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| NICK ALLEN VIDEO BLOG - 09/04/08 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 9 2008, 10:32 PM (51 Views) | |
| Spann | Apr 9 2008, 10:32 PM Post #1 |
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I'm just a soldier. I'm not worthy.
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Our scene opens in a dark, nondescript room, lit by a single bare bulb that hangs morosely from the ceiling, swinging gently in an unseen breeze. The walls are grey, the paint cracked and peeling, and the floor consists solely of uncovered concrete. It is safe to assume that we are in the basement of a building. The only decoration, or indeed, object, in the room is a steel folding chair, the type that guys quite regularly wrap around each other's heads during FIW shows. However, the differences between those chairs and this one are twofold: One, this one is set up, ready to be sat on, and two, Nick Allen is sat on it. Nick: Let's skip the bullshit. Let's skip the niceties, the sugar coating and the lies, 'cuz frankly it's making me sick. I don't know if you've noticed, but the last couple weeks haven't been too good for Nick Allen, especially considering the run I was having pre- Anarchy in the UK. That night, not only did I have to admit defeat to Prime once again, but I became associated with some cheap punk who thinks he can attack a girl with a chain. Now, I know a lot's been said about how I'm a hypocrite, that I'm perfectly happy to put the boots to Kennedy while preaching against violence towards women, but I'd just like to clear something up. Kennedy and I were both in an athletic competition that we signed for, we obeyed the rules, tested our strength, speed, stamina... all these things, until one of us came up the winner, and it so happens it was her. I lost, and I can deal with that. That's just the way things go. What I didn't do, though, was come stomping down to the ring during a match I had no part in, strike her from behind with a weapon, then try and choke her to death. Now, if you people out there honestly can't see the difference between those two things, then God help me, there's no hope for humans as a species. Nick cricks his neck, scratches the back of his head, and continues. Nick: And now I've gotta team up with the guy who did this to Jaime. The guy who I made my feelings for quite clear to last week. And frankly, I'm concerned. I don't know if I'm going into this match as part of a team, or whether it's gonna wind up being some cruel three-on-one. I'm wondering what made me ever agree to become a part of Kitten's little gang, what made me enter into this obscene agreement wherein Jay and I are left every week with absolutely no clue of where we stand with the guy. At the moment I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him, and I'm meant to be his partner this week? Jesus, gimme a break. The only glimmer of hope, certainly from where I'm standing, is that Prime and Kennedy ain't exactly gettin' on at the moment; Thinking about it, Ms. Sommers is in about the situation as myself: She's gotta take on me and the guy who tried to put one of her friends in a box, while keeping one eye on the guy that took her out last week, her apparent 'co-champion', my friend and yours, Prime. The tone in which Nick says the man's name indicates that there is still some dislike towards him on Allen's part. Some frustration that week after week, this man has bettered him. Regardless of his extra training, his body breaking workouts, and intensive scheme of wrestling classes, still he cannot fell one of the biggest trees in FIW, and this is clearly getting to a man who isn't used to losing fights, let alone two, three times to the same guy. Nick: Now, I know that mine and Prime's relationship is well documented, and I'm even willing to admit that this man may well be my physical equal, hell, maybe even my physical better, and I have to accept that I may never beat him, at least not to a clean finish. However, I find the fact that he is callous enough to strike down his friend and partner and leave her dead in the water utterly deplorable, and as a result... The game's back on, big boy. Nick stretches his arms behind his head, a sign of him thinking, for a second or two before he goes on... Nick: In fact, the more I think about it, the more this match seems more like a four way brawl, with the pretence of team work crudely tacked on to it. Kennedy and Prime have issues, Kennedy and Kitten have issues, Kitten and Prime have had issues since... forever, Me and Kitten have issues, and me and Prime have a score to settle too. A short snort of laughter causes Nick's chest to convulse momentarily. Nick: Fair play, whoever booked this one is one shrewd son of a gun. They know it's gonna make for one damn fine showdown. Allen considers has last statement for a moment... Nick: ...Or, it'll turn into a complete and utter fuck up of a throwout of a match. Fuck... Kitten, if you're watching this, just don't get in my way on Sunday, please? Nick stands, the chair toppling slowly backwards as he does so, before clattering to the floor with a sound that ping-pongs against the walls in the room. Fade. |
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[align=center] I'm a helmet. [/align] | |
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2:34 PM Jul 11