Death Row TRASH TALKING THREAD

You know what to do. Get the fuck to it.

Oh PX...where areth thou? Its time to come out and play. See we barely got started on our little fight, and now you've rattled the cage to one very pissed off dog.

Do you realize what you've done?

Do you realize who exactly you managed to piss off?

I am Seth Omega. Wrestling is my life. Fighting is my passion. Respect is my strength.

Who are you?

PX. A man whom turned on his own flesh and blood. A man who has a very hard lesson coming his way. I hope you're ready PX, because you may just win this match...even if it is by disqualification.

Sweet dreams. I hope it eats at you like its eating at me.

I'm gonna fuck this pre-show up.

Randy St. James: Tell them Seth these people know nothing of passion, or honor. They only know chairs, cheating, and tables none of which is true wrestling. True wrestling is about respect, history, legacy. Full Metal Wrassling needs and overhaul and people like Seth Omega, Drew Michaels, Romeo, and my main man Steve are the ones to do it... Tell em Steve

Steve: You smell that Randy, it is in the air. The winds of change have come to FMW. This place has grown stale with complacency, with lack of desire. People just going through the motions no longer hungry. They stew around angry, upset, and frightened of us. They know in depths of thier hearts we are right and it is they who are going to pay the ultimate price. The fans of FMW are in need of real heros, people they can look upon with honor and respect, People they can look upon to aspire to be. I have all the qualities any parent would show to thier children and say this is the guy in world of wrestling you should be like. Not these other guys who do nothing but swing chairs, electrocute each other, or set people on fire.

The winds of change are here FMW and we select few are bringing them.

The overly bright room was bland in almost every possible way. From the slightly stained eggshell paint on the walls to the sandpaper like commercial grade carpet lining the floor it was the epitome of mundane. A well worn bench was jammed up against the wall. It was a sturdy wooden bench but the multitude of names, sketches, ditties and other graffiti carved into its surface made it impossible to unequivocally determine what type of wood it was originally constructed from.

"Ahem"

The uptight little man standing rigidly by the end of the bench fit the rest of the room perfectly.,Like just about every library clerk Abel had ever met he was unremarkable in almost every possible way right down to the budget rack slate coloured two piece suit he was wearing and the completely unstylized pair of black framed glasses resting perilously close to the end of his pug nose. The only thing missing was the suspenders.

"Huh. Oh its you again. Listen, I read all of those articles you brought me before, they all talk about Danse Macabre, but they aren't what I am looking for. They go through the members, their matches and when they joined, but it's not exactly telling me anything I hadn't heard about before."

The clerk snatched up the pile of newspaper articles and magazine entries from in front of Abel and trudged his way back toward the repository at the back of the state library that he had recently dug them up from. Even in his agitated state it was hard to pay him any more than a few moments attention, such was the humdrum nature of the man.

I can't blame him for being upset. He has spent the entire afternoon digging up any reference to Danse Macabre held in the State's biggest reference database only to have me tell him over and over to try again. Everything I have read about these guys makes no sense, there appears to be no rational reason for the existence of Danse Macabre as an entity."

Turning back to the small pile of books in front of him once more, Abel shifted his attention on his other investigations. He picked up the hefty title from atop the pile and traced his fingers over the embossed title on the cover. "FMW - The Evolution of Professional Wrestling" was a rather vapid retelling of FMW's history but it did provide some first hand accounts of previous Gold Card Gauntlet events.

I bet I'm the first wrestler in history to hit the library to research an upcoming match.

It wasn't turning out anywhere as helpful as Abel had hoped. Despite reading countless articles on Danse Macabre he was still completely baffled by them. A group of misfit individuals and quasi leader who refused to acknowledge them until it suited his purposes made no sense to Abel. It seemed to him that this was definitely a case of the individual parts being greater than the whole.

Maybe they just aren't very bright?

Still, he had learned a little about the other competitors in the Gold Card Gauntlet. He wasn't sure exactly how that information could be of any use to him in the match, but Abel had been desperate to find something to take his mind off the disturbing events of the last few days. The betrayal by a woman who Abel had previously considered family still galled him. Every idle moment he had lead to yet more torturous consideration of how badly he had bungled things since his arrival in FMW.

