Freedom of the Press (EOD2 4)
Oct 12, 2018 14:07:08 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer and 𝓓𝓾𝓴𝓮 𝓚𝓸𝓼𝓵𝓸𝓯𝓯 like this
Post by Deleted on Oct 12, 2018 14:07:08 GMT -5
*The follow was live streamed on the XHF networks social media accounts*
-The shot opens up with a wide cut of a small venue that is packed to the brim with fans and a variety of media personnel. A ticker with such phrases as "End of Days Prelude: Witching Hour" with the date would scroll by as well as a listing of approximate times for company figure heads to make this media appearance. Fans would be sporting various t-shirts and replica belts of their favorite stars, cheering loudly, most with a beer in hand. Reporters would look straight out of a 1930's newsroom, fedoras and suspenders galore. However even with this wide shot a clear subset of these people would stick out like a sore thumb.
The men in black would be on security detail in several locations such as entrances, and around the stage. A few of them even move back and forth between the front and backstage areas, sometimes carrying stuff inside and sometimes out. Even more striking though is a group that is clearly segregated from the rest of the mob. A man standing in the center with some shady security of his own could be identified as the Russian ambassador for the United States.
Besides some ambient music to set the tone, whenever a big wig was due to appear on stage a woman's voice over would introduce them for the stream watchers at home. Usually detailing a few things about their role in the company, but also hyping up the big set piece of the night. Dreadvan was heavily advertised to make an appearance as the featured performer and be available for questions.
Most of the fan sites on the internet have been abuzz with the video releases that have been making their way out to the public in unusual ways, most unsure what to make of all of it. Some even used this appearance as evidence it must all be a publicity stunt. Yet thousands tuned in if only for morbid curiosity. Every now and then the fans in attendance would even try to get a "U-S-A" chant going much to the chagrin of the ambassador. The people who appear on stage would urge them to quiet down and be respectful but the nature of being a fan of wrestling would overpower the assemblies composure and the chants would keep coming.
As the men who never stepped foot inside the ring or even made a notable television appearance kept being marched out the crowd would get rowdier and rowdier. The microphone set up for legitimate questions would be plagued with a mix of a serious and far from such. For instance for every "Have the venues sold out?'" would be a "How much cock does your wife suck?" The normal security guards would have their hands full trying to pull these jokers away as the strength that comes from drunken stupors is noticeably herculean.
Just when the crowd is at the height of their disruptive behavior and nearly tipping over the outside beer truck(as would be detailed in a news report after), the voice over would announce it's time for the demon himself, Dreadvan. The crowd would pop as if they were all inside an arena and Dreadvan's theme song "Beware of Demons" by portrait would play over the speaker system. Several of the men in black would be trying to hear through their earpiece for instructions and yelling back at them before the curtain opens up.
Being carted out like before, this time without straight jacket is Dreadvan. He is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, blue jeans and sandals with socks on. He has a cheesy pair of black pince-nez shades that would be coke bottles on smaller men and a large straw hat. His mouth is gaped open and a trail of drool would be oozing out of his mouth and down his shirt. Small bits of rope attached to large rods on his arms would be dragging along with the procession.
After a few minutes to cross the ten feet of stage, the men pushing the demon along would finally make it to the podium. The abrupt stop through nearly sends Dreadvan straight forward but the metal band around his waist would keep him from fully taking a spill. The men in charge of this odd entrance would scramble to push him back up and tie a piece of rope around his neck now to keep that from happening again. The men in black would not leave his side though as a few of them pick up the wooden rods and the rest secure the stage.
