NO HOLDS BARRED Trash Talking Thread

Gray. . . . *Damien once again pulls out his lighter and flicks it open and closed repeatedly*

And Eastwood, Blaze is a plagiarizing moron who's too caught up trying to prove he isn't a twifag. Do I look like a fuckin' vampire to you?

I'm a wizard. Get the shit straight.

Because that sounds infinitely less insane than being a vampire!

You, just want to get power bombed through a flamin' table, don't you, buddy?

You...really have a fetish for putting people through tables that are on fire, don't you? It's like the only thing you think of. That's kind of weird. Maybe we should get you a psych eval, there's some deep-rooted psychological issues at work here.

. . . . . . .

You even joke about a psych eval again, and I will beat you into a bloody, bruised pulp.

Ooc: and now we hit a sore spot lol.

Very deep psychological issues. I'll have to talk to some people about this. Don't worry Damien, we'll get you the help you need, even if I'm joking.

This is what the so called "Trash Talking" has come to now? Tag Team partners "opening up" and "sharing"? Yeesh, I know the Wayward Sons were a train wreck, despite our tag title reign, but we were never this...pitiful.

The sad thing is, I'm too apathetic to say anything worthwhile so...

Gray, Inferno, the floor continues to be yours.

I'd honestly rather relive the horrors of "velvet oasis" than this banal storm of literal garbage, though.

I love you too, Chris.

*shivers*

This is as close to a compliment as you'll get...

You could be worse.

Damien wrote:

First off, Jonny, I'm a touch more worried about that match because I could, you know, possibly die.

Second, you really shouldn't have brought my attention to you. I'm in a bad enough mood already, but then, when someone starts threatening me like that, veiled though it may be, well, that just pisses me off.

Watch your back, Jonny-boy.

Jonathon King: You're probably right, it might not be smart of me to piss off one of my opponents, but guess what? Doing the smart thing is boring. I made you angry, which to me is fun. It's fun now, and it will be fun in the ring. I piss you off, you get distracted from the electric chair match, you get fried, you lose the tag team scramble. You see how this works? Making a crazy person angry might not be the smartest thing I've ever done, but I'll be damned if it isn't one of the most fun.

Uhh actually, genius, the tag scramble is a few matches before the electric chair match.

But, either way, if you'd like your face kicked in and your spine all bruised up, I'm sure Nick and I could oblige.

Jonathon: Oh hey, so it is. Oh well, not like I give a damn, Dunn will kick your ass anyway. Hmmmm, I suppose I could still beat the crap out of you in the Scramble though, just as a good-will offering. I mean, it never hurts to make nice with your teammates....

Oh, I'm sorry, were you actually going to say something interesting?

OOC: Mini-promo.

IC:

The San Jose Sharks have lost.

The San Francisco Giants have lost Buster Posey. I have effectively lost significant interest in sports now. Today, is a bad day and it's the culmination of a lot of frustration, stemming from my extensive study of one Christian G. Smitten.

I have pored over countless hours of footage, and yet something seems off. It is clear to see that while he hasn't lost a step in the ring, for some reason or another he has not been able to consistently turn his effort into a victory. He has lost to lesser competition despite being the clear class of the wrestlers in the ring at any given time.

And I ask myself could that be me one day? I answer no because I have had those moments before. I have lost to those I felt myself to be better than.

No one is immune to a rude awakening.

However, I must not struggle to get past the fact that Smitten is dangerous. I know and accept this fact without hesitation. I am pleased that I issued a challenge to Smitten because I know a match with Smitten is one I will be pressed to bring my best to. That is one thing I have always admired.

Christian G. Smitten can bring effort out of people and for that, among other things, I respect him.

But I do not particularly like him and I do not see myself losing to him because, while it is at this juncture that he is most dangerous... I have never been better.

But we are all prone to regression. The key is to control that fleeting moment and to fend it off until said regression doesn't cost you significantly.

In order to clear my mind and to retain focus, I decide to go on what is fast becoming a patented "night walk". During these minutes I find myself immersed in the underbelly of Halifax, Nova Scotia. I guess that song was on to something when it said "The freaks come out at night".

An athletic freak, that is. A freak for knowledge, superiority, dominance. A freak for chilling, emotionless bastardized behavior. I am many things.

