Please Login or Register to get full access to the forums.

Lost Password?
Current time: 03-28-2024, 10:14 PM (time should display as Pacific time zone; please contact Admin if it appears to be wrong)                                                                


X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Relentless Day 3 (August 24th) PPV RP Archive
Neonero in: Do you believe in fairies?
Author Message
Neonero
Guest



XWF FanBase:
(.Awaiting user update)


#1
08-17-2014, 08:08 AM

[Image: act1copy.png]

Fairies everywhere

Fairies.
.eod seiriaF




[Image: Cottingley_Fairies_1_zpsafb72e5e.jpg]
Did dieded.

In 1917, two young girls took photos of fairies. Sixteen year old Elsie Wright had drawn fairies all her life, and along with her young friend Francis, the pair harmlessly created cut-out fairies, and took photos together with them for a lark.

Innocent enough, right?

What followed was so relevant to the XWF that I can do nought but elucidate for you, dear audience.

But first, let's turn the lights on. This Mark Flynn approach is so 2012.



A video clip~~~~~kkkkkk~~

Quote:Austin puts Nero in a momentary headlock and then sets him up for what looks like a DDT....Blocked...Countered...Knee to Austin's midsection....Facebuster onto the stage. Austin's face smashed into the cold hard steel of the entry stage. Nero picks up Austin...he looks out at the crowd...







CRASH!!!








CRACK!!!








THUD!!!


Neonero just ended this match with a Gorilla Press Slam that sent John Austin flying through the air and through 5 separate tables. The ref is now signaling for the bell.

As the video clip dissipates, we cross fade into a live shot; Neonero is leaning against an electrical panel, rather like a dashboard on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. Small LEDs flicker away, and behind him an array of monitors are animate, currently showing a mix of either XWF highlights or live shots of the crew setting up the staging and ring.

Over Nero's shoulder a long-shot replay of the small flood caused during Peter Gilmour's last entrance is playing silently; a small puddle spreads out exponentially through the crowd, and the ring crew desperately wipe down the camera lenses, which are being splattered all over, whilst the male virgins leap to the floor lapping up a taste of things to come. It's a very odd sight for the children in attendance, who admire the ceiling lights in a desperate attempt to be anywhere but there. It's a challenge when mummy's leaking and there are waves lapping your knees.

Back to Nero; he's masked, which takes us by no surprise. He sports a wide smile, though his eyes appear to betray a different sensation. Raising his hands to chest height, Nero grabs a large iPad. It's the newest model, whatever name or number that is. Anyway it looks like a dinner tray with a screen. It immediately strikes us as odd that Nero, such an outspoken anti-Apple fellow as he is, holds an iPad. However this realisation shortly vanishes from our synapses as Nero strikes a Sambo-style knee to the center of the screen, cracking it clear in half, though the pad itself does not split.


Oh, come on. You didn't really think I was using that thing for any reason other than vandalism? You disappoint me, viewer.

Nero's smile turns to a snarl, and consequently his eyes light up like a child opening presents on Christmas morning. The dichotomy his face presents is becoming rather unnerving, and unsettling at the very least. Rather like the face of a clown; people are scared of them because no matter what, a smile is always painted upon them. They cannot be read with the lizard brain. They require a step up in comprehension to comprehend. Well, if that last sentence wasn't stating the obvious, I don't know what would be.

Of course, to suggest Nero is exuding this aura purely to stimulate higher mental acuity is probably spurious.


These pieces of junk -

Nero picks up another, intact, iPad from out of shot.

Are only worthwhile as objects of destruction. Allow me to demonstrate.

In a flash, Nero begins to fuck up the entire production truck, save for one monitor, which he deliberately leaves intact. Slicing iPad shots shatter monitors while crushing blows send sparks flying. Shit tablets and advanced production technology collide in an orgy of devastation. There are buttons and knobs flying everywhere - there haven't been this many flying knobs since RaYne graced the XWF.


Noone writes to the Colonel!

Nero randomly shouts out a phrase which seems completely irrelevant, then gets carried away with himself and starts dual wielding two iPads at once! He just doesn't give a fuck, he's destroying XWF property and Apple shite at the same time; experiencing a state of bliss, his own little temporary Shambala.

Finally tiring of the carnage, he returns his attention to the camera.


Viewers, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. You see, I am a bit of an attention whore.

The smirk returns, and the eyes match. Curious.

