Post by wwjbcd on Mar 23, 2016 3:12:27 GMT
Egos descend like meteorites, leaving the Earth pockmarked and smoldering. Arising from the smoke and ash are two humanoid forms. As they cool and move away from their sites of impact, they're easily recognizable as Kurt Newman and Johnny Bonecrusher! They spot each other and their eyes glow, burning with the hatred of a thousand treacheries. They charge! They kick up much dust as they accelerate toward each other. They roar with the intensity of lions entering their final battle. They raise their fists, ready to lay into the other, and as their blows land true, they explode!!
New Japan presents: Retribution.
"Yeah, retribution for The Johnny, execution for Kurt Newman!"
Yes, our previous scene was indeed an amazing CGI-animated advertisement for this Saturday night's Retribution super-show. But the voice heard right afterwards could never be replicated.
Somewhere, somewhere, where one could only imagine (and most certainly guess correctly), stands an intense Johnny Bonecrusher standing in front of a black curtain with the NJFC logo seen directly above it. He clasps his hands and breathes heavily. He is ready. He is willing. He is able! Oh, and he is speaking!
"Hellooo, Newman."
Never before has that statement been uttered with anything but disdain, but now JBC's gone ahead and topped it off with some real-ass negative sentiment.
"If Yours Truly didn't know any better, he'd think you were pulling a fast one on me! Me, the troll in all of this? Moi?! Well, Kurt, that makes you one of several things: either a pathological liar, a deluded sociopath, or just plain ol' fashioned dumb. You cheap-shot me, but no, I'm the troll, yeah, okay, yeah. Well folks, I'm not gonna make things easier for you and everybody else when I knock Kurt into a permanent stupor, but hey, them's the breaks."
Johnny then looks around, suddenly starting to look confused. He looks down at himself, then looks up to the sky, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, look what I'm missing here! One sec, folks."
He then leaves camera shot, returning moments later with the Global Championship. He breathes on it and shines it with his forearm, looking upon it with pride.
"The Global Championship. My... Global Championship, Kurt. All your insults, all your allegations, all your slanderous regurgitation, none of that can take away from me being the champion here! Look, I didn't have to come to the NJFC again. I didn't have to participate in that battle royal. But I did, and I did. And I won. And I retained. And I'm going to retain again this Saturday at Retribution. And I'm going to keep on retaining. If anyone's going to make wrestling great again, it's the man speaking to you right now. Canada's Greatest Athlete. Johnny Bonecrusher."
And those last five words were followed by slaps to the buckle of his championship.
"So I scream the '80's, the '90's. So I'm old school. I don't belong here. I should be wrestling in bingo halls and gymnasiums. What else you got, Kurt, because if that's the full extent of your insult repertoire, then let me to remind you that calling someone an '80's or '90's wrestler is about as offensive as calling them a 2000's, 2010's, yadda yadda yadda wrestler. Aren't your icons from earlier eras? The Hogans? The Flairs? Piper, Sting, Stone Cold, The Rock? You insulting them too? You're a disgrace.
And as far as working in smaller places goes... so?! You're telling me you started out in the big time right away? Well, that makes sense, considering your childish attitude and lack of respect for this business. Meanwhile Yours Truly's content wrestling in front of 10, 100, 1000, a million people! Regardless of the locale, regardless of the opponent, The Johnny does what he does best, and that's stretch out jabronis like you until they're slapping mat faster than... well, lets just say you're going to beat your personal best when I lock you down, son!"
JBC raises the belt over his head with one hand, pointing at it with his other.
"You want this, Kurt? Hmm? You want this bad? How bad, Kurt, how bad? Because as badly as you want this, I need it that much more! This is proof that I am Canada's Greatest Athlete, and at least until Saturday night, you're just a greedy coward. During... well, still a greedy coward, but afterwards... oh... I guess you're just going to go down in the history books as a greedy coward, ain'tcha? But Johnny Bonecrusher is going down Saturday night as a two-time defender of the Global Championship. He's going to get his redemption."
He slowly lowers the strap back onto his shoulder, patting it like it were a pet. Maybe a rat or a lizard of some sort that would rest on your shoulder. Not a dog or a cat, they're too big. And a rabbit is simply out of the question and you're silly for ever suggesting it. And no, I'm not just using this tangent to fill a damn thing, thank you oh so very much there, guys and dolls.
"Oh, but something you said a while back did pique my interest. You said you were going to enter the EWC Hall of Fame this year! Hey, congrats, buddy! You've definitely earned it. You've given your blood, sweat and tears for the company, and now it's time for you to get recognized for it. Kudos, m'man, kudos."
There is a pause in his speech as he seems to be thinking about something.