And I accept them.

But there are some things I do not accept.

I do not accept being made into a joke. I do not accept effort that is less than the maximum. But there are few things that bother me more, than seeing my hard work, my time and what have you tossed away in the gutter.

Lucky for me, I no longer have to worry about that.

It is here that the wind picks up, I bow my head in order to keep hold on the hood that shrouds me in mystery. A lot of people always say you should walk with your head up, shows confidence. I don't think you need to show confidence to have confidence.

Besides, stepping in rat shit or hobo vomit, or on the rare occasion bodily fluids isn't something I'd like to experience if I can help it. And considering I spend most of my time in dark alleys you could guess that these are issues I take special care to avoid.

It is here where I am intercepted by a soiled tramp of a woman. She stumbles towards me, she reeks of alcohol and trash, maybe a hint of tobacco.

She grabs onto me in order to break what has to be another fall. She looks towards me, desperately trying to focus her lost eyes onto mine. She slurs out her, I guess, cat call.

"H-heyyyyy there...Luh-looking for a good time?"

A whore.

A filthy, disgusting whore... I callously grab her by the arms and "nudge" her out of my path.

"WEL- WELL, FU-FUCK YOOU TOO, BITCH!"

Warms my heart actually. As I dust off my gloved hands, I find that I need lesser people such as this to throw stones. Makes me feel better about myself in some sick way. I continue to walk, make a left and then I happen upon something that I did not need to see.

Just off behind a dumpster, I see the back of what looks to be a man. I can barely see anything so I choose to keep walking right by him... but as I near, his head goes back...

And I hear sounds that cannot be mistaken.

He is currently in the process of catching herpes from some gutter slut that is on her knees. I choose to turn around and not disturb their dance with suffering but I notice how he has found himself a spot where he is shrouded in the dark, yet there is just enough light to illuminate the activity.

So she can see what she's doing I guess.

I think to myself, "It's a damn blowjob. Who cares whether she can see what she's doing? If one is outside for this sort of action, clearly being seen by anyone that isn't a cop is the last thing on his or her mind. What kind of nit-picky loser with delusions of grandeur about sexual acts, places this much time and effort into a largely forgettable experience?"

I then laugh to myself because I used to be this loser, as some well know. I was quite pitiful back then.

Some say I am even more pitiful now. I laugh at them and wait for when I may show them the errors of their ways. I wish to leave them be, but a voice keeps telling me to look back. I choose not to but in my peripheral I catch something that utterly incenses me.

A small tattoo on the man's wrist. Because of his now ill-fated decision to stand under light, I can see that it is one of a snake coiling around the wrist.

A Black Mamba. I immediately think that Jessica has not only returned to her trashy ways, but she did so at the expense of my former friend, Alex O'Rion.

All of my hard work has gone for naught.

So I react. I rush the poor fellow and knock him forward, ruining his experience.

"What the fuck just...who the hell?!?!!?"

He can't even pull his pants up in time to stop me. I toss him forcefully into the dumpster, the noise sends cats, rats and what have scattering. Jessica screams, she is unsure what is happening. He tries to fight back, even managing to get a couple of shots to my gut in, but he is clearly overmatched and not in a good position to defend himself.

His odds grow even slimmer when I drop him with a left hand and produce my trusty baton. You never know when you will be provoked.

A loud crack echos throughout the grimy walls of this alley as he falls limp. I quickly go to Jessica, who is paralyzed in fear. I grab her by the hair and drag her to where her john lays and push her down.

The guy tries to get up, but another loud crack quells his efforts. I'm pretty sure I cracked his skull then. So I keep striking as the clearly shaken woman screams in horror.

With every crack, my arm begins to burn, my heart begins to race, my adrenaline begins to rush. One more shot ought to do it and with that final blow, I hear the ugly splatter of blood and bits of brain matter as it most likely begins to stain this alley even more.

And then I turn my attention towards that whore Jessica.

She wasted all of my effort...

And I grab her.



"How dare you do this to me? I risked my ass for you, and you go and do this? I should have let them rape you Jessica. I should have let them mutilate you.

I guess I'll have to do it myself."