If he could restart the events of the past weeks he would but there was no point to crying over spilled milk. He had thrown himself into preparing completely and utterly for his upcoming match. After twenty four solid hours at the gym, Abel had decided he could only train so much and so he had found himself here.

Searching for answers that you know don't exist. Yet another example of an ever burgeoning insanity.

Abel shook his head at himself as he delved deep into another of the litany of works stacked in front of him. He was confused and lost, with his entire world stood on its head. The only thing he could clasp to was the folded scrap of paper he could feel inside the pocket of his jeans. The picture depicted on the back in crayon was of Abel holding aloft a championship belt. It was the only tangible memory of T.J. he could salvage from the ruin of his life.

It was also the primary driving force in his new commitment to succeed for himself, and for T.J. in an endeavour that was previously only ever a pursuit of necessity.

Danse Macabre, Apostasy, Gray and Jack Eastwood, I am ready. Let's do this.

How can I be ready? That was me lying there, motionless and empty. Why? Why am I here when my body was on that bed. We have to get it back!!

Abel knuckled his temple as Tim's voice droned on and on in his mind, wailing for his body to be returned. He was learning to temper the intrusion into his thoughts as he resolved himself to the idea of a second persona living within his head.

Still, as usual, Tim has a point. I have to do something about what I saw. I can't leave Tim lying there on that hospital bed, locked away in secret forever.

After Death Row

Abel smiled to himself. Not for the first time Tim's thoughts resonated in his mind, echoing his own.

Yeah...., after Death Row.

No way Seth. No way is anybody going to lecture me about turning my back on my blood, and I'll tell you why.

You see, 'bout three years ago, when me and Celt were starting out here, way before your time, we were a team. Not a great team, but a team. And Celt made a desicion and he turned his back on me. He betrayed me back then. Turnabout is fair game, Seth. Celt knows this isn't any different to what he did to me.

Still, I didn't want it to come to this. But we all have to make desicions. Was it the right one? I'm going to find out soon enough. And until then, nobody is going to judge me before I do so myself. I am my sole judge.

So for now, good luck to you. And i will admit, it is eating at me too.

OOC: i quite like the new array of smileys, if thats one consolation.

Turn the other cheek. You could of fucking left it be. You could of left Celt alone, yet you sought after more? I can't argue with results...it has gotten you a shot at MY Television Title.

That's right, I called it mine. Why? Because I'm willing to destroy any and everyone in my path to my goal.

Black. White. It doesn't matter to me.

I respect everyone I'm in the ring with, however I also want to destroy them. I want to hit them as hard as they hit me, then some. I want them to know that respect isn't just a word, respect is earned.

Respect is blood, sweat, and tears. Come prepared PX. Very prepared.

Steve Monroe wrote:

Randy St. James: Tell them Seth these people know nothing of passion, or honor. They only know chairs, cheating, and tables none of which is true wrestling. True wrestling is about respect, history, legacy. Full Metal Wrassling needs and overhaul and people like Seth Omega, Drew Michaels, Romeo, and my main man Steve are the ones to do it... Tell em Steve

You are delusional if you think Seth is NOT any of those things you mentioned. Chairs and cheating? Seth's specialty. Respect? Seth may talk until he is blue in the face (and my ears start to bleed) but he has no understanding of respect and what it means. Self indulgence and narcissism is the hallmarks of Omega.

If you want to see what respect means in the FMW look up Celt or Johanson. These people don't talk about having peoples respect, nor do the demand it from others. They have simply earned respect through self sacrifice and honour.

A lone gull standing atop a salt stained rock, worn smooth from eons of howling wind and rain, spoiled the postcard perfect horizon. Its scraggly form huddled against the piercingly cold wind that howled toward the coast and smashed upon the sparsely vegetated sand dunes like a blacksmith’s hammer pounding against an anvil. The ocean glimmered as the amber tinged sunlight of the pre dawn sky played erratically off the choppy surf.

The beach was not empty. Here an elderly couple walked hand in hand along the beach as they enjoyed each others company in the early morning calm. There a twenty something woman jogged along the dual use footpath, her ample chest bouncing to the rhythm of her loping gait as she doggedly pushed her way into the relentless wind.

