Post by princesslove on Jul 11, 2011 12:18:42 GMT -5
”This is your GOD’s decree; follow it. ”
One Final Message – An RP By Ophiuchus
It is a dark and depressing day for the rest of the world. For Omega, there is only happiness. Only bliss. Only pure satisfaction as the World Champion. It is time for him to cast down the final tombstone in the story of Alkertraz and Rob Van Dam. It is time for him to make one more statement...one final message.
It all starts like it usually does. The beginning is always the same as before. The capacity crowd at the Ground Zero headquarters are all in attendance. Washroom breaks are finished. They just lay in wait for things to come. Most aren’t really paying much attention. Most don’t even care; they’ve had their fill of matches throughout the entire show, and are just there to enjoy the ambiance and share good time with others along with their favourite hobby; that being wrestling. Some were just talking about the pouring rain and the thunderstorm outside. It’s the craziest it’s been in months. This was perfect. It set things up for what was to come.
And what was to come...was the appearance of the Dark Angel.
Omega was never one to keep his messages lingering on for too long. He was always short and to the point, especially when he was angry. Especially when he had the battle on his mind. He’s different this time around. He’s actually happy. He’s proud of the things that have occurred between him and his two rivals throughout the past few weeks. He’s proud of the fact that he’s ahead for the first time in a long time. He wants to deliver this message as only he could...like a Champion.
Omega WAS, however, the type of guy that struck fear into the hearts of not only his opponents, but the world as well. It’s kept things interesting for him. Ever since the days of The Undertaker and Kane at their prime...The Brood...The Boogeyman...it’s thrilled him. Turned him on in a sense. He loved every moment of it, while everyone else cowered. He grew, from someone that loved the feeling of fear, to someone that wanted nothing more than to inflict it himself. Taking this time, on this stormy, dark day, of all days, to play mind games with his opponents, would make the statement that he wasn’t one to be played around by Alkertraz and RVD’s failed attempts to berate him at every turn. He was tired of it, so it was time to do some playing back. The only difference between him and them, however...was that he wasn’t going to lose. Not now. Not ever.
Static. It’s how it always begins. It became a trademark symbol. It became a signal for the audience to watch in attention at the screen presented at the front of the arena. Static was a symbol for everyone to boo, to jeer and to verbally assault the once-loved World Champion. Plain and simple, they hated him. They wanted to hurt him for the cheap tactics, the indignant messages and interviews...they hated everything he became. But that gave them an excuse to see him. He was the real reason everyone stayed. He was the one that made everyone look; to see what underhanded move he would perform next. They loved to hate him. Today was no different. The static raged on, but the speakers transmitted more than that. Screaming. Screeching. Ripping. Bloodshed. The fear he wanted to bring, it was already taking effect. The once serene, grey static became more and more distorted, like the screen itself was tearing apart, edge-by-edge. The air suddenly got colder. All the elements were here. Spines were shivering; enough to make them snap, just like that. He was trying something new, and it was working. And it all collided. The screaming, the screeching, the ripping, the hard static grew louder and louder until it all came into a standstill. And a single guitar riff broke the two-second silence, crashing into every eardrum. The end of the beginning.
A new theme song for Omega. Fixation on the Darkness by Killswitch Engage roared with dark intent, blasting from every speaker in the arena; creating an ominous echo as sound collided on the walls. It fit well. It dominated the audience. Who knew, that with just the sound of his theme, he would make everyone in the audience his bitch. The lights, once a plain white hue, turn purple; they quickly interchange from purple to a darker grey. The entrance ramp leading to the arena corresponded in the same way; the padded lights within flashing at rapid intervals. A dimmed violet spotlight aimed at the exact center of the arena with precision. The static on the screen calmed down to fit the theme. As soon as everything was set, it was time for Omega’s cue.