The men in charge of the wooden rods would be struggling to get the beast to wave at the crowd. They have yet to stop cheering for the big men, and again, like true professional wrestling fans, would be totally unaware that anything is out of the ordinary. After the crowd begins to die down and the man manning their meat puppet would tire, the arms would flop down. A voice from over the speaker system that is not Dread's would echo out.-
"YO YO YO! IT'S YA BOY DREADDEEZYYY UP IN THIS HEEZY"
-The crowd would of course cheer anyway, despite most talking shit about his career on the previously mentioned fansites. The men would attempt to cross Dread's arms up but are still too tired to make a full overlap.-
"I know all y'all been missing me fams! But here I's be for all to see! You can't keep a real G down, feel me? A lot of rumor and innuendo been flying outta the sides of cats mouths and that ain't cool homies. As y'all can see I'm straight pimpin still. I am certainly in no way shape or form really locked up in some kind of secret government testing facility that's sole project is making Fat Fighter serums or any wack stuff like that. That's just a prank bro. GOT YA!"
-The voice would let out a high pitched and short laugh similar to the rapper Jadakiss's signature. Dread's right one arm would limply be slapped along the chest of the big man.-
"I wanna take this time to give props and a shout out to my dawg there, the Russian Ambassador for making it out here tonight. Just wanna clear the air with ya blood, the United States values our relationship with our cold neighbor and in no way are we purposely trying to set an example with Mr. Kosloff. Everyone give it up for our main man!"
-The crowd would take the cue to cheer and look at the ambassador would would, with a look of embarrassment from being put on the spot, wave back.-
"I'm telling ya it's all business, only love for any of my fans around the world. But--"
-Dreadvan's body would stir for a second and the men making their human animatron function would get a pale look on their faces. A loud, trumpet like sound would emanate from Dreadvan's body and would even flop him forward and back quickly. Almost immediately a trail of brown liquid would leak down the big man's massive thigh. This is when the men would break out gas masks they had already prepared and fumbled to get them on.-
"Ahem as I was rappin'. It can't be all love I'm afraid. Mr. Kosloff and I have a date with our destinies. A monster versus a demon in what's sure to be a once in a lifetime test of skill! Of course there's nothing really personal at stake, just two guys who have big egos and bigger dreams. Though I think Mr. Kosloff is glad this isn't an eating contest am I right?"
-The voice and the crowd would almost laugh together at that weak joke.-
"All kidding aside I am looking forward to displaying my craft to the masses once more and doing it with such an upstanding guy. Two real gangsters like us rarely get pittied against each other in these days where smaller guys are dominating everywhere. I think we can prove big men still have niche in this game. We can also tear down the house!
Make no mistake though I won't be simply laying down awaiting my fate. Like a true OG I'm going down swinging. Mr. Kosloff is going to have his hands full in more ways then one. I'm definitely the biggest guy he will ever have the chance to stand on the opposite side of the ring, and playas? I'm not finna hide the truth, I will win this."
-Just as the voice finished the sentence suddenly Dreadvan stirs again this time mumbling something. The team waiting in the wings quickly takes out weapons pink in color that looked as if they were just spray painted moments before. A series of darts would penetrate Dreadvan's body and after a moment the lump would settle down.-
"Ah sorry about that my dudes, my squad here had to ol' Dread a bit of pick me up juice since I've been under the weather. Don't sweat it though, I'll be fine by the match. I think now might be a good time for questions."
-A huge line would form at the microphone, some barely able to stand straight at this point, but waiting none the less. A small woman reporter would be the first to throw one out.-
"Are you at all concerned what your little prank is doing to US and Russian relation perceptions? Armed conflicts have been started over less."
-The team would flop Dreadvan's hands around in random ways.-
"Overblown bologna! Ma'am we're here to entertain the professional wrestling fan. I admit often times our art does invoke certain feelings but remember. What purpose would the government have to so brazenly antagonize foreign powers? Do you honestly think a bunch of pimply faced internet warriors can crack the security networks of a secret government facility? Malarky! I also already stated my antics in no way shape or form represent any world government. This is all entertainment, to hype a fight in our good sport. That's all."
-The woman would try to get in a follow up but quickly grabbed by the arm thanks to a nearby man in black and ushered away. The next man would tip his fedora before speaking.-
"Thanks for the opportunity to get a question. I was wondering if you had plans to release more of your prank videos? At this point wouldn't that be irresponsible?"