Far away on the horizon, beyond the crashing waves and troughs that cycled their way toward the shore, a formation of jagged rocks erupted from water. The locals referred to those rocks as the “The Hand of God”. From the shore it appeared as though a giant hand had been thrust toward heaven, the “fingers” curling inward as though trying to grasp something just beyond reach. No one on the shore noticed the solitary figure standing tall upon the highest rock, unswerving in the face of the howling wind and unflinching as the waves rattled the rock with their unfaltering barrage of blows.

Abel Steele felt the swaying beneath his feet, the goosebumps formed upon his skin and the dampness of his clothes from the spray generated by the constant crash of waves. He was aware of these things, but in the sanctity of his mind they were peripheral at most.

One more time

A flurry of fists flew as Abel completed his training regime for the seventh time this morning, once for each opponent in the upcoming Gold Card Gauntlet match. Combinations of punches that were no less powerful for their stunning speed, began slashing the air in front of him with unwavering precision. The top of the rock was no more than two feet in diameter but Abel consistently shuffled his stance, footwork in perfect synchronisation with the destructive blows being practiced.

I have never been involved in a fight like this. Boxing has no equivalent to a Gauntlet match

Dallas Roland,
Gabriel Crow,
Damien Inferno,
Black Marcus,
Gray,
Apostasy,
Jack Eastwod.

Slowly, deliberately, Abel fed each name into the flame that burned within the chasm of emotion that was his conscious mind. There would be no fears for him in this match. Neither the number of opponents, nor the opponents themselves would cause him concern come Death Row.

My opponents will fear me.

No, they cannot fear what is beyond their perception. They will fear ME.

Are we not the same now, you and I?

No. We are separate, to think otherwise would be to truly accept my insanity. You are a part of me for now Tim, but we remain two entities.

Then they will fear us

Abel finished the final stages of his training routine. His razor sharp muscles flowing like a serpent between different punching formations. His body was a weapon, more destructive than any chair, more precise than any kendo stick. His mind was the driver of that weapon and he wielded it with the skill and care any blade master displayed in the use of his sword. Abel had initially feared that the presence of two minds occupying his head would lead to a dissection of the focus that would drive his body, but the result had been the opposite. He could now function in perfect harmony with Tim, identifying threats and opportunities with unparalleled clarity and efficiency. It would seem that two minds really are better than one.

Yes…. They WILL fear us.

Skyler,

You could save yourself a lot of money by only posting your letters to people who give a fuck

Abel Steele wrote:

Skyler,

You could save yourself a lot of money by only posting your letters to people who give a fuck

Easty wrote:

Or by usin' e-mail, ye daf' sod.

Oh how the dogs come running at the smell of blood. Piss off you disrespectful rookies and save your breath for a point where needed.

Your words are not required here, so I suggest you simply walk away...

Leon Caprice wrote:

Oh how the dogs come running at the smell of blood. Piss off you disrespectful rookies and save your breath for a point where needed.

Your words are not required here, so I suggest you simply walk away...

Oh yes because what you're saying is so much more necessary.

But it's good to see the lap dog protecting the hand that feeds, not biting it.

Wai', 'ang on. Ye an' Skyler beat me fer my Tag titles, break my fuckin' par'ner's neck an' then ye 'ave the fuckin' nerve to call me a rookie? Oh boy. Not again. I'm gonna kick the shi' ou' o' ye, ye Aussie prick.

Anybody got any idea what the hex code was for the [anx] colour on the old boards?

Oh hi there Eric, managed to resurface again, splendid...

Now in which ever way you conclude your opinions to project my actions to be the receiving end of condescendence from Skyler then you are sadly misinformed.

For without sounding overly cheesy, Skyler and I are a tag team. Thus if one of us is to be under fire the other shall rise to assist.

But hey, I don't need to lecture you about Tag Teams, we both remember Catalyst...Oh what a tag team you had then...

So lighten up there, keep your words soft, and direct them to someone who they would have meaning to.

Because right now, you’re nothing to me.

