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Angel of the Deathmatch
Topic Started: Jun 3 2005, 07:39 PM (42 Views)
xwca
Unregistered

A bottle of cool and fresh mineral water is all we see being downed by a visibly thirsty and obviously deranged Irishman in the form of Toan who as we zoom out is still in his ring attire.

Obviously we’re just coming in from Toan win at the latest edition of Slam so Toan’s face is still red from the energy dissipated from that mad brawl he and Kain had so Toan takes the liberty of pouring a fair amount of the remaining ice water over his head. He exhales lightly as he starts to gather his thoughts…

Toan: You’ve all heard that phrase before… “If a tree falls in the wood and nobody is around to hear it, what sound does it make?”

We all know it as being a question without an answer but recently I’ve come up with a question of my own… if a tree hits a mime in the middle of the wood and nobody is around to hear it... does anyone care?


Toan briefly looks down and smiles

Toan: Now if I were that mime I wouldn’t be thinking about whether anyone cares about me… I’d more be caring about if I cared for myself.

Just think about it… if you don’t care for yourself. Actually, I should say if you don’t care about your own body what is going to happen? You’re going to be an extremely dangerous individual who goes about the place with a great deal of reckless abandonment.

And from what people have seen of me in the past… that’s just what I am. A recklessly dangerous individual with nothing to lose and everything to gain. Especially since I’ve been put in this tournament which, at the Summer of Sin, will all come to an end in a three-way Deathmatch with two other guys standing between me and the Extreme Chaos Championship.


Toan sweeps back his bleached crimson locks as the water drips off heavily over his brow

Toan: Those other guys… D-Dogg and Kain… are only young guys who have minimal experience in these kinds of matches. I mean, at most they’ve got to be no older than twenty-two or twenty-three and already they want to make a name for themselves by giving a real shock to their systems and doing these kinds of matches that for the last decade I’ve done.

Not meaning to sound hypocritical but shouldn’t you work your way up and get used to the level of ultraviolence I do rather than jump right into an empty pool so to speak?

I say this cause when I first started wrestling it took me ages to get used to taking the punishment that professional wrestling and especially hardcore professional wrestling consists of. During my rookie years the bookers thought it’d be funny to put me against the massive powerhouses and the like… being very skinny at that time I didn’t really stand a chance against them except for the occasional lucky spot where I’d manage to get a sleeper hold on or something.

In some ways it was cruel of them but in other ways it toughened me up when I was cutting my teeth in this sport.


Toan looks down and emits a quiet chuckle before looking back to the camera, his eyes glaring with the fire of a mad man’s

Toan: But it’s so different these days… these days all you need to be a successfully wrestler is have the right connections and viola… you’re the champ no matter how much of a weedy bastard you are.

See, the way I see it professional wrestling is becoming so much like professional boxing in the form that politics play a heavy part in it. Examples are one guy has connections to the mafia and they don’t want to lose so they use some of their backup to make sure that he stays the champ or one guy doesn’t want other to grow strong enough to face him so he has the other guy buried in the bottom rankings for the rest of his career.

It’s pretty common and as a matter of fact I was once the victim of politics in wrestling before. I was kept back because they way I see it… I was potentially dangerous in the ring because I know how to dismantle any wrestler part by part and bit by bit no matter what size or strength they have.

It’s the benefits of constantly learning new things in this sport, you know?


He quaintly raises his eyebrows as a joker’s smile creeps across the face of the Crimson King

Toan: One particular incident was in this lesser promotion which doesn’t deserve to be named was where I had a problem with this cocky nineteen-year old who had the boss wrapped around his finger to the point that, despite him only having at most a year’s experience, he was given the World Heavyweight Title on a silver platter.

Now, the problem I had with him was extremely immature. He pulled childish pranks and called names to me as well as calling me a “garbage” wrestler.

So, naturally I wasn’t going to stand for it so I asked him if he’d like to put his money where his mouth was and face me in a match. He declined stating that he could beat me too easy.

Though I should point out that he was a scrawny motherfucker with lanky arms and a pot-belly. To be honest I think the only workout he ever did was lifting the remote controller for his TV/DVD combo which he probably used to watch Japanese tentacle rape cartoons in his basement whilst his mother did laundry.

I asked the bookers to have me in a match but they said, “No, we’re gonna keep you where you are at the moment.”

So, I went to the next level and started calling him out, telling him what I thought of him saying stuff like he’s a spoilt mama’s boy who’s only sexual experience was that with his stuffed panda.


Toan lets out a hearty snigger as he just shrugs his pale-skinned shoulders

Toan: I don’t know… I probably was drunk coming into the match and decided to do that promo on him but as soon as I got to the back I was told not to do that again. Then what happens? The little bastard gets on the stick and calls me a… what was it he called me? A “faggy goth kid” or something to that extent if I remember right.

Kid? I’m old enough to be his dad and he calls me “kid?”

Am I the only one that finds it really funny that the guy was not only an infantile little shit but also a complete and utter retard?

No, now disrespect towards D-Dogg or Kain cause I like them better than I like that bony-arsed cunt but in a way they kind of have of the same egotism about themselves. It’s the same with societies elitists and the whole system of treating people like second-class citizens.

Back in England we have a group of people called “chavs” who basically are white Brits who go around in Burberry caps, lots of cheap jewellery and listen to fake rap bands. I call them fake as if you think about it… nobody is going to rap about how they killed someone and got away with it as that’d basically mean you just shot yourself in the foot.

In my day it was the punks that looked down on the Goths… these days it’s chavs and wankstas that look down on me.


Toan cocks his head to one side still with that sadistically sick grin sketched on him above his scarred brow

Toan: Kain… D-Dogg… I hope to God you both bring all the tricks in your arsenals in this one. I hope that you bring every hold you’ve ever learned and do your best to apply them on me and each other. I hope that you leave nothing in the locker room as I guarantee to you… I will not stop, I will not rest, I will not quit until both of you are laid out and I’m the one holding the gold.

So Kain and D-Dogg… I know both of you want your first taste of singles gold bad. Well, I make a promise to you from the deepest crevices of my heart… if you want that title so badly you’d better be ready to take a step up the ladder and be ready to fucking kill me!!

Because I will drag you both kicking, screaming, bleeding and dying until my legs give out and I have nothing more to do than the slip away into the great beyond. And I except nothing less from either of you two neither!

You know… as of this date nobody has ever died in a Deathmatch.


Toan lets out a sinister chuckle as touched flare ignites in his eyes

Toan: Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?

Stay sharp…


And we fade to black
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