"I just made it clear anything you have seen or will see is purely for the enjoyment of the consumer. Nothing more nothing less. Will you see more? Maybe. That's part of the ride don't you think? And of course I don't think it's hurting anything. On the contrary I think people are now more eager to see me take down the Natural Born Killer. That's all I am focused on. Beating him soundly and moving on with the tournament."
-The man would also be quickly removed from the mic but be just as quickly replaced by a fan wearing the limited release Dreadvan t-shirt which is nearly four sizes too big for him.-
"Oh man Mr. Van it's an honor dude. Can you like tell me what kind of strategy you're going to use at End of Days?"
-The puppet crew would slap an arm down on the podium.-
"Finally a question about wrestling! I have a lot in store for Mr. Kosloff. In fact I think I am the most prepared I have ever been for a match. I'm sure you all can see I have been bulking up to give me some extra leverage and that is in no way a camera trick! Beyond that Mr. Kosloff is going to have to deal with what everyone else had to at this point. Sheer, unrestricted aggression. A mass so large it can't be stopped once it gets going. I'm going to try to steamroll right over him showing the world size does really matter."
"Thanks Dread! Love you!"
-The man would be grabbed by the back of his collar and moved aside as a man wearing a Duke Kosloff shirt would fill the vacancy.-
"Yo fat ass--"
-The man at the microphone can not contain his laughter.-
"Yo fat ass! Duke's gonna destroy you and beat the fat offa ya, loser!"
-The voice would start to respond to the man but as soon as the name "Duke" echoed through the hall Dreadvan's eye would pop open. His mouth would close and his body would tremble. Dreadvan would then scream out "DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUKKKKKKEEEEEEE" before flinging the men holding the poles back into the curtain. It would tear a section of it down revealing a man in black with a screen and headset.-
"uhuhhh UHHH I am very cranky right now! Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain! I would like to thank you all for com-"
-Dreadvan would be rustling about and shot with more darts but that would only seem to agitate him further. A mass panic would break out among the crowd and the audience would try to flee towards the exits all at once. The bottle-necking it would cause would prevent many at the doors from even leaving. A few men in black would tackle Dreadvan tipping the big man and them into the podium crushing it.
The velocity of such a move would send Dreadvan rolling out into the crowd, actually crushing a few people undertow. This engorged boulder would head directly for the Russian ambassadors squad, who were having trouble securing their exit thanks to the panic. Fortunately for him the momentum would stop but Dreadvan would claw at the floor trying to get to his feet. A few more darts fire off and this time Dreadvan would fall back onto his face only murmuring "duuuuukkke."
The feed would cut out now with a happy little anime graphic that reads "Thanks for tuning in!"-
-The shot opens up with a wide cut of a small venue that is packed to the brim with fans and a variety of media personnel. A ticker with such phrases as "End of Days Prelude: Witching Hour" with the date would scroll by as well as a listing of approximate times for company figure heads to make this media appearance. Fans would be sporting various t-shirts and replica belts of their favorite stars, cheering loudly, most with a beer in hand. Reporters would look straight out of a 1930's newsroom, fedoras and suspenders galore. However even with this wide shot a clear subset of these people would stick out like a sore thumb.
The men in black would be on security detail in several locations such as entrances, and around the stage. A few of them even move back and forth between the front and backstage areas, sometimes carrying stuff inside and sometimes out. Even more striking though is a group that is clearly segregated from the rest of the mob. A man standing in the center with some shady security of his own could be identified as the Russian ambassador for the United States.
Besides some ambient music to set the tone, whenever a big wig was due to appear on stage a woman's voice over would introduce them for the stream watchers at home. Usually detailing a few things about their role in the company, but also hyping up the big set piece of the night. Dreadvan was heavily advertised to make an appearance as the featured performer and be available for questions.
Most of the fan sites on the internet have been abuzz with the video releases that have been making their way out to the public in unusual ways, most unsure what to make of all of it. Some even used this appearance as evidence it must all be a publicity stunt. Yet thousands tuned in if only for morbid curiosity. Every now and then the fans in attendance would even try to get a "U-S-A" chant going much to the chagrin of the ambassador. The people who appear on stage would urge them to quiet down and be respectful but the nature of being a fan of wrestling would overpower the assemblies composure and the chants would keep coming.