The crowd was prepared. They LOVED to hate him. And as soon as he exited the dark tunnel within the backstage area, and slowly...methodically made his way to the front of the stage, looking at all of his work, music still playing and a smile on his fully-sculpted face where teeth bare. This angered the people more; the arrogant look...how dare he come out here like this, when he has to defend his title against two powerful opponents at Slammiversary? He didn’t give a shit. He had confidence in his mind; no fear, no struggle. His arms raise to form a cross-like figure, as if to say ‘worship me’. He knew nobody was there to worship him, because that was bullshit. He was merely taunting the peasants in front of him, to the sides of him, possibly even behind him. After enough, he makes his way down the ramp and to the ring, in a fashion that moved to the beat of his own music. Crowd rages; tries to reach out at him, and to show off their signs that illustrate this rage. He paid no attention. He looked forward, with eyes that matched the colour of his lights. Forward at the canvassed ring that was presented in front of him like a prize; like it was his to take over. And he would do just that...at least for the time being. Completely disregarding the stairs, he takes a high jump to the ring apron before the ropes. Goes in. Walks around the ring for a bit. Finally takes time to take in the audience once more. And they were continuing to boo. He laughs it off while he asks for a microphone. It seemed like forever, but it was time for him to begin. He catches the mic that was thrown at him with quick accuracy. He plays around with it for a bit, letting everything calm down. The music fades out, and the lights stop flashing; now they remain violet. Finally, the crowd, getting tired of booing, and driving Omega’s patience, simmers down to chatter. This is where Omega gets to say what he needs said. To say what his opponents need to hear.
“...Wrestling.”
Just the sound of Omega’s voice makes the crowd sick. They boo more. Omega waits, calmly. He’s too in a good mood to let anyone test his rough temper. He just continues on speaking.
“Ever since I was a young child, in the streets of Los Angeles, California...I was raised in a shit family. Nobody got along. I was kicked out. By a bunch of nobodies...talentless bunch of bastards that didn’t respect me, the words I said, the things I did, the people I liked and disliked...they didn’t like me because I was better than them and they never admitted to any of that. But the one thing that I had over all of them...the one that made them the most jealous and the most angry towards me, was a gift. The SAME gift that...caused them to fear me. Caused them to fear what I would become. They didn’t want me to be a wrestler. But wrestling was my gift. The word ‘wrestling’...was synonymous with me and my gift. The word ‘wrestling’ was what drove me. I was kicked out for that. Thrown out alone. Left to die. But I didn’t die. I couldn’t die until I showed this gift to everyone. And you know what that did for me? You know what that gift made me? You know the reason why I’m here, or why I’m at the top of this ladder we call a business? Do you know why I’m...the World Champion?”
The crowd boos as a half-assed response to Omega’s question.
“...I thought not. All of you are too stupid to realize what I mean. You may think that my words are a bunch of gibberish...that I’m just here to spit you a bunch of bullshit to cover airtime and that’s fine. But my words are art. My words are the poetry and the stories that link together in the end and become the statement that shakes the foundation of this company inside and out each and every time I say shit. Now do you KNOW...why I became the World Champion? I don’t believe you really do. It was never really my ‘destiny’ to become the Champion. I’m no Alberto Del Rio. I was never a man with a plan, like The Brian Kendrick. I came here out of desperation...no plans were made. I’m no big star...I don’t advertise the latest t-shirts, or wristbands, and I don’t suck up to the boss of the company. I came here with no idea of how anything worked, but I worked my ass off anyways...because I had a gift that wasn’t worth wasting. My gift makes me better than all of you. This is why I’m World Champion. I’m a GOD because of my GIFT! I’m the WORLD CHAMPION because I am a GOD! Not because I DESERVE it, but because I...NEED IT. Do you REALIZE this!?”
“It was the motivation that led me here! The fact that I allowed my gift...for so long...to seep into the hearts of thousands in indy corporations, in the WWE, in every fucking wrestling ring and pavement top and alleyway that led me here...it was my distraction! It brought me away from my gift! It brought me closer to you...you, the sick bastards that mooch off of me all the time for the good in me...there is NO good in me! Not anymore! Only my gift. So therefore, there is no reason for me to love any of you. I hate all of you, and I don’t care if you hate me. I spit on the same bunch of nobodies here that were responsible for the pain and the exclusion of me...because of the things I did, the words I said, and the people I was with. And you take it back and boo me. This is the process. People are jealous of the things they cannot have. And you cannot have this gift...you’d kill me for it. But realize that if you want things to run smoothly...it’s best if you respect me for IT. This is your GOD’s decree; follow it.”
