'You're Walking on a Razor's Edge, Sandman' | Extreme |

[Emmett Murdock]

DefiningPureGold                                   Action                                     Quote to reply                                     Edit                                     Delete                                     Move                                     Lock                                     Stick                                     Ban IP                                     Ban email                                     Ban user                              Share to:       PM Subscribe Thread Rank：Rookie Score：10 Posts：7 From：USA  Register：03-03-2009 12:55 AM IP：69.231.114.164 Date Posted：01-12-2010 10:10 PMCopy HTML out of character: sorry for the time, I've had a weekend at Vegas and it's been hectic lately. But here's my simple work. The Prime Cut: Emmett Kirk Murdock Junior. A boy from the bayou of Louisiana and former enforcer of the red carpet celebrities. He ate his broccoli when his Dad served it in the table and as a kid, he was christened as a hypothetical champion boxer. Murdock Jr. is bestowed with buoyancy and savageness to tame the wild. A Tarzan in the City. It's those two key elements that Murdock Jr. utilized to build his way to the top of his past indies and training facility grounds to become a childhood wrestling fan's dream ― Heavyweight Champion. Murdock Jr. has stepped out from the shady scene to emerge into the SEF and now he will experience if his long way from home was more than just steps up the ladder, or a regression if the Sandman's Singapore cane puts him on a blackout. ...Which Murdock Jr. is highly in opposition to, but between heaven and hell anything is doable. That includes the Sandman being sliced by the Straight End. Especially after Sandman screwed him out of his time to debut on the previous event. ――――――――――― Booneville, Mississippi. It's in the R&R Sportsplex and our dear Emmett is in his locker room fastening the vague laces of his leather boots. He sits in his bench alone in a custom-ripped black tee with his emblem in the center whilst wearing his black trunks and right armed elbow pad. The man was au courant with his match and was prepared for a preemptive strike to plunge the Sandman's momentum down the waters. Shifting his head toward the door, he perceived a single footstep on the edge and subsequently a squad of cameraman walking in gradually. Upon the flash of the lenses on his direction, Murdock hoisted his head upward to confront the camera with feet of distance and commence his promo. The Straightener: "This is the SEF. Not that known as WWE or TNA, but it has definitely been around for quite some time. It reaches a span of years not months or petite days and hours like transitional businesses that don't flourish. With that echelon of time credibility, one like "The Straightener" Emmett Murdock would be content with getting a contract deal with the company. But yes, I am sure most are encumbered with knowing who I am at the moment given that both Emmett and Murdock in unison don't rouse up an idea on anyone, a clue or a hint maybe? And that is perfectly fine because my first impression within the SEF will be more than just a concrete statement I could chalk up with words and writing implements. It will be the primal thesis of what the SEF should be and could be with my face in its future. That means a prevailing and unconquerable monument of undying greatness. That is something our dear friend the Sandlot boy will learn through our hardcore brawl." Murdock chuckled. The Straightener: "So as I made my way to introduce myself the other day, the Sandman had the audacity to step in the ring and introduce me to something I grew up watching. A stick and a leg sweep that even a toddler can learn before walking. But really Sandman, if you wanted to go ahead and pull this Benedict Arnold card on me, you shouldn't have bothered. You only pushed my sights toward your location, and  you tempted me to not only accept this Hardcore match but come to return the favor you did the last time we were in the ring at the same time. I am a believer of Karma, buddy and trust me when I tell you that your beer cans and swinging canes won't be of use come Extreme. Your drunk state of mind wears out in time, it's trivial, and when it does you will realize that you're nothing without it. It's something that happens to all addictive drinkers like you that are washed up, saggy and old with very few brain cells left. What you're looking at, is a new Genesis in professional wrestler. A Camelot in this generation, while you are supposed to be some crazy old man. A man who couldn't cut it after ECW and just the opposite of what I am. If I am success, then you are failure." Emmett stood up from his bench and took a few steps closer to the camera. The Straightener: "Sandman this isn't the eighties or the nineties, it explains why you aren't preordained to any more manifestations of being a worthy champion. You're farcical, and you rejoice this entire E-C-W talk like if it really was the best thing to happen. Newsflash, ECW is dead. The ECW you hold in high regard in what you are is nothing but a cesspool of rookies from FCW that want to be major in the WWE. The entire Sandman persona and character is what Doink the Clown was to the WWE back in the day. A clown. A jester and a goof except you preferred to drink and smoke while carrying your weapon and Doink stuck with midgets. You aren't a role model or a paradigm to anyone ― you endorse maladroitness. You regress instead of progress. You're only emitting the tough guy attitude because of what you have lived in your ECW tenure but I am not in trepidation because, you know? 'Extreme' could come in more than one way. Obviously yours is lucid with your druggy characteristics, blondie. You're predictable. But mines..." He gripped the head of the camera and heaved it up to his face. The Straightener: "I don't play games or go for a mere slide in the park. I am an alternative epitome to Extreme. I don't incline to weapons and drunk bravado like you do to put someone down. I take things to the limit and if there is a roofing in that limit that suppresses my abilities, I will break right through it. My sense of extreme is in being great and intense, and I could be severe when I'm provoked. I can knock anyone out with one hand and I could do it better than you do with your Singapore cane. I don't rely on weapons to get the job done but if you thought what happened last week was going to be left off the hook, then you're erroneous. I don't plan to be the punching bag this week and I don't intend to fall behind in this hardcore landscape. The straight fact of today is, you're already walking on the razor's edge. It's only until Extreme that you get cut." He paused. The Straightener: "If ECW can die away and the rest of its players retire. Then I think it's time for the Sandman's run and this glorious SEF career to go catch up with it. I know it's cliché, but I do plan to slice your momentum into tiny particles that a human eye wouldn't be able to see unless utilizing a microscope. Everything has a time and a place Sandman, and yours is in Extreme in our Hardcore match. Start getting comfortable with calling me the Sandman Butcher, amigo because you're first on my blacklist. You will be the initiation in my torch to becoming a champion in this company." Murdock spat at the camera and made his way out of the locker room with a glare on his face. The cameras had cut the scene from that point on. There was no telling where Murdock was going next, but he was fixated with severing the Sandman's return hype in their hardcore match. ――――――――――-----------------------------------