For example, the occasion where I made Mark Flynn tap out. As far as I am aware, I remain the only person to have ever had that honour. Of course, he will leave that part out of history and mention only the first time we met, where he pinned me...it's natural.

Nero shrugs.

No slight on the cunt for that. It's understandable. Let's look at another example; breaking Mr Satellite/Supernova/Azrael/Homo Sapien/other cute name in half across my knee. Then hearing the numbers one, two, and as a crescendo, three. I like these moments. I have always espoused, however, that I am not interested in wins or losses. There are two common themes in my examples, which I am sure most viewers cannot see through the glint of gold that tarnished the occasions.

Nero lets out a sigh, his chest falling slowly.

No, the commonality is that both were memorable, highlight-reel moments. I like that. There is a reason Neonero was persistently booked in the main event, do you know why that is, dear viewer?

We anticipate some cute line about always delivering, like UPS.

I bet you're thinking of cute UPS lines, right?

Fuck, bang to rights.

The reason is simply that I never disappoint. The Nero stamp on a match implies that it will be worth watching. Something special will happen. There will be flashbulbs.

Nero swipes his hand across his throat, in a ritualistic throat cutting motion.

Actually, that's wrong again. The truth is that I just described MY reasons for being there. The truth, however, is much blander, and is also kind of depressing. Yes, viewer, I am ratings to this company. But only in as much as I am a means to an end. I can recount not one show I main evented...that ended with my match. Nero on the marquee does not mean Nero in the main event. The main event is actually 'whatever talking the GM's are doing'. The nepotism is strong with the XWF.

The mystical main event spot. Do you believe in fairies?


Nero points to the remaining intact screen now, and via some spine tingly amazing technology, we cross fade into another replay.


Quote:THE PROFESSIONAL: "Frodo Smackins sends his regards. Also, don't be surprised if there's a baton up your ass when you wake up."


NEONERO: "Wait, what? "


The Professional answers his question by pulling the trigger and sending 50,000 volts coursing through his body. After a good minute, The Professional yanks the taser barbs out of Nero's unconscious form. Grabbing his baton off the ground, Sullivan turns to the cameraman.


THE PROFESSIONAL: "You're not gonna want to be around for this."


He says as he pulls down Nero's pants.

We open back up to Nero, arms folded, puffing air left and right in his cheeks thoughtfully

Here marks the spot where Neonero lost his smile. Right? This is the line I keep hearing in my XWF absense. But let me ask quickly, do you believe in fairies?

Nero chuckles, any hint of disdain clearly washed away with one inane-or-not line.

Hiring a double and implying that I was raped was an interesting touch; more so a telling indictment of the Madness hierarchy. This was a line which even Heyman never tried to traverse.

Nero walks towards the lens a little, his face in profile almost consuming the whole shot.

Paul Heyman is a spineless slug who invested months of his life trying to knock me off his show. He spent as much energy trying to denigrate the name Neonero as he did promoting Madness.

Nero ritualistically places a kiss on the camera lens, then retreats backwards, leaning against the debris, resting his limbs awkwardly over jagged metal parts, not one fuck being given.

Oh, Ozymandias. The man so original he named himself after a King in a poem. A King who imagined the world, and built wonders, only for the sands of time to consume them, leaving nought but a statue staring into the desert, a hollow reminder to new eyes that something once was, maybe, but we aren't sure exactly what. The poem is about the ruin of human ambition, yet from it you take a name and assume power.


[Image: 01g.png]
Nero's metaphor. Hashtag novampiresson


Nero sniffs.


This illogical dichotomy probably sums you up, but let me go a step further.

Nero clicks his fingers.

Paul Heyman is a mallet, you're a poisoned chalice. What do I mean by this. Well, if the metaphor isn't simple enough for you, then allow me to adumbrate. Paul Heyman deals with his trash in public, and lets the world know. As far as dealing with me, Ozymandias is the antithesis of this; Ozzy realised that he did not like Neonero, and did not want him upon Madness. You may debate whether Heyman has bigger balls or Ozymandias has the bigger brain; it is not of relevance. But what Ozymandias attempted was far beneath anything I'd expect from Heyman.

Nero nods his head sideways, motioning at the monitor and suggesting that we recollect the scene we just saw.