You know, I've never really given a moment of clarity like this before. Never been met with an opportunity as prime as this. I rip open her shirt as she yells for me to stop. I grab her about the throat and pull her to the light so I can get a good look at the bitch that spit on my caring efforts.

And so she may see me for what I really am.

But something terrible happens.

I see her face, tears streaming down it, lipstick smudged all about and I realize that she is not Jessica.

She is just some random burlap sack that was trying to get a quick buck. She shakes, she trembles. I can see and feel pure and unequivocal fright overcoming her. She is likely to go into shock. I ask myself what have I done and thank God that my identity is roughly concealed because of my habit of wearing hoodies and lack of proper hair care.

She manages to force out, "Please...don't kill me... Please..."

I then realize that I never paid attention to her saying, "GET OFF MY BOYFRIEND!"

A weird feeling courses through my chest. I think it is called remorse. I sigh and let her go, she slowly slides down the wall despondent before her skirt and then the rest of her, touches the cold, decrepit asphalt as she breathes quickly, panic wrapping her in a cocoon.

I look back at my handiwork, and see that there's no way he makes it through the night alive. I look back towards her, her hands over he face as she can no longer hold in her sadness, having witnessed a complete stranger assault her lover.

I walk away, not a sound coming from my body as I can hear her crawling across the ground towards what is left of her beau.

I look up and I realize that despite my "remorse", I guess, towards her...

What I did to him wasn't something I share a similar feeling for.

I guess Ray Lewis may have stumbled upon a gem of a thought when he said crime would increase without football... but this remorse feeling is only temporary.

After all, what I do to Christian G. Smitten will be a case of mistaken identity as well. I will see him as the former Full Metal Wrestling Champion, former Superstar of the Year...

I will see him at his best, no matter what he may actually be.

This way, he will see me at my worst, if you get what I am saying.

You byes all really need to get laid.

Seriously, no way a bunch of guys getting some on a regular basis would be this pent up and angry.

Ah the single life, gods bless it.

Leviticastform wrote:

Jonathon don't mind them. I would have a chip on my shoulder to, if all I had was a bad gimmick and a team name my "sworn enemy". The fact of the matter is this, we have made the Gray Inferno relevant, just like we did with the Comeback Kids. We are not only more talented then them on every front but we are the only reason people care that they exist. It is sad yes, but an ugly truth. Another truth that is difficult for them to swallow is that we do want to help them. They hate that almost as much as they hate that we are right. what they don't see is all the good we are, and can be doing for them. If only they would open their eyes and minds as frequently as they do their mouths... Alas, there is only one way to get through to some people I am afraid, and get through to them we shall when we win the scramble match. Once we hold those titles high in victory, perhaps they will see all our points as valid and accept the things we have to offer them. Until then we will continue as we always have. Just remember FMW, we are not so easily ignored or denied. You may as well just accept things now, because you can not change them, and that will be made clear to you all very soon.

Leviticus, you GSW shit heads will win the scramble over my dead fuckin' body. Hell, the only hold you've ever held here was the Light Heavyweight Championship, which was fuckin' handed to you. And what did you do with it? Lost it to DGS, after which it fell right bavk into obscurity where it belongs.

After I'm finished fryng your buddy Dunn, watch your back. You're next.

OOC: lol late reply.

Jonathon: You know, O'Rion might be right, Damien really needs to get laid. It's almost sad really. Tell you what Damien, here's 2 grand. That should buy you one of New York's finest hookers. Consider it a gift from GSW.

First off, King, I have more money in my bank account than you. I don't brag about it or flash it around like you, but it's true.

Secondly, fuck you. I find it hypocritical that GSW employs a man of such low moral fiber when they preach of being better than FMW, morally and in terms of wrestling.

Jonathon: You see, I come pretty close to taking offense to that. It's possible you have more money than me, unlikely, but possible, but that's not what I'm taking offense too. I don't get what it is about being rich, but everyone assumes I have low moral fiber, even before I do anything. Is it the hookers? Because really, that's all I can think that I've done immoral since I got here, and if you're taking offense to prostitution, then you really need to look at the world around you. I mean really, you threatened to electrocute not just one, but two people, purely on grounds of ideological differences. All I do is flash some cash and pay women for sex. So you really do need to ask yourself, am I really the villain here?

