LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF.

[Sam]

Hello again everyone, Sorry about the after deadline thing. I had everything written out (ask Ben, i was real nervous and had him check it) and I just completely forgot to post my RP.

Anyway, heres what I did write. Hope you enjoy it, it's good to be back!

‐-------------------------------------------------------------------

As the Intro package for EBWF's Warfare plays on A&E it is interrupted by a backdrop of a wall. A very angry man walks from the right, his hair in no pattern or formation, just where it lands. His large nose and ears in view, he stares into the camera for a while.

???: Ladies and Gentleman, I'm here to introduce myself to you since the EBWF Overlords never fucking bothered. My name...is PAC and I am a truly awful BASTARD.

PAC's nostrils flare up as he speaks.

PAC: You see, I signed my EBWF contract to appear for this King of the Ring tournament weeks ago. I've waited weeks to finally get my hands on whatever "competition" EBWF could come up with.

PAC sighed.

PAC: Then I saw the bracket and I've got to say I'm very disappointed. A man of my calibre and ultimate physique should be given better competition. At the end of the day, how is it fair to Chris Jericho and Michael Dante that they already know there tournament ends before it even bloody begins because they've been drawn against quite a magnificent bastard like myself. However, if you do not know who I am let me explain. I am a truly despicable bastard with a bloody massive chip on my shoulder, I have lost all sense of Gravity. I have grounded myself and lowered myself to the rest of these god awful pricks that you love to cheer. I wont be reducing myself to 20 grand wagers with failing Canadian rappers. I wont be sitting in a dark room with one single bulb talking about the occult, no. I wont be pretending I'm the next big thing in hardcore wrestling whilst being older than ya da'. I am what I am, you will get nothing more and nothing less. I spent too long playing there game and receiving nothing for it then a handshake and a pitiful compliment. I came back a ruthless man but again was disgraced by a dancing wise cracking buffoon who all but blew his chance right up the shitter. I was deemed unsuitable for audiences, left to collect there scraps until they finally deemed me unfit to work. I thought I had to prove myself once again to get back to where I was but that was my first mistake.

PAC took a step back and pointed to his toned and.

PAC: I do not have to prove anything, have you seen this wondrous stone chiseled man made body?! I am nothing like you've ever seen and I am obviously not going to be humble, only to humble others. I see alot of these EBWF roster members and I can see what they all call themselves. Hardcore, Money, LEGION, Artist, Almighty, Rated R, Legend. All these nicknames because there all playing into that character, the difference between them and I is...well.

I'm no character. I really am an arrogant BASTARD. I am THE BASTARD. Whilst I do absolutely love talking about myself, I have two opponents to face tonight. Mentioned previously, Michael Dante and Chris Jericho. Now Michael, how exactly does it feel to be the second rate bitch in a stable that calls it self equal. To no that the only bile they spew is how they all are together are linked as one but to still be the Marty Janetty in a group full of Marty Janettys? So much potential, Zahra Schreiber the queen of the goths, crestfallen by her King, losing everything and gaining nothing. Tommy End, the Prince of Darkness, the rightful heir to the EBWF throne and still played second fiddle to the two pretenders English and Miz...and you Dante. The court jester, the scum and the peasant. No accolades but a title in a division where really only you stand. This Bastard will always fight alone, you still needed a partner to stand atop of a muddy mountain no fucker else wants to climb. You are in this tournament to make up the numbers so Wes Ikeda doesn't have to waste the minutes on his phone deal, begging old stars to come back.

PAC moved his hair out of his eyes.

PAC: The Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla. Chris Jericho. The man that time forgot or more adequately the man who forgot how to tell time. Chris you do know, it is way past your bedtime? You're 48 for gods sake! You're a walking talking advert for pension plans. You're new name may aswell be Y2Geriatric, because let's be honest your best days are way behind you. You're about to hit that period all 90s wrestlers do where your neck stops working and your back gives in, your heart starts skipping a beat every so often. You made your mistakes and now it's coming back on you, the chair shots, the back bumps, the pile drivers. It's all going to start hurting and when your 60 or 70 Chris, unable to move without assistance and only with your mind to talk too, will it have all been worth it? Will you be happy?

PAC Smirked.

PAC: Tonight. The Bastard shows off once and for all, who the best in this business always has been when I send two unbearable pricks back to where they belong.

The footage cut.