EDIT:OOC: It doesn't alert if someone’s posted in between posts, I didn't overlook you Easty

IC: Oh I remember Eastwood, you lost, I won, your tag partner got injured and you feel into the abyss. But I'm glad to see you back to your norm-... Ahh, well glad to see you back. But really, your petty remarks are that of a Rookie, I thought you were more directive than that. I though you were more driven than that. Come'on, I know you've changed but don't go soft on me.

But my point still stands, your nothing to me right now, in no way should I nor will I care about what you do... So go run along now... continue your monologue.

Leon Caprice wrote:

Oh hi there Eric, managed to resurface again, splendid...

Now in which ever way you conclude your opinions to project my actions to be the receiving end of condescendence from Skyler then you are sadly misinformed.

For without sounding overly cheesy, Skyler and I are a tag team. Thus if one of us is to be under fire the other shall rise to assist.

But hey, I don't need to lecture you about Tag Teams, we both remember Catalyst...Oh what a tag team you had then...

So lighten up there, keep your words soft, and direct them to someone who they would have meaning to.

Because right now, you’re nothing to me.

Catalyst, tag team?

The fuck you smokin' pop-eye?

This is that funny thing called a debut, I haven't had one and thus I haven't had a match for you to remember retarded little Skyler junior. Shame Jade got all the smarts in that family, and you aren't even really apart of it.

As for you're actions, did someone higher on the totem pole reach down and lift you higher? Is all they asked a little glimpse of your special place to make all your dreams come true? If so then you have been taken under the wing, and the way you have to relate everything back to him in order to maintain relevance only proves that point.

But hey I'm nothing why should you care? In fact why did you even bother to try and talk to me. Well little skipper allow me to shed some light on the truth for you. It's because no matter how hard you try to call me nothing, want to insult me, you're threatened by me. I don't blame you, I'm an impressive man, but it does help me with how I was going to tie my catch phrase into this.

I may be nothing.

But nothing will always be better than you.

.....damn, kinda weak. Ah well, with opposition like this you really don't need the A...B.....X game.

Doublemummy wrote:

You know I've noticed something around here. There seems to be a lot of whining going on around here about someone sending out letters that cost him too much money ... well I have a few suggestions for that.

1. Instead of sending out lots of little letters, how bout you save up all your little letters and add them into one big one and send it out about once a year?

2. You could just not bother sending them at all.

Although if you insist on sending so many out, how about for Christmas you just ask Santa for a huge box of writing paper, envelopes and stamps? That'd make your life a bit easier now wouldn't it?

And maybe while you're there talking to Santa you could ask him for a set of testicles coz from what I've seen around here you seem to have lost yours!

Or maybe for christmas, you can have your first match and job for santa...

What is with you rookies and newbies spitting out words to people that don't care. Stop hogging the air time and go beat up an elf.

Leon Caprice wrote:

Or maybe for christmas, you can have your first match and job for santa...

What is with you rookies and newbies spitting out words to people that don't care. Stop hogging the air time and go beat up an elf.

Sure thing Gene Eric, have anything else that's been said fifty million times before to add?

Going against a fat guy and an elf? Isn't that a bit too close to what you're going to be doing? Or was that going to be too difficult for you so you're gonna go against a woman and a ... well whatever the hell Faith is?

Leon Caprice wrote:

EDIT:OOC: It doesn't alert if someone’s posted in between posts, I didn't overlook you Easty

IC: Oh I remember Eastwood, you lost, I won, your tag partner got injured and you feel into the abyss. But I'm glad to see you back to your norm-... Ahh, well glad to see you back. But really, your petty remarks are that of a Rookie, I thought you were more directive than that. I though you were more driven than that. Come'on, I know you've changed but don't go soft on me.

But my point still stands, your nothing to me right now, in no way should I nor will I care about what you do... So go run along now... continue your monologue.

You sure? 'Cause it did for me.

Yes, well apologies for Our feeling out of sorts, but We're struggling, what with the move and all...

Even my voice feels funny.

However, as you wish, I shall continue the diatribe. Caprice, don't think yourself above Eastwood for a second. As it happens you two have quite a lot in common - both young, talented wrestlers, who were taken under the wing of more experienced, title-winning competitors and managing to luck yourselves into winning the Undisputed Tag Titles. I could be talking about either of you. The specifics are a little different, but I digress.

