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Back in Time.; First Person/C2V RP3
Topic Started: Jun 28 2008, 08:45 PM (284 Views)
Thornhill
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The Revolution
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**OOC: Same deal as usual lately...I'm at work, color coding doesnt work through a proxy, I'll color it when I get home. If you behave.**

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-=A blinding flash of white light is the first sensation your body is hit with as you wake up from an afternoon nap. A weird tingle courses through your body as it seems as though you're falling, but the strange pulsation of colors surrounding you on all sides makes it difficult to tell exactly WHAT is going on. Suddenly, you're lying face down...on grass. You raise your head to find a well-manicured lawn, a gorgeous flowerbed, and a modestly-sized brick home...and an old man sitting in a rocking chair on the covered porch. Two small children are playing with matchbox cars on the concrete at his feet, and the old man rocks slowly, watching them with a curious fascination. One little boy, and one little girl, racing cars together. Suddenly, the little girl stops her car in it's tracks as an inquisitive look spreads across her face...and you can see the question coming...=-

Girl: Granpa, will you tell us a story?

-=The old man stops rocking as he hesitates, already formulating which story he wants to share with the children. The little boy, seeing his sister needs some backup, chimes in as well.=-

Boy: Yeah, Granpa! Tell us about the time you were a professional wrestler!

-=Well, the story topic has been decided. The old man leans back in his rocking chair, smiles a white-bearded smile, and slowly begins to recount the good old days.=-

Granpa: Well, kids...I started out in an organization called the CWF. We had AMAZING matches! Everyone worked well with one another in the ring, even if people were not friends behind the scenes. One time, we had a storyline going that involved EVERYONE in the CWF! There were more than 20 people! Each person had some part they played in the story, and everybody enjoyed what they were doing because everybody played off of each other so well. In promos...in the ring...EVERYBODY acknowledged everybody else! Because of that, nobody ever ran out of material. We wouldn't have storied about gay tag team partners or stockpiled promos, prepared months or years in advance, that when used had absolutely nothing to do with the match at hand. And the battles in the ring! Oh, there were so many talented wrestlers back in those days. Granpa Thornhill hated to see those days go by.

-="Ah!" You think to yourself. You just KNEW you'd heard that voice somewhere...some time...before. You crawl carefully, quietly across the grass to get a closer listen, but the scene unfolding on the porch is oblivious to your presence...almost as though you weren't even there. Maybe you aren't.=-

Girl: Why'd you stop in the CWF, Granpa Thornhill?

Thornhill: Well, I got hurt in an accident, and my leg just wouldn't let me do it! By the time I got well, the CWF had closed down, and the golden years of wrestling were officially over. I decided to try to come back years after that, but it just wasn't the same! I joined a company called the sVo, and...kids, it was bad. Just bad. Everybody just marched to the beat of their own drummer. Each person had their own little stories that they wanted to tell. One guy's tag team parner thought he liked other boys, so that's all they talked about -- whether he was in a match or not. Even the World Champion did nothing but talk about grocery shopping with his kid. It was horrible! Nobody had any chemistry because nobody ever really worked together -- one guy would tell a story about going to a bar, the other guy would tell a story about dating a girl, and the two stories had nothing to do with each other! Then, they'd get into the ring and expect people to give half a poo about who won the match. Eventually, I stopped even watching them recite their stories on television...it never had anything to do with wrestling. I mean, we were professional WRESTLERS, right? Sure, there were a few exceptions...Chris Bond was a talented guy, and Billy Jacobs knew how to work a promo and a crowd...but those were few and far between!

Boy: Why did you stay, Granpa Thornhill?