Omega bathes in the jeers, the insults, the boos, with a scowl on his face and the momentum rolling in.
“But the point I’m trying to make...is not about any of you. It’s not about my family, the ‘friends’ I once had, the people that tried to take me down, or even the people that continue to worship me. My point is...Slammiversary. My point is the World Championship. My point especially...is Rob Van Dam. It is Alkertraz. It is the match that defines their entire careers...and only makes the ATTEMPT to put a dent in mine.”
“Robbie...Traz...I know that you two dislike me...disrespect me enough. I know that you’re too much in hate with me. I know that you’re taking the time to hear me out on whatever spare television screen you can find over there in the backstage shit-heap. You guys wanna beat me so badly, you’re willing to watch my every move. Willing think up of ambushes, or chair assaults, like you usually do. Willing to think up of a gameplan for the upcoming pay-per-view. I know you more than you think. I’m giving you all this time here to make your movements. I’m speaking to you. Getting inside your head after every single word and you can’t admit it. It’s burning you. Teeth clenched. Fists open. Eyes filling with rage. I’m ready for you. But you may want to hear what I have to say. It may be the same old hatred between rivals...may be the same grudges and the same old ‘I will beat you’ shit. It may just be smoke and mirrors...it may just be me trying to play the mind game card, just like one of my older rivals, The Undertaker. But you don’t know yet. Hell, I’m rolling with the punches here. I don’t even know what I’m going to say. I’m fucking unpredictable. I want you to hear me, not just loud and clear, but as loudly and as clearly as possible. And by the end of it all...you’ll be willing to get your last words in, thinking you can get the chance to criticize my every word, but unlike with you two...I pay no attention to you. You have no other option but to listen to me because honestly...I’m the only thing worth listening to. This Championship is the only thing worth seeing for you. You want it. But like I said...jealousy is wanting the things you cannot have. It’s unfortunate because you’re fighting for a lost cause, fighting for something that’s too far away from your reach. And that brass ring isn’t getting any closer. Every time you reach out for it...you’ll just get shot down by it’s owner...me.”
“And once again you fail to realize my gift. My instinct. My power. My role as a god. THE god...of Ground Zero. Every single week. Every single ambush. Every single gang-up. Every single chair, table, kick to the head, swipe to the balls, punch to the face...every slam, crash, potential injury...has lead you both to the spot where you began. Which is me...standing at this ring. Me, still World Champion...still WILL be World Champion, while you look on in the same hatred that everyone else has given me for decades. The same hatred that has given me shit for decades. The same hatred...that was all for one thing, and that was my gift of wrestling.”
Omega finally takes time to pause. He knew he was getting back into the message he wanted to pull all along. The crowd doesn’t boo as much; they were listening. They paid attention. They knew what he had to say was...in some way, true. And it was crazy.
“And that’s where it all starts, doesn’t it? It all started that way...it’s started since I was a child. And it ends at Slammiversary. With the two opponents scattered in the ring. Blood will spill, injuries will occur. It’s the Hell I’ve been wanting and the Hell I’ve been promising, and I will inflict it...simply because I can, and I just WILL. Simply because I want you to end this. Now. End all the plots and the scheming to take me down. End all the gunning for my title. End the Number One Contendership. You’re done, and you know it, and you failed to regard my warning. You failed to drop it all while you had a chance.”
“I’ve had these...thoughts. Thoughts to just drop it all. Drop this gift. Because that alone is the reason why people are coming to destroy me, and to take this gift from me where I stand and where I fall. I’ve had thoughts to just leave, because the pressure, the hatred and the bullshit, was just plain. Too. Fucking. Much. Too much I’ve had to suffer for YEARS on end because they all hated me. People like you hated me, and people like Rob Van Dam and Alkertraz wanted to take me out, in any way they could. And giving it all up was probably the only thought I had. I thought wrong. Those thoughts were once all I had. And I say FUCK THEM. Fuck it until they’re dead! The only way this will end, is if I end it myself!”
