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Smile! You're On Camera!
Topic Started: Mar 13 2011, 05:23 AM (34 Views)
Joof
sVo Champion
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
BANG. BANG. BANG.

Nathan Paradine lowered his fist, rubbing his right hand over the knuckles on his left as they reddened. He'd been at it for about five minutes now, attracting odd stares from anyone who happened to walk past and the longer time went on the louder and more persistent his knocking became. He scowled and stared down at the plain wooden door leading into the office of Matt Anderson which hadn't budged an inch.

He slammed the side of his fist into the door, making it shake in its frame. His brow furrowed as a single bead of sweat formed on his forehead which he wiped away in irritation. The door remained unmoved and he finally lowered his hand and grasped the doorknob, turning it swiftly. He blinked in surprise as the door swung open, revealing Anderson's darkened office before stepping across the threshold and closing the door again swiftly. The first thing he notices is the absence of Matt Anderson. The lights are off, the office is neat and tidy and it doesn't look like he's been there today. Paradine places his hands on his hips and sighs.

"Well, that's disappointing," Paradine muttered. He turned around to leave, however a sudden flash of inspiration prompted him to walk across the office to Anderson's desk, sitting down in the high-backed leather chair and throwing his feet up onto the desk, settling down with his hands cushioning his head. He looks around the office from this position, noticing nothing out of the ordinary apart from the filing cabinets, photographs and furniture that were usually situated in the room. One object however did catch his attention and that was a small, sleek video camera sitting on the desk. Paradine raised his eyebrow and picked it up, examining it from all angles.

"Now, isn't that a funny coincidence?" he grinned, opening the camera up and discovering a small memory card inside. He turned the camera on and set it to "Record", placing it down on the desk in front of him. He leaned forwards and clicked his fingers. "Check, check. Is this thing on? I think it is."

He chuckled and clasped his hands together, staring directly into the camera. He cleared his throat with a loud cough and began to speak, attempting to sound sincere.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, fans of the sVo of all ages... you're watching a message directly from my heart, a message from the true messiah of professional wrestling... the one and only Nathan Paradine. Now, doubtless this video will end up circulating around, it might end up on Youtube where it'll go viral and I'll end up like the guy who sang "Chocolate Rain" or the Star Wars Kid. It might end up on TMZ, where it'll shatter the collective mind of all the star-obsessed sheep looking for their fix on how crazy Charlie Sheen is today, or what else Lindsay Lohan has shoplifted and make me the most sought after celebrity in Hollywood. Hell, for this performance I might even get an Oscar for "Greatest Performance on Camera Ever" which is what happens whenever I appear on a television screen. But, I'm starting to ramble now. I need to get across a message to you all and I don't care about the reaction. You might like it, you might hate it, you might skip through it and some of you, a few of you, might even understand my genius. It doesn't matter how you react to it... you just need to remember what I said when it's all over."

"Now, look around me. I'm sitting in Matt Anderson's office, which in normal circumstances would mean I'm here to either complain or something along those lines. But Anderson isn't around, which speaks volumes about the lack of "organization" in this company. I guess Sanctioned Violence just didn't have quite the same ring to it, you know? Now, what I came here to talk to Anderson about probably isn't all that important. You know how it goes, I walk in here, I trade verbal barbs with the boss for a bit, then we reach some kind of a resolution. Now, despite however my meeting with Anderson turned out, I'd probably then go and destroy whichever poor fool had the misforturne to be booked against me on that particular night, because that's kinda my thing. I'd come out like the winner I am, and Anderson comes out as, well... an asshole. As usual."

Paradine attempts to shrug apologetically, however he can't quite manage to pull it off.

"But this week... this week is going to be a little different, since it'll be two servings of ass-kick in one sitting. If you can all stretch your minds back a few weeks, and I know it's difficult when for most of you your gray matter has all but been rotted away by twinkies, cheap beer and too much redneck television but I want you to try, you'll remember that the first time we tagged together we beat James Von Drake and Benedict Wilson. Now, I can have an ounce of respect for JVD considering his win in the Victory Cup last year, no small feat. However... who are our opponents in the grand follow-up match? A couple of Canucks who according to their online profiles are "one of the best technical wrestlers the world has ever seen" and the other is some sort of tag team wunderkind. I'm scared... not."

"Now, I've watched both promos these guys whipped out. Excuse me for saying so, but I got about halfway through each one before I dozed off, so while it wasn't so good at intimidating me it has proven to be a great lullaby. Now, I think it goes without saying that I can sit here in my bosses office with a handheld video camera, no props, no multiple scenes or stupid gimmicks, I can sit here and I can successfully entertain millions of fans across the world. And yet you, Crippler, you need a goddamn sob story and some sort of budget advertisement to make whatever pointless crock you have to say interesting enough to warrant time on television. The same goes for your part Chris Wrestling who appears to think the sound of his own voice is enough to get his message across. Guess what, it isn't."

"Just like Bobby Dean, these two men need to mask themselves behind an illusion to get noticed. And I'm sure you've all seen what I do to people who step into the ring with me, generally they don't step back out again. These two men, they need help to like like a credible threat to Second to None. They need to maintain the image that they're cool, calm and collected, however they've failed to even show a basic understanding of who exactly they're up against. I'm not a hardcore wrestler. I'm the man who is going to turn the Canadian Crippler into the Crippled Canadian, courtesy of one of my trademark submission maneuvers. And Chris Wrestling? He'll have to change his name when I'm done with him, since he'll be lucky to drink his meals through a straw let alone try and pretend he actually stands a chance of ever being as great as yours truly."

Paradine smirked and flicked the power on the camera off, ejecting the tape and putting it into his pocket. He then stood up and walked out of the office, managing to avoid attention, before slipping around a corner and out of sight.

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