| El Locon Roleplay | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 9 2011, 03:57 PM (197 Views) | |
| Los Locos | Mar 9 2011, 03:57 PM Post #1 |
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sVo Contender
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Roll of thunder, hear my cry over the water bye and bye Ole man comin' down the line Whip in hand to beat me down But I ain't gonna let him Turn me 'round. The camera fades in from black as it always does…in America! The cold embrace of night is not really an embrace. At nearly one o’clock in the morning, the embrace is more like a strangle hold. A light rain was continuing to fall. It had started since late afternoon and refused to let up. The low level lighting of the street lamps illuminates small circles of the sidewalk here and there. From behind Lou’s Deli, El Locon steps out from behind the shadows. He is wearing ripped light blue jeans, a pitch black short sleeved tee shirt, and a long black leather trench coat. He steps into the light and uses his hands to turn up the collar on the trench coat. He then places his hands into the pockets of his trench coat and looks deep into the camera. El Locon: Look familiar? It should. This is the same boring place that you will usually find Nightmare cutting one of his long boring promos on how he is going to completely obliterate his competition. He’ll try and punch his fists and flex his muscles. He’ll stare a hole into the camera and act as if his retinas contain the rage and fierceness of a Los Angeles forest fire. But if experience has taught us anything, Nightmare is a complete push over. Nightmare has not earned a valuable win. He has not worked hard. He is thrown willy-nilly into matches for no apparent reason. Why? Because he is Nightmare. Pay-Per-View-In and Pay-Per-View-Out, our dearly reviled Mr. Matt Anderson decides that it is in his best interest to give Nightmare matches on a silver platter. But I know one day I will get my revenge on him. The rain has collected on El Locon’s hair. He wipes his hand through his hair and flicks the excess water off to his right. He thrusts his hand back into his right pocket and begins to walk along the street. The camera follows El Locon as he moves down the sidewalk and moves in and out of the light. El Locon stops in between the light of two lamp posts and gazes back into the camera. El Locon: I admit that I am not the model wrestler. I have done everything in my power to ridicule those that I have found to be different from me. I have exhibited xenophobic behavior. I have tried to destroy the careers of my fellow wrestlers. I have tried to not only get under their skin, I’ve tried to fester under their skin and grow into a full blown virus that consumes them. I’ve had blood on my hands and almost destroyed myself. I’ve sank to the depths of the shadows. I’ve sold my soul to the devil. The question many have asked is what has it gotten me. It is a valid question and one that, since I returned it had led to a lot of soul searching. I’ve come to a discovery. El Locon moves further on down the sidewalk. He stops inside the halo of golden light of a street lamp that resides outside of the local liquor store. El Locon: Coming back has changed my perspective on things. I uh… Shyly, El Locon looks down at the ground. He has a smile on his face, acknowledging the shyness. He looks back up to the camera still smiling. He takes his hand out of the trench coat pocket and wipes the rain water and smile from his mouth. El Locon: I fell in love. I fell in love with someone who wasn’t American. You, the SVO fans, have been enjoying my downfall, but I stand before you a man who has risen above the pettiness of my own beliefs. I understand that there are nay-sayers out there. I acknowledge their sentiments but respectfully disagree with their viewpoint. I fell in love with a woman from France. I have experienced something that is beyond eye opening. It has made me regretful, respectful, and above all… apologetic. I… am sorry…. America. I say that to you the fans and I say that to myself. I apologize to myself for the way that I have acted and the way that I have treated all of you. But I am also here to reassure you, myself, and Nightmare that the more things change, the more they stay the same. While my views on certain things have changed, I reassure that my tongue is still as quick witted as ever. I finally gathered the courage to sit through all of Zak Snyder’s horrible rendition of Watchmen. I thought about a few things. First, instead of an alien attacking New York, Dr. Manhattan did. The result? The world now unites against the allegory of God manifested on earth. The second? The second involves a nice line about how the character known as the Comedian saw how savage the human race really is. His way of dealing with it was to become a parody of it. Nightmare is essentially that. Nightmare sees how savage and dark SVO has become. And what is he? He is more of a parody of it than we can possibly fathom. El Locon outstretches his arms in a crucifixion style pose and looks to the heavens with the rain beating on his face. El Locon: This setting is a parody of what Nightmare is. This setting parodies how Nightmare is. Nightmare is this setting in that it is dark and bleak. Like Nightmare’s voice, the thunder roars. Like the fire in Nightmare’s eyes, the lightning flashes. But, you will notice that despite this attempt to personify hell, heaven still breaks through every now and again. El Locon motions to the street lamps that light up the path he is on. El Locon: Nightmare tries to put up the tough guy façade but his fluffiness on the inside shows in brief spurts. Some think Nightmare’s weakness is the fact that inside of him, he has the capacity to do good, that his ability to care about other people is his downfall. That is what everyone else has been stupid enough to believe. Nightmare’s weakness is not his kindness, his capacity for good, or the beams of light that chase away the darkness. Instead, Nightmare’s downfall is the darkness itself. The brooding figure that wraps the darkness around him like a cloak is afraid of the darkness. Nightmare is afraid of what the darkness will do to him. He fears that the darkness will take him to a place that he won’t be able to return from. Since re-joining Sanctioned Violence Organization, I’ve made it my personal goal to irritate Nightmare to a point that his feelings for me become so clouded with hate that these bright lights begin to dim. And when they go out completely, Nightmare becomes an easy target. El Locon then puts his hands up and smirks a little bit, feeling some of the old swagger coming back. El Locon: And don’t worry, I’m sure Nightmare will see this and come up with some of the same tired and trite talk that we all know that he is capable of. And sure, we will expect Nightmare to try and screw me in my match with Sara Pettis this Sunday night. He will probably beat me down and attempt, if not succeed, at bloodying my face. But, I know and Nightmare knows that with each punch to the face and each splurt of blood, Nightmare pushes himself that farther to the edge. He pushes himself to the breaking point. The lightning flashes and a crack of thunder echoes in the distance. El Locon: Nightmare, I lie beyond your breaking point. To beat me… all you have to do is snap. In the paraphrased words of Emma Lazarus: Give me your punches, your kicks Your rage filled screams yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming disgust. Send these, your hate, your wrath to me, I lift my hands triumphant beside your unconscious body! El Locon smirks at the camera before turning away. He walks down the sidewalk into the night as lightning flashes once more. The camera fades to black. |
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2:31 PM Jul 11