“It’s almost time. I’m not holding anything back. You scared yet? Alkertraz? Rob? Scared of the things that I may do to you? Scared of the fact that you’re gonna be SO CLOSE, only to be DROPPED. JUST. LIKE. THAT. Are you!? Or are you simply just waiting for the day to come. Waiting for the day that you’ll finally get your chance to deliver this hate on every facet of my body. Ready to destroy me. It’s the latter...isn’t it? You want to make me suffer, bleed, lay in the middle of the ring, looking up at only the lights and the cheering audience, eyes barely open, regretting my life for everything I’ve done!? While one of you goes home with the title!? YOU WANT THAT!? HUH!? I know my answer. It’s not the smart choice, but you’re digging your grave. Ever since I was a kid...this gift has been in my blood. And to tell you the truth...it wasn’t wrestling entirely...it was to TAKE THIS HATRED, THIS JEALOUSY FOR MY GIFT, AND TO USE IT! I’M GONNA USE IT TO TEAR YOUR FUCKING HEADS OFF AND CLAIM THIS TITLE AS MINE ONCE MORE!? NOW ARE YOU SCARED NOW!? Because...once the time comes...once Slammiversary comes...ALL THIS HATE IS ON YOU! YOU HAVE ANGERED...A GOD!”
On perfect cue, as if the sound director in the back was waiting for his final word, the guitar riff sounds, the drums crash, and the music plays again. Boos are a lot more silent now, as Omega, who once came out smiling, has full momentum, and only a scowl forms on his face. He leaves the ring, pretty much in the same way he came; going up the ramp and ignoring everybody else as he goes through the tunnel. His statement has been made. And he could not feel any better about it. All he could hope for now is that Alkertraz and Rob Van Dam were watching.
-FIN-
One Final Message – An RP By Ophiuchus
It is a dark and depressing day for the rest of the world. For Omega, there is only happiness. Only bliss. Only pure satisfaction as the World Champion. It is time for him to cast down the final tombstone in the story of Alkertraz and Rob Van Dam. It is time for him to make one more statement...one final message.
It all starts like it usually does. The beginning is always the same as before. The capacity crowd at the Ground Zero headquarters are all in attendance. Washroom breaks are finished. They just lay in wait for things to come. Most aren’t really paying much attention. Most don’t even care; they’ve had their fill of matches throughout the entire show, and are just there to enjoy the ambiance and share good time with others along with their favourite hobby; that being wrestling. Some were just talking about the pouring rain and the thunderstorm outside. It’s the craziest it’s been in months. This was perfect. It set things up for what was to come.
And what was to come...was the appearance of the Dark Angel.
Omega was never one to keep his messages lingering on for too long. He was always short and to the point, especially when he was angry. Especially when he had the battle on his mind. He’s different this time around. He’s actually happy. He’s proud of the things that have occurred between him and his two rivals throughout the past few weeks. He’s proud of the fact that he’s ahead for the first time in a long time. He wants to deliver this message as only he could...like a Champion.
Omega WAS, however, the type of guy that struck fear into the hearts of not only his opponents, but the world as well. It’s kept things interesting for him. Ever since the days of The Undertaker and Kane at their prime...The Brood...The Boogeyman...it’s thrilled him. Turned him on in a sense. He loved every moment of it, while everyone else cowered. He grew, from someone that loved the feeling of fear, to someone that wanted nothing more than to inflict it himself. Taking this time, on this stormy, dark day, of all days, to play mind games with his opponents, would make the statement that he wasn’t one to be played around by Alkertraz and RVD’s failed attempts to berate him at every turn. He was tired of it, so it was time to do some playing back. The only difference between him and them, however...was that he wasn’t going to lose. Not now. Not ever.