Someone, anyone, can anyone explain to me what twisted logic Damien is using to call me immoral? I'm a pretty smart man, but I don't tend to deal with psychopaths.

I never said that I was a pillar of moral fiber myself. I was simply commenting on the hypocrisy of GSW, the supposed "high and mighty we're better than you FMW is immoral and dangerous" douchebags. Hell. I believe that one of your buddies recemtly condemned FMW for the supposed supplying of "hookers and blow" to its competitors. Being straight edge, I know nothing of any such things. But the point still stands that condemning a group for the employ of prostitutes and then hiring a man who does himself enjoy such services is hypocritical to say the least.

Jonathon: I don't think you quite get the point, or perhaps I don't. I'm not actually sure what my comrade was thinking when he said that, but I know what I feel. I feel that while there is certianly nothing wrong with hiring some companionship for cold nights away from home, the idea of a company supplying it's workers with something so potentially detrimental, not to mention illegal, is jarring. GSW neither approves of, nor supports the hiring of escorts, I just do it anyway. I'm not immoral, I'm just an ass.

You're correct. You don't get the point. Yet you seem to be doing your best to prove it. Beyond that, I have nothin' else to say to you.

Besides expect a broken nose and a dislocated jaw during the scramble.

Jonathon: These threats of violence from you are actually quite disheartening, but mostly because they're incredibly stupid. I mean, you get points for realism, but is the best threat you can come up with really "expect a broken nose"? Come on man, I know 6 year olds who could verbally rape you. Show some imagination man. How about "Mess with me and you'll wake up in traction"? Not necessarily original or realistic, but it's better than the shit you're trowing out.

Sure. I could say somethin' like "Shut your mouth before I boot so far up your ass, you'll taste rubber and leather for six months," but I prefer to let you know exactly what pain I'll pit you through. It makes the look on your face that mich funnier when I finally do it.

Ooc: allow me to say that I'm aware that my trash talk sucks. But, I'm in a shitty mood, so I need somethun to occupy me before I set my workplace on fire out of frustration. . . .

Yeah. Shitty joke.

Alex O'Rion wrote:

You byes all really need to get laid.

Seriously, no way a bunch of guys getting some on a regular basis would be this pent up and angry.

Ah the single life, gods bless it.

OOC: Dude, please tell me that you're lying about Alex O'Rion being single...

Do you realize the story arc implications of this decision? A lot of the stuff I wrote was based around your character still being involved with that Jessica character.

You have defeated the purpose of all of Austin's "honorable" deeds dammit!

IC:

...

...

This clearly is a joke. There is no way that you two can be single...

This IS a joke, right?

Damien wrote:

Sure. I could say somethin' like "Shut your mouth before I boot so far up your ass, you'll taste rubber and leather for six months," but I prefer to let you know exactly what pain I'll pit you through. It makes the look on your face that mich funnier when I finally do it.

Ooc: allow me to say that I'm aware that my trash talk sucks. But, I'm in a shitty mood, so I need somethun to occupy me before I set my workplace on fire out of frustration. . . .

Yeah. Shitty joke.

OOC: Eh, so does mine, I just have fun with it.

Jonathon: You know, that actually makes sense. I'm impressed that you were able to have a complete and logical thought through the layers and layers of brain damage and psychological issues that hinder your everyday life. Anyway, carry on, I have a party to go to.

Full Metal Wrestling Superstar Xander Kross Forced To Resign?!

CHICAGO, Illinois -

In a press junket promoting Lords of Pain Wrestling, CEO and Chairman of Public Enemy Multimedia, LLC. Damion Kross opened the event with a statement involving one Fredrick Douglas; a professional wrestler who performs under the alias of Xander Kross for both the aforementioned Lords of Pain Wrestling as well as Full Metal Wrestling. Here is a clip from the thirty minute interview:

Quote :

"Before we begin, I'd like to say something about brands. For those unaware of my history, I amassed my wealth by creating Public Enemy Multimedia; a brand that's goal was to uniquely distribute multiple forms of entertainment using the latest and most up to date technology for enrichment, education, and social awareness. Public Enemy Multimedia, for lack of better words, was a facilitator and broker that created a fusion of music, television, print, and internet, representing and dealing with titans of the entertainment industry such as NBC-Universal, Interscope Records, News Corporation, Time Warner, and the Walt Disney Company as well as teaching and providing for smaller entertainment groups cutting edge techniques in promotion, management, and cross-media marketing. This was my first experience in creating a brand and yet, due to the limitations of the current technology, this brokerage was incomplete and shortsighted.