Thornhill: Well...I was very tempted to leave from the beginning. But as my brethren from the CWF...guys who KNEW how a wrestling organization could be run...started growing tired of the same antics I grew tired of, we didn't want to leave...we wanted to change things. We started a revolution. We used our skills to start to make a difference. We worked to change things...to show those guys that nobody cares that their son prefers 2% milk over Sweet Acidopholous. Nobody cares that your baby's mama's house is three blocks away and that you want to go over there and take up extended periods of my promo viewing time to talk through whether or not you might have homosexual tendencies. We wanted to show them that we are professional wrestlers, and that it doesn't hurt to mention professional wrestling a time or two when we speak. If I was a car salesman and never talked about cars, I'd be pretty sucky at my job, don't you think? Steven Steele and I...former CWF alumni...squared off in our first Pay Per View against each other. And at the time, we both knew it didn't matter who won the match...that our purposes would eventually be served from it's outcome.

Boy: What happened? How did it turn out? What happened with The Revolution? Did you do what you wanted to do?

Thornhill: Those are stories for another time...right now Granpa is tired and needs to go take a nap.

-=You watch as Thornhill undertakes the excruciatingly slow exercise of rising from the rocking chair to his feet, slowly walking inside of his house. The BANG of the screen door slamming jolts you off of ground and back into the blinding white flash of light followed by the same swirling pattern of colored lights, persisting for a few moments until you are literally thrown onto your couch in your home, body soaked with perspiration. On the television in front of you is Matt Thornhill, stoicly staring out through the screen. He does not look anything like the old man you just saw on the porch a few moments ago. It appears to you that he is staring and waiting for you to get your senses back about you before he begins to speak.=-

Thornhill: It's funny how attitudes can totally change in the course of a week. This time last week, I was perfectly content beating the hell out of Steven Steele, sending him off into retirement, and going about my business in the sVo on the permanent undercard, miserable until I decided to hang it up myself. Steele and I previously talked about several finishes to our match, such as the Nash/Hogan fingerpoke...or wrestling out a legitimate match, giving the fans something to remember; a final snapshot of the career of Steven Steele.

But things have happened. Things have changed. Instead of marching into this match and looking at it like a supercharged opener of a PPV...instead of looking at it like what could have been a main-event caliber matchup in a fed with common sense...it's a match that's taken on much more meaning than that. This match signifies the antithesis of the sVo -- and what I am here to help it to become.

-=Thornhill's face becomes smaller as the camera pans out, revealing a nice dark suit and tie with a light blue shirt. Thornhill begins to walk, taking on the aire of a documentary host as he begins to speak again.=-

Thornhill: Once upon a time, there was a wrestling organization known as World Championship Wrestling. At one point, this group was the finest in the world. Amazing athletes dominated the lower and midcard...and the uppercard was manned, primarily, by names without ability.

Over time, backstage politics completely poisoned the WCW. People were pushed for work they did backstage. Ass-kissing ran rampant. Ratings slumped because nobody wanted to see the men who held the big belt...while guys like Mysterio, Benoit, Guerrero, Jericho...they toiled in near obscurity while throwing out 5-star matches week after week after week. No-talent hacks ran the main event, management couldn't see what was happening, and eventually, Shane McMahon walked down the aisle at Nitro announcing the WCW was done for.

I see the same thing happening here...and my CWF brethren and I are here to do something about it. The funny thing is, nobody had any intentions of bringing up our past ties -- we were all interested in making new names for ourselves...forging new identities. But when we saw how much help the sVo needed from us...how pitiful the talent that was already here was...what terrible WRESTLERS there are here in the sVo...we knew we had to do something. Y'know...if I want a storyteller, I'll fuckin go to Books a Million. If I want a wrestler, I'll go to a wrestling federation! Makes sense...right?

Right.

More than likely, the revolution will not be televised -- we'll be buried on Unsanctioned, squaring off against greenhorns with no intention of showing up for the match week after week. But no matter. We're here to rescue the sVo...whether they like it or not.

Pay attention to my match with Steele this week...win or lose, our mission will be carried forth. Change is brewing, ladies...and there's nothing ANY of you can do except embrace it.

-=Thornhill walks away from the camera, shrinking in size until your 27" RCA SD TV's pixels lack the ability to show him anymore. You can't help but think to yourself that Thornhill...and the rest of the so-called REvolution...they might be on to something here. Exhausted from your journey through time, you flop over on the couch and fall immediately asleep.=-
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