Static. It’s how it always begins. It became a trademark symbol. It became a signal for the audience to watch in attention at the screen presented at the front of the arena. Static was a symbol for everyone to boo, to jeer and to verbally assault the once-loved World Champion. Plain and simple, they hated him. They wanted to hurt him for the cheap tactics, the indignant messages and interviews...they hated everything he became. But that gave them an excuse to see him. He was the real reason everyone stayed. He was the one that made everyone look; to see what underhanded move he would perform next. They loved to hate him. Today was no different. The static raged on, but the speakers transmitted more than that. Screaming. Screeching. Ripping. Bloodshed. The fear he wanted to bring, it was already taking effect. The once serene, grey static became more and more distorted, like the screen itself was tearing apart, edge-by-edge. The air suddenly got colder. All the elements were here. Spines were shivering; enough to make them snap, just like that. He was trying something new, and it was working. And it all collided. The screaming, the screeching, the ripping, the hard static grew louder and louder until it all came into a standstill. And a single guitar riff broke the two-second silence, crashing into every eardrum. The end of the beginning.
A new theme song for Omega. Fixation on the Darkness by Killswitch Engage roared with dark intent, blasting from every speaker in the arena; creating an ominous echo as sound collided on the walls. It fit well. It dominated the audience. Who knew, that with just the sound of his theme, he would make everyone in the audience his bitch. The lights, once a plain white hue, turn purple; they quickly interchange from purple to a darker grey. The entrance ramp leading to the arena corresponded in the same way; the padded lights within flashing at rapid intervals. A dimmed violet spotlight aimed at the exact center of the arena with precision. The static on the screen calmed down to fit the theme. As soon as everything was set, it was time for Omega’s cue.
The crowd was prepared. They LOVED to hate him. And as soon as he exited the dark tunnel within the backstage area, and slowly...methodically made his way to the front of the stage, looking at all of his work, music still playing and a smile on his fully-sculpted face where teeth bare. This angered the people more; the arrogant look...how dare he come out here like this, when he has to defend his title against two powerful opponents at Slammiversary? He didn’t give a shit. He had confidence in his mind; no fear, no struggle. His arms raise to form a cross-like figure, as if to say ‘worship me’. He knew nobody was there to worship him, because that was bullshit. He was merely taunting the peasants in front of him, to the sides of him, possibly even behind him. After enough, he makes his way down the ramp and to the ring, in a fashion that moved to the beat of his own music. Crowd rages; tries to reach out at him, and to show off their signs that illustrate this rage. He paid no attention. He looked forward, with eyes that matched the colour of his lights. Forward at the canvassed ring that was presented in front of him like a prize; like it was his to take over. And he would do just that...at least for the time being. Completely disregarding the stairs, he takes a high jump to the ring apron before the ropes. Goes in. Walks around the ring for a bit. Finally takes time to take in the audience once more. And they were continuing to boo. He laughs it off while he asks for a microphone. It seemed like forever, but it was time for him to begin. He catches the mic that was thrown at him with quick accuracy. He plays around with it for a bit, letting everything calm down. The music fades out, and the lights stop flashing; now they remain violet. Finally, the crowd, getting tired of booing, and driving Omega’s patience, simmers down to chatter. This is where Omega gets to say what he needs said. To say what his opponents need to hear.
“...Wrestling.”
Just the sound of Omega’s voice makes the crowd sick. They boo more. Omega waits, calmly. He’s too in a good mood to let anyone test his rough temper. He just continues on speaking.
“Ever since I was a young child, in the streets of Los Angeles, California...I was raised in a shit family. Nobody got along. I was kicked out. By a bunch of nobodies...talentless bunch of bastards that didn’t respect me, the words I said, the things I did, the people I liked and disliked...they didn’t like me because I was better than them and they never admitted to any of that. But the one thing that I had over all of them...the one that made them the most jealous and the most angry towards me, was a gift. The SAME gift that...caused them to fear me. Caused them to fear what I would become. They didn’t want me to be a wrestler. But wrestling was my gift. The word ‘wrestling’...was synonymous with me and my gift. The word ‘wrestling’ was what drove me. I was kicked out for that. Thrown out alone. Left to die. But I didn’t die. I couldn’t die until I showed this gift to everyone. And you know what that did for me? You know what that gift made me? You know the reason why I’m here, or why I’m at the top of this ladder we call a business? Do you know why I’m...the World Champion?”