As the men who never stepped foot inside the ring or even made a notable television appearance kept being marched out the crowd would get rowdier and rowdier. The microphone set up for legitimate questions would be plagued with a mix of a serious and far from such. For instance for every "Have the venues sold out?'" would be a "How much cock does your wife suck?" The normal security guards would have their hands full trying to pull these jokers away as the strength that comes from drunken stupors is noticeably herculean.
Just when the crowd is at the height of their disruptive behavior and nearly tipping over the outside beer truck(as would be detailed in a news report after), the voice over would announce it's time for the demon himself, Dreadvan. The crowd would pop as if they were all inside an arena and Dreadvan's theme song "Beware of Demons" by portrait would play over the speaker system. Several of the men in black would be trying to hear through their earpiece for instructions and yelling back at them before the curtain opens up.
Being carted out like before, this time without straight jacket is Dreadvan. He is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, blue jeans and sandals with socks on. He has a cheesy pair of black pince-nez shades that would be coke bottles on smaller men and a large straw hat. His mouth is gaped open and a trail of drool would be oozing out of his mouth and down his shirt. Small bits of rope attached to large rods on his arms would be dragging along with the procession.
After a few minutes to cross the ten feet of stage, the men pushing the demon along would finally make it to the podium. The abrupt stop through nearly sends Dreadvan straight forward but the metal band around his waist would keep him from fully taking a spill. The men in charge of this odd entrance would scramble to push him back up and tie a piece of rope around his neck now to keep that from happening again. The men in black would not leave his side though as a few of them pick up the wooden rods and the rest secure the stage.
The men in charge of the wooden rods would be struggling to get the beast to wave at the crowd. They have yet to stop cheering for the big men, and again, like true professional wrestling fans, would be totally unaware that anything is out of the ordinary. After the crowd begins to die down and the man manning their meat puppet would tire, the arms would flop down. A voice from over the speaker system that is not Dread's would echo out.-
"YO YO YO! IT'S YA BOY DREADDEEZYYY UP IN THIS HEEZY"
-The crowd would of course cheer anyway, despite most talking shit about his career on the previously mentioned fansites. The men would attempt to cross Dread's arms up but are still too tired to make a full overlap.-
"I know all y'all been missing me fams! But here I's be for all to see! You can't keep a real G down, feel me? A lot of rumor and innuendo been flying outta the sides of cats mouths and that ain't cool homies. As y'all can see I'm straight pimpin still. I am certainly in no way shape or form really locked up in some kind of secret government testing facility that's sole project is making Fat Fighter serums or any wack stuff like that. That's just a prank bro. GOT YA!"
-The voice would let out a high pitched and short laugh similar to the rapper Jadakiss's signature. Dread's right one arm would limply be slapped along the chest of the big man.-
"I wanna take this time to give props and a shout out to my dawg there, the Russian Ambassador for making it out here tonight. Just wanna clear the air with ya blood, the United States values our relationship with our cold neighbor and in no way are we purposely trying to set an example with Mr. Kosloff. Everyone give it up for our main man!"
-The crowd would take the cue to cheer and look at the ambassador would would, with a look of embarrassment from being put on the spot, wave back.-
"I'm telling ya it's all business, only love for any of my fans around the world. But--"
-Dreadvan's body would stir for a second and the men making their human animatron function would get a pale look on their faces. A loud, trumpet like sound would emanate from Dreadvan's body and would even flop him forward and back quickly. Almost immediately a trail of brown liquid would leak down the big man's massive thigh. This is when the men would break out gas masks they had already prepared and fumbled to get them on.-
"Ahem as I was rappin'. It can't be all love I'm afraid. Mr. Kosloff and I have a date with our destinies. A monster versus a demon in what's sure to be a once in a lifetime test of skill! Of course there's nothing really personal at stake, just two guys who have big egos and bigger dreams. Though I think Mr. Kosloff is glad this isn't an eating contest am I right?"