With this in mind, I issued a leveraged buy-out my then partner, Richard Davis, and sold a majority of our company to a sole proprietor - Damien Samuels who turned Public Enemy Multimedia instead into a communal media trust and limited liability company in order to amass enough capitol to purchase Lords of Pain Wrestling. In this, I was his silent partner and a member of a two-man consortium that gradually expanded once I sold my minority stake to varied contacts I maintained in the industry with a singular goal in mind; create a brand-name for information brokering. What I mean by this is to update the means in which we communicate. Let us face it - our economy, despite how uncertain it is, is expanding to a global scale. But without the adequate tools and maintenance of these tools as well as an expansion into foreign markets that would otherwise be unable to afford the over-priced and sub-par data exchange infrastructure, it restricts both the economic and sociological human evolution. With this in mind and the small but liquid fortune to create Kross Industries and in meteoric fashion, it not only increased my personal wealth of which I am not ashamed but also has improved the wealth of knowledge for over twenty-two countries including impoverished nations such as Sierra Leone, Senegal, Afghanistan, Eritrea, Laos, The Philippine Islands, Thailand, and Tajikistan to name but a few.

It was then that I returned to find my first brand was being misused and mistreated by a sour child throwing a temper tantrum. His expenditures and overhead far outweighed the value of the stock options. His capitol gains were anemic. Pay per view buys were still in the cellar. And the commercial and critical failure of Public Enemy Multimedia's first feature film forced me to take action. With the tactile help of Andrew Michaels, a fellow comrade and admittedly worthy rival, we took action to save both Public Enemy Multimedia and Lords of Pain Wrestling from tyranny. Now look what you see before you. We are the premiere shoot wrestling federation on the planet. Where others would substitute the so-called 'four letter word' of wrestling with sports entertainment, I am proud to display our noble heritage to remind our fans that we are humbled and grateful for their patronage. I take these uses of buzz words for political-friendly agendas and pandering as a personal slight; is my contribution as a wrestler not good enough? Has not my name any value? Does not my brand matter? Well according to one Fredrick Douglas, an independent contractor beneath my employ who uses the pseudonym 'Xander Kross', it has enough value to steal.

Mr. Douglas, without my consent, is using the trademarked name of Kross in a most foul and repugnant manner that is both disrespectful to me and disrespectful to my brand. In lieu of this, I am obligated to remind Mr. Douglas that his services as a wrestler and the persona of 'Xander Kross' are contractually obligated to Lords of Pain Wrestling whilst the brand name of 'Kross' is owned by Kross Industries. His extra-curricular activities in other, lesser promotions are to cease once he fulfills his paid obligation or else he will suffer the impunity of legal recourse. Now then..onto happier matters.."

No word yet on how this effects Xander Kross for the long-term future who couldn't be reached as of this writing for further comment.

RCA wrote:

Alex O'Rion wrote:

You byes all really need to get laid.

Seriously, no way a bunch of guys getting some on a regular basis would be this pent up and angry.

Ah the single life, gods bless it.

OOC: Dude, please tell me that you're lying about Alex O'Rion being single...

Do you realize the story arc implications of this decision? A lot of the stuff I wrote was based around your character still being involved with that Jessica character.

You have defeated the purpose of all of Austin's "honorable" deeds dammit!

IC:

...

...

This clearly is a joke. There is no way that you two can be single...

This IS a joke, right?

There goes like 6 months of planning, right?

The Linguist: By the end of the night, the only thing they'll be leaving with is a few bites, and a crippling blow to their credibility. That goes the same for the bullies of FMW and a duo of deep south pond scum. The FMW Tag Team Championhip will be someone that won't disgrace the name of this company with their presence. SoSB will be one to make sure these bullies know their place.

SoSB, pulling out a sign he written on earlier.

Son of Shark Boy + a tag team partner = New FMW Tag Team Champions

The Linguist: See? The math is already simple enough for even a first grader to understand.