The crowd boos as a half-assed response to Omega’s question.
“...I thought not. All of you are too stupid to realize what I mean. You may think that my words are a bunch of gibberish...that I’m just here to spit you a bunch of bullshit to cover airtime and that’s fine. But my words are art. My words are the poetry and the stories that link together in the end and become the statement that shakes the foundation of this company inside and out each and every time I say shit. Now do you KNOW...why I became the World Champion? I don’t believe you really do. It was never really my ‘destiny’ to become the Champion. I’m no Alberto Del Rio. I was never a man with a plan, like The Brian Kendrick. I came here out of desperation...no plans were made. I’m no big star...I don’t advertise the latest t-shirts, or wristbands, and I don’t suck up to the boss of the company. I came here with no idea of how anything worked, but I worked my ass off anyways...because I had a gift that wasn’t worth wasting. My gift makes me better than all of you. This is why I’m World Champion. I’m a GOD because of my GIFT! I’m the WORLD CHAMPION because I am a GOD! Not because I DESERVE it, but because I...NEED IT. Do you REALIZE this!?”
“It was the motivation that led me here! The fact that I allowed my gift...for so long...to seep into the hearts of thousands in indy corporations, in the WWE, in every fucking wrestling ring and pavement top and alleyway that led me here...it was my distraction! It brought me away from my gift! It brought me closer to you...you, the sick bastards that mooch off of me all the time for the good in me...there is NO good in me! Not anymore! Only my gift. So therefore, there is no reason for me to love any of you. I hate all of you, and I don’t care if you hate me. I spit on the same bunch of nobodies here that were responsible for the pain and the exclusion of me...because of the things I did, the words I said, and the people I was with. And you take it back and boo me. This is the process. People are jealous of the things they cannot have. And you cannot have this gift...you’d kill me for it. But realize that if you want things to run smoothly...it’s best if you respect me for IT. This is your GOD’s decree; follow it.”
Omega bathes in the jeers, the insults, the boos, with a scowl on his face and the momentum rolling in.
“But the point I’m trying to make...is not about any of you. It’s not about my family, the ‘friends’ I once had, the people that tried to take me down, or even the people that continue to worship me. My point is...Slammiversary. My point is the World Championship. My point especially...is Rob Van Dam. It is Alkertraz. It is the match that defines their entire careers...and only makes the ATTEMPT to put a dent in mine.”
“Robbie...Traz...I know that you two dislike me...disrespect me enough. I know that you’re too much in hate with me. I know that you’re taking the time to hear me out on whatever spare television screen you can find over there in the backstage shit-heap. You guys wanna beat me so badly, you’re willing to watch my every move. Willing think up of ambushes, or chair assaults, like you usually do. Willing to think up of a gameplan for the upcoming pay-per-view. I know you more than you think. I’m giving you all this time here to make your movements. I’m speaking to you. Getting inside your head after every single word and you can’t admit it. It’s burning you. Teeth clenched. Fists open. Eyes filling with rage. I’m ready for you. But you may want to hear what I have to say. It may be the same old hatred between rivals...may be the same grudges and the same old ‘I will beat you’ shit. It may just be smoke and mirrors...it may just be me trying to play the mind game card, just like one of my older rivals, The Undertaker. But you don’t know yet. Hell, I’m rolling with the punches here. I don’t even know what I’m going to say. I’m fucking unpredictable. I want you to hear me, not just loud and clear, but as loudly and as clearly as possible. And by the end of it all...you’ll be willing to get your last words in, thinking you can get the chance to criticize my every word, but unlike with you two...I pay no attention to you. You have no other option but to listen to me because honestly...I’m the only thing worth listening to. This Championship is the only thing worth seeing for you. You want it. But like I said...jealousy is wanting the things you cannot have. It’s unfortunate because you’re fighting for a lost cause, fighting for something that’s too far away from your reach. And that brass ring isn’t getting any closer. Every time you reach out for it...you’ll just get shot down by it’s owner...me.”