Ozymandias took the weakest name on the card; the biggest moron, for whom stupidity and attention seeking are modus operandi, and made a willing patsy. Frodo – give me a break. You hired some goon to imply they were hired by a goon and subsequently imply rape against a body with a mask not even vaguely similar to mine. Look a little closer at the footage;

Quote:"Frodo Smackins sends his regards. Also, don't be surprised if there's a baton up your ass when you wake up."

(The shot pans back to catch a rather forced open mouthed reaction from a man who looks suspiciously unlike Neonero. In fact, the closer we look, the less Asian and more Afro-American the man seems, under the poorly recreated mask. Cheap rhinestone jewels reflect little beams of light at the camera, sparkles almost distracting us from the bad acting. Hmm, surely this isn't John Black being denigrated by management again? We decide not, though if it is, we wont be having that shit.)


NEONERO: "Wait, what? "

(We marvel at how poor the voice acting is. Two words; TWO! And both sound like they are being passed by Barry White in a bathroom stall. Nothing at all like Neonero's lovely warm voice. )



The Professional answers his question by pulling the trigger and sending 50,000 volts coursing through his body. After a good minute, The Professional yanks the taser barbs out of Nero's unconscious form.

(we marvel at how good that minute was. A whole minute of a black man being tased and no bad acting. Seems legit.)

Grabbing his baton off the ground, Sullivan turns to the cameraman.

(cameraman B that is; A and C stand awkwardly in shot, towering over the scene and fucking ruining the lighting, the amateurs)


THE PROFESSIONAL: "You're not gonna want to be around for this."


He says as he pulls down Nero's pants.

(Probably not, we agree. This kind of poor acting and bad lighting would definitely have benefited from hiring the guys who produce Cain's promos. Besides which, Nero wears jeans not pants)

Really slap-dash isn't it? Poor show really. But it wasn't so much the execution as the aftermath; create the myth, let it breathe, then let my absence stoke the kindling pyre on which my effigy would burn.

Wow that was some word salad, where's the mayo? Oh yeah, it's shot up the arse of your extra guy there. Are these vulgar jokes doing it for you or should I step it up a gear?


Nero bursts into laughter, and just wonders out of the shot randomly. The camera shakes about a bit and we can just about hear the disgruntled reaction of the cameraman, who was presumably expecting a simple one shot promo. After some more rattling around, the camera rises into the air, and we exit the production truck. As the camera settles into the bright Phoenix sunlight, we find ourselves outside the UoP stadium. We wonder why the production truck was here so early in the week, but whatever. Yeah, whatever. Stop analysing and deal with it. At least you're not seeing some alien set or over-emphatic gore fest. Jeez you're demanding.

We look around what is a fairly empty parking lot; a series of thick wires snake out of the truck and inside the building; a few cheap looking cars sit dormant in the distance. Probably the janitor crew we muse to ourselves. A series of pathetic pale green trees lines the parking lot, eking out their arduous existence in the desert sun.


Against one of the trees, Nero is having a slash.

Fortunately the angle is such that we can't verify or deny any of the 'small cock' jokes he as man of Asian descent is blessed with receiving by every other unoriginal fellow to make his acquaint. Some of his piss splashes onto the tarmac and sizzles away leaving cute little trails of steam. We assume it's hot weather then. We realise we are watching a man piss and thinking about the weather – if that isn't dissociation at its best we aren't sure what is.

Oh hello, I didn't see you there.

The Inane One greets us aloofly, as he zips himself up – he's wearing pale jeans by the way, how rude of us not to analyse his clothing priorly. He takes a couple of steps back, and motions towards either the tree or his piss splashes up against it.

See how when liquid meets the sun, it tends to evaporate? The same goes for life. But since I have already started one word-arc that's yet to culminate, let's not get bogged down. Instead, let me ask you a question.

Nero folds his arms, and leans against a different tree leisurely.

Do you miss your urine after you take a piss? If you're anything like the rest of us, having a piss is a great relief. See, I just pissed away any care I may have for Paul Heyman and Ozymandias. My career is not defined by their attempts to denigrate me. I also just generated a Frodo promo for you. Nothing but piss; a relief to finish, not long in the memory. And unfortunately taken as writ that we'll have another one soon, whether we want it or not. I suppose in this environment, you are what you eat – so it's lucky I didn't need a Swagmire, eh?

Ugh. Nero's face turns serious again.

You might be asking yourself why I played a replay of my victory over John Austin to start off this exercise in patience. Well, it was for the same reason that I just destroyed XWF's production truck.

