line that mirror where the blade had just fallen\\
So the equalizer is simple. Remove the edge. No fuss. No muss.
This it seems is actually not as difficult as I had expected. The barbs that I thought I was going to be dodging from Steele were far less than feared. Steele sees himself as the ultimate whipping boy. Climbing and clawing his way up the mountaintop. In fact fighting with every fiber of his being just for a right to even try to navigate the mountain trail, let alone conquer the peak. All while I sat and squandered talent and missed opportunities. The stinging of that might've driven a lesser man than Steele to the point of insanity, but it didn't. Instead he tried harder, but here's the thing. Steele planned these words to inflict damage to my game plan. The first ding in my armor.
//TJ flashes a devilish smirk at the camera\\
That's not the effect it had. Do you think for one second I don't see the waste of opportunities past? I'd have to be blind to not. To look at me and to look at him
//TJ points at the picture that still sits under the leg still collecting blood on it's glossy surface\\
To look at him and to even fathom that he & I are the same animal is ridiculous. Survival of the fittest and to even begin to think that that cretin is anywhere close to the specimen that speaks to you today is ludicrous. It's laughable, and just in so many ways wrong. The worst part is you thought you were telling me something I didn't already know. You assumed you were coming armed with a razor sharp wit, instead it was like whipping me with overcooked spaghetti. Think I'm just trying to take the wind out of your sails? A fair excuse, so allow me to cut that down before you even try it. Ask Matt Thornhill why I trained with him all those years ago. Why I asked to become his pupil. I saw the writing on the wall. That the hardcore sector of this sport was becoming more and more of a joke. Irony when you consider the belt I now hold, but I saw that pigeonholing myself into that niche would only allow me to go so far.
//TJ picks up the second knife and holds it in his hands\\
I'd like to tell you that you delivered well for this go round Gabo but I'm afraid when it's all said and done, your Steele will be like this steel. Looks scary... but in reality it's pretty much harmless. I'll see ya at Wrestleution.
TJ turns the knife over and over in his hands before discarding it with a clatter as it hits the ground and we FTB\\