The Crue World Order-- In The Beginning. May 24, 2014 15:57:40 GMT -5
Post by raYne on May 24, 2014 15:57:40 GMT -5
...snow sliced through the screen.
Before a video slowly came into view.
As the video came to a close, a single still image was left emblazoned in the eyes of those watching--
As the image rested upon the screen for a handful of seconds, music slowly began to seep through the speakers--
In the beginning
Good always overpowered the evils
Of all man's sins...
But in time,
The nations grew weak
And our cities fell to slums
While evil stood strong.
In the dusts of HELL
Lurked the blackest of hates
For he who you fear awaits you...
Now? Many, MANY lifetimes later
Lay destroyed, beaten, beaten down,
Only the corpses of Rebels
Ashes of dreams
And blood stained streets.
It has been written that
"Those who have the youth
Have the future"
So come now, children of the beast
And Shout at the Devil.
. . .
"So it was written.
So it shall come to pass."
The camera slowly emerged upon a scene... a dark, dingy alley-way. Somewhere in a city corrupted by greed, money, power, and jealousy.
He stood there, resting beside a dumpster, legs crossed, as he gazed at the brick wall before him. Shadow encompassed his appearance.
But his voice could be heard, clear as crystal.
"They doubt us. And by 'they', I mean the straight-laced. The suit-and-tie wearing 'normals'. Those that look down upon us...
"...and by 'us'?"
The man chuckled lightly to himself, before gazing up at the night sky above...
"...I mean those that don't quite 'fit in'. In a world of bodybuilders, Hollywood-wannabes, supermodels and carbon copied plastic mannequins?"
He then looked toward the camera. Eyes veiled in darkness. But a gleaming light could almost be seen.
"...We are the exception to the rule."
"Ya see, we don't care about money. We don't care about fame, fortune, or even gold around our waists. We care about this BUSINESS. The business that gave us solace in our darkened youths. The business that gave us hope. When we do something for this industry, for a company, for a WRESTLER? We do it for them. Not us. When we say something, we MEAN IT. And while the rest of these so-called 'stars' would CLEARLY sell their own mothers down the river if it meant one more precious metal and leather trinket to their collection?
"...I wouldn't sell my soul for all the money in Fort Knox. I and the rest of my FAMILY, we aren't in this for the fame, the fortune, the power or the glory. And unlike every other man and woman in this COMPANY? We're not even in this game for the gold. No..."
He then turned his gaze toward the brick wall before him.
"My court is a roundtable of men and women who don't serve me. They serve this industry. You can think of us as you will, but know this. What we do? We do for YOUR own good. We fight so that this business may persevere. We grew UP...on this business. We didn't have a THING handed to us, we grew up on streets just like these. We fought every day of our lives, and when we got home from school? We had to find a solace. We found wrestling, we found a world we could escape into and out of the hell we called reality."
The figure paused for a moment, before turning his sight back towards the stars.
"...doubt us. Go on. Doubt us, overlook us, look DOWN on us. Spit on us, kick us aside, USE US. Tell us to play by YOUR rules, YOUR list of demands. Try to conform us. Try to confine us to your little box. Try to break us down and fit us into YOUR mold. Try to assimilate us, and when we refuse? Cast us aside like garbage.
"TRY...and hold us down."
He then slowly began to stand to his feet. As he did, he spoke.
"For if you do?
Beat us down,
Knock us to the ground?
And we will rise.
"BEG for us to pack our bags and go home.
We. WILL. Rise.
Stack the odds against us,
Chew us up, spit us out,
Leave us for DEAD?"
The man stepped out from the shadow. He stood tall, and we were left with the image of a face.
His eyes stared through a veil of darkness, directly into the camera...
"My NAME...is Axl VanHalen. And the following announcement has been paid for, by The Crue World Order."
As these words leave his lips, static once again slices through the screen. A video then comes into view --
"Call me a traitor.
I'm just collecting your victims.
They're getting stronger...
"I hear them calling."
Mark the date.
Don't be late.