Your current problem, Leon, seems to be that you truly are becoming Skyler-Lite, despite your whining insistances that you are not. How so? Well, you seem to think yourself above everyone else in your 'Class Of...', looking down on them with scorn, trying to pump yourself up to be something you clearly are not.

You lucked out, boy, let's never forget that. If dear, sweet, old, doddering Jaro hadn't decided to start picking on Celt and Johannson for shits and giggles, you and your law-fighting Australian counterpart may still be languishing around doing sweet FA. And Skyler, the supposed good man that he is (I should know - he was my first pick, remember) plucked you up from the ground, dusted you off and said to you "Hey, you know what'll be fun? Breaking necks and taking championships that aren't ours!" And you swallowed it all with a shit-eating grin and did just that. Congratu-fucking-lations.

Its been so long, almost 12 years since I started wrestling. I've been to the top of indy feds, I've wrestled in Japan, I've been dropped onto thumbtacks, hit with light tubes, thrown through tables, lit on fire, you name I've done it. I've come all this way only for people to still call me a rookie. People don't show respect to the rookies, they write them off like they are nothing. But what are the rookies really? Well the rookies are the future of Full Metal Wrestling. The rookies are the ones who are traveling down the path we've paved, and soon enough will start paving their own path. The rookies are the ones that Skyler Striker and Leon Caprice will have to put over in the future.

Do you know when your time is light is up? Or is someone just going to come along and take your time away from you? Will it be Faith and VanGuard?

Or maybe not...

Rumor has it VanGuard may not be around. Rumor has it Faith will have to find another partner.

Is Crash Scene ready for that?

Leon Caprice wrote:

Abel Steele wrote:

Skyler,

You could save yourself a lot of money by only posting your letters to people who give a fuck

Easty wrote:

Or by usin' e-mail, ye daf' sod.

Oh how the dogs come running at the smell of blood. Piss off you disrespectful rookies and save your breath for a point where needed.

Your words are not required here, so I suggest you simply walk away...

Firstly maybe we should analyse your response. I merely pointed out that your pal should consider saving himself the trouble of sending letters to someone who is hell bent on his path to "redemption". Sending those letters to Drew is about as effective as calling Eastwood and asking him to stop being a fuck up. It just ain't gonna get you anywhere. But since you take my words as disrespectful, maybe you are the one who thinks that no one gives a fuck about Skyler?

Secondly watch your mouth.

Leon Caprice wrote:

Or maybe for christmas, you can have your first match and job for santa...

What is with you rookies and newbies spitting out words to people that don't care. Stop hogging the air time and go beat up an elf.

And this right the fuck here is the attitude that is killing Full Metal Wrestling. Why should rookies and "newbies" have less of a say? Why should they not speak the truth as they see, that Skyler Red and Skyler Blue are nothing more then elitist assholes who look over talent because they are in the exact same place you were not too long ago. I remember when you debuted Leon, does that automatically put you below me at all times? No, your lack of any type of distinguishing features and general bitch-like subservient attitude does that.


By your "logic" Direct-To-DVD Skyler, you are below me. By my logic, you are below me. Seems like the general consensus is that you are below me and not worth my time but do not fret Skyler Striker Episode II: Attack of the Bland, I will still find time to remove you and your cancerous master from this company and save it from your elitist attitude because that is the kind of guy I am.

OOC: LOL. Too bad I have nothing to say yet.

Don't worry Drew, I am going to show all of FMW what a Rookie's worth is all about. Screw this Battle Royal, I may not even show as it isnt wrestling. Put me in a match with one of these so called vets,and I will trounce them.

Steve Monroe wrote:

Don't worry Drew, I am going to show all of FMW what a Rookie's worth is all about. Screw this Battle Royal, I may not even show as it isnt wrestling. Put me in a match with one of these so called vets,and I will trounce them.

Oh, then you must be Eric Ares, the man meant to revolutionize, revitalize, and all around sexisize Full Metal Wrestling.

Oh wait, that's me.

S'alright Jimmy, second best is okay.

For losers.

Losers like you.