"So why, then, am I getting this version of Kurt Newman?! The Pearl Harbor-ing, disrespectful, dishonest piece of shit whose return to the squared circle was marred by the fact he did so in the most despicable way possible? Why didn't I get Legend Kurt Newman? This is bullshit. Well, rest assured, I'll make that version of you come out."
And with that, The Johnimant Species grips his Global Championship tight, yanks it off his shoulder, and storms off.
New Japan presents: Retribution.
"Yeah, retribution for The Johnny, execution for Kurt Newman!"
Yes, our previous scene was indeed an amazing CGI-animated advertisement for this Saturday night's Retribution super-show. But the voice heard right afterwards could never be replicated.
Somewhere, somewhere, where one could only imagine (and most certainly guess correctly), stands an intense Johnny Bonecrusher standing in front of a black curtain with the NJFC logo seen directly above it. He clasps his hands and breathes heavily. He is ready. He is willing. He is able! Oh, and he is speaking!
"Hellooo, Newman."
Never before has that statement been uttered with anything but disdain, but now JBC's gone ahead and topped it off with some real-ass negative sentiment.
"If Yours Truly didn't know any better, he'd think you were pulling a fast one on me! Me, the troll in all of this? Moi?! Well, Kurt, that makes you one of several things: either a pathological liar, a deluded sociopath, or just plain ol' fashioned dumb. You cheap-shot me, but no, I'm the troll, yeah, okay, yeah. Well folks, I'm not gonna make things easier for you and everybody else when I knock Kurt into a permanent stupor, but hey, them's the breaks."
Johnny then looks around, suddenly starting to look confused. He looks down at himself, then looks up to the sky, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, look what I'm missing here! One sec, folks."
He then leaves camera shot, returning moments later with the Global Championship. He breathes on it and shines it with his forearm, looking upon it with pride.
"The Global Championship. My... Global Championship, Kurt. All your insults, all your allegations, all your slanderous regurgitation, none of that can take away from me being the champion here! Look, I didn't have to come to the NJFC again. I didn't have to participate in that battle royal. But I did, and I did. And I won. And I retained. And I'm going to retain again this Saturday at Retribution. And I'm going to keep on retaining. If anyone's going to make wrestling great again, it's the man speaking to you right now. Canada's Greatest Athlete. Johnny Bonecrusher."
And those last five words were followed by slaps to the buckle of his championship.
"So I scream the '80's, the '90's. So I'm old school. I don't belong here. I should be wrestling in bingo halls and gymnasiums. What else you got, Kurt, because if that's the full extent of your insult repertoire, then let me to remind you that calling someone an '80's or '90's wrestler is about as offensive as calling them a 2000's, 2010's, yadda yadda yadda wrestler. Aren't your icons from earlier eras? The Hogans? The Flairs? Piper, Sting, Stone Cold, The Rock? You insulting them too? You're a disgrace.
And as far as working in smaller places goes... so?! You're telling me you started out in the big time right away? Well, that makes sense, considering your childish attitude and lack of respect for this business. Meanwhile Yours Truly's content wrestling in front of 10, 100, 1000, a million people! Regardless of the locale, regardless of the opponent, The Johnny does what he does best, and that's stretch out jabronis like you until they're slapping mat faster than... well, lets just say you're going to beat your personal best when I lock you down, son!"
JBC raises the belt over his head with one hand, pointing at it with his other.
"You want this, Kurt? Hmm? You want this bad? How bad, Kurt, how bad? Because as badly as you want this, I need it that much more! This is proof that I am Canada's Greatest Athlete, and at least until Saturday night, you're just a greedy coward. During... well, still a greedy coward, but afterwards... oh... I guess you're just going to go down in the history books as a greedy coward, ain'tcha? But Johnny Bonecrusher is going down Saturday night as a two-time defender of the Global Championship. He's going to get his redemption."
He slowly lowers the strap back onto his shoulder, patting it like it were a pet. Maybe a rat or a lizard of some sort that would rest on your shoulder. Not a dog or a cat, they're too big. And a rabbit is simply out of the question and you're silly for ever suggesting it. And no, I'm not just using this tangent to fill a damn thing, thank you oh so very much there, guys and dolls.
"Oh, but something you said a while back did pique my interest. You said you were going to enter the EWC Hall of Fame this year! Hey, congrats, buddy! You've definitely earned it. You've given your blood, sweat and tears for the company, and now it's time for you to get recognized for it. Kudos, m'man, kudos."
There is a pause in his speech as he seems to be thinking about something.
"So why, then, am I getting this version of Kurt Newman?! The Pearl Harbor-ing, disrespectful, dishonest piece of shit whose return to the squared circle was marred by the fact he did so in the most despicable way possible? Why didn't I get Legend Kurt Newman? This is bullshit. Well, rest assured, I'll make that version of you come out."
And with that, The Johnimant Species grips his Global Championship tight, yanks it off his shoulder, and storms off.