-The voice and the crowd would almost laugh together at that weak joke.-
"All kidding aside I am looking forward to displaying my craft to the masses once more and doing it with such an upstanding guy. Two real gangsters like us rarely get pittied against each other in these days where smaller guys are dominating everywhere. I think we can prove big men still have niche in this game. We can also tear down the house!
Make no mistake though I won't be simply laying down awaiting my fate. Like a true OG I'm going down swinging. Mr. Kosloff is going to have his hands full in more ways then one. I'm definitely the biggest guy he will ever have the chance to stand on the opposite side of the ring, and playas? I'm not finna hide the truth, I will win this."
-Just as the voice finished the sentence suddenly Dreadvan stirs again this time mumbling something. The team waiting in the wings quickly takes out weapons pink in color that looked as if they were just spray painted moments before. A series of darts would penetrate Dreadvan's body and after a moment the lump would settle down.-
"Ah sorry about that my dudes, my squad here had to ol' Dread a bit of pick me up juice since I've been under the weather. Don't sweat it though, I'll be fine by the match. I think now might be a good time for questions."
-A huge line would form at the microphone, some barely able to stand straight at this point, but waiting none the less. A small woman reporter would be the first to throw one out.-
"Are you at all concerned what your little prank is doing to US and Russian relation perceptions? Armed conflicts have been started over less."
-The team would flop Dreadvan's hands around in random ways.-
"Overblown bologna! Ma'am we're here to entertain the professional wrestling fan. I admit often times our art does invoke certain feelings but remember. What purpose would the government have to so brazenly antagonize foreign powers? Do you honestly think a bunch of pimply faced internet warriors can crack the security networks of a secret government facility? Malarky! I also already stated my antics in no way shape or form represent any world government. This is all entertainment, to hype a fight in our good sport. That's all."
-The woman would try to get in a follow up but quickly grabbed by the arm thanks to a nearby man in black and ushered away. The next man would tip his fedora before speaking.-
"Thanks for the opportunity to get a question. I was wondering if you had plans to release more of your prank videos? At this point wouldn't that be irresponsible?"
"I just made it clear anything you have seen or will see is purely for the enjoyment of the consumer. Nothing more nothing less. Will you see more? Maybe. That's part of the ride don't you think? And of course I don't think it's hurting anything. On the contrary I think people are now more eager to see me take down the Natural Born Killer. That's all I am focused on. Beating him soundly and moving on with the tournament."
-The man would also be quickly removed from the mic but be just as quickly replaced by a fan wearing the limited release Dreadvan t-shirt which is nearly four sizes too big for him.-
"Oh man Mr. Van it's an honor dude. Can you like tell me what kind of strategy you're going to use at End of Days?"
-The puppet crew would slap an arm down on the podium.-
"Finally a question about wrestling! I have a lot in store for Mr. Kosloff. In fact I think I am the most prepared I have ever been for a match. I'm sure you all can see I have been bulking up to give me some extra leverage and that is in no way a camera trick! Beyond that Mr. Kosloff is going to have to deal with what everyone else had to at this point. Sheer, unrestricted aggression. A mass so large it can't be stopped once it gets going. I'm going to try to steamroll right over him showing the world size does really matter."
"Thanks Dread! Love you!"
-The man would be grabbed by the back of his collar and moved aside as a man wearing a Duke Kosloff shirt would fill the vacancy.-
"Yo fat ass--"
-The man at the microphone can not contain his laughter.-
"Yo fat ass! Duke's gonna destroy you and beat the fat offa ya, loser!"
-The voice would start to respond to the man but as soon as the name "Duke" echoed through the hall Dreadvan's eye would pop open. His mouth would close and his body would tremble. Dreadvan would then scream out "DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUKKKKKKEEEEEEE" before flinging the men holding the poles back into the curtain. It would tear a section of it down revealing a man in black with a screen