“And once again you fail to realize my gift. My instinct. My power. My role as a god. THE god...of Ground Zero. Every single week. Every single ambush. Every single gang-up. Every single chair, table, kick to the head, swipe to the balls, punch to the face...every slam, crash, potential injury...has lead you both to the spot where you began. Which is me...standing at this ring. Me, still World Champion...still WILL be World Champion, while you look on in the same hatred that everyone else has given me for decades. The same hatred that has given me shit for decades. The same hatred...that was all for one thing, and that was my gift of wrestling.”
Omega finally takes time to pause. He knew he was getting back into the message he wanted to pull all along. The crowd doesn’t boo as much; they were listening. They paid attention. They knew what he had to say was...in some way, true. And it was crazy.
“And that’s where it all starts, doesn’t it? It all started that way...it’s started since I was a child. And it ends at Slammiversary. With the two opponents scattered in the ring. Blood will spill, injuries will occur. It’s the Hell I’ve been wanting and the Hell I’ve been promising, and I will inflict it...simply because I can, and I just WILL. Simply because I want you to end this. Now. End all the plots and the scheming to take me down. End all the gunning for my title. End the Number One Contendership. You’re done, and you know it, and you failed to regard my warning. You failed to drop it all while you had a chance.”
“I’ve had these...thoughts. Thoughts to just drop it all. Drop this gift. Because that alone is the reason why people are coming to destroy me, and to take this gift from me where I stand and where I fall. I’ve had thoughts to just leave, because the pressure, the hatred and the bullshit, was just plain. Too. Fucking. Much. Too much I’ve had to suffer for YEARS on end because they all hated me. People like you hated me, and people like Rob Van Dam and Alkertraz wanted to take me out, in any way they could. And giving it all up was probably the only thought I had. I thought wrong. Those thoughts were once all I had. And I say FUCK THEM. Fuck it until they’re dead! The only way this will end, is if I end it myself!”
“It’s almost time. I’m not holding anything back. You scared yet? Alkertraz? Rob? Scared of the things that I may do to you? Scared of the fact that you’re gonna be SO CLOSE, only to be DROPPED. JUST. LIKE. THAT. Are you!? Or are you simply just waiting for the day to come. Waiting for the day that you’ll finally get your chance to deliver this hate on every facet of my body. Ready to destroy me. It’s the latter...isn’t it? You want to make me suffer, bleed, lay in the middle of the ring, looking up at only the lights and the cheering audience, eyes barely open, regretting my life for everything I’ve done!? While one of you goes home with the title!? YOU WANT THAT!? HUH!? I know my answer. It’s not the smart choice, but you’re digging your grave. Ever since I was a kid...this gift has been in my blood. And to tell you the truth...it wasn’t wrestling entirely...it was to TAKE THIS HATRED, THIS JEALOUSY FOR MY GIFT, AND TO USE IT! I’M GONNA USE IT TO TEAR YOUR FUCKING HEADS OFF AND CLAIM THIS TITLE AS MINE ONCE MORE!? NOW ARE YOU SCARED NOW!? Because...once the time comes...once Slammiversary comes...ALL THIS HATE IS ON YOU! YOU HAVE ANGERED...A GOD!”
On perfect cue, as if the sound director in the back was waiting for his final word, the guitar riff sounds, the drums crash, and the music plays again. Boos are a lot more silent now, as Omega, who once came out smiling, has full momentum, and only a scowl forms on his face. He leaves the ring, pretty much in the same way he came; going up the ramp and ignoring everybody else as he goes through the tunnel. His statement has been made. And he could not feel any better about it. All he could hope for now is that Alkertraz and Rob Van Dam were watching.
-FIN-