Your Thane of Inane is suddenly dumbstruck.

Why didn't I do that later in the week and make it count...bah...


He snaps back to reality.

This links to the vacuous 'fake ass rape scene'. Watch that match footage again, and you will notice over and over again how badly it is shot. In fact, XWF cameras followed the match so poorly that you'd think we were just a couple of backyard wrestlers doing extra work for Darren Dangerous video packages.

Nero clicks his tongue and winks, pointing as if his hand were a gun towards the camera. Yeah, dunno either.

Make the match look bad, miraculously raise the quality before and after. Quite simple really. But it's akin to sophistry; you're just showing something good badly, instead of arguing something false was bad. A nice 'future strawman' indeed. Damn, I think I just invented Satty's next evolution by accident. Wicker Satty! Can't wait.


Suddenly he feels the urge to piss again; fucking irritable bowel syndrome. He gives his sac a scratch as he continues.

The match was not a lie, but the presentation was. Myself and John Austin damn near went to Hell and back before I threw him through a Pyramid of Hell.

Tables.

Chairs.

Glass.


Nero squeezes his balls randomly, not even looking at the camera.

Did anyone fall for it? Do people forget blood and sweat as fast as piss evaporates on asphalt? Quite possibly! But now, you ask me back. You, the XWF office, bring me back, despite trying so hard to eliminate me just months ago. Not only this, but you place me on the Main Event show.

Neonero chuckles to himself.

Now, granted, as the opener, but if I were to main event a PPV literally, it'd require all the microphones and petty bickering you could muster to stop me tearing down the fucking building when my match was done. Or even during it, to be fair.

Let it be known, Oz, Heyman...let it be known that no amount of camera trickery will be able to hide the impression I leave on John Austin and the University of Phoenix Stadium this Sunday. Did I deliver that cheesy line well enough for the video package?


Inhaling deeply, Nero closes his eyes, smelling the light afternoon breeze. The smell of car fumes is but a distant aftertaste in the otherwise fresh desert air.

He thinks of all the hardy critters that live in the dunes beyond the city, in the Sonoran depths. Creatures adapted to both the intense heat of the day and the intense cold of the night. He considers making a corollary with the Heyman/Ozymandias situation, but feels the moment has passed.


How ironic that you bring me back in a city that names itself after a mythical creature. A bird made of fire that rises from the ashes. Don't be surprised if I leave this stadium in ashes boys. Your production truck was merely an hors d'oeuvre. An appetiser, if you will. Please excuse my 'Dusty moment', but we are in the South after all.

Nero's mind seems to snap full circle at this point, and his cold cyan hued eyes bear into the camera lens, feeling almost bereft of vessel – as if his eyes alone contain his very being.

Minds as great as 'Sir' – and I say Sir with a little sick in my mouth - Arthur Conan Doyle believed in the Cottingley fairies. In fact he went to his death bed convinced they were real, after he consciously hired experts with confirmation bias to tell him he was right. Most the Western world knew about the Cottingley fairies, and even despite the two girls admitting before they died that it had all been a lark, people still believe today. Just as I am sure people believe in Oz-Heymandian mythology to this day.

But, I have to ask you. Do you believe in fairies?


[Image: cottingley_2.jpg]
Also did dieded.

How cute.


Nero cocks his head sideways as if to simulate the innocent joy seeing a kitten playing with a ball of string. Or something along those lines. Use your imagination, stop relying on my descriptive skills, do some work for yourself.

He shrugs now doe.


Did you know 'Neon ore' is an anagram of Neonero? Fascinating. Anyway, alas, the time for talking draws to a close, for now, and therefore it follows quite naturally that I must bid you good day...



I said good day.




-Ты танцуй!
But you dance!
Дурочка Танцуй!
Dance, fool!
И улыбайся!
And smile!
Тебе ведь все это действительно идет
'Cos all of this really does suit you
Не сомневайся!-
Don't even doubt it!


Hate Post Like Post
[-] The following 11 users Like Neonero's post:
(08-20-2014), Alexis Valentine (08-17-2014), Barney Green (08-17-2014), Gator (08-17-2014), Great Buzzard Eli James IV (08-17-2014), John Austin (08-19-2014), Morbid Angel (08-18-2014), Ozymandias (08-17-2014), Peter Fn Gilmour (08-17-2014), Steve "KingSlayer" Davids (08-19-2014), Unknown Soldier (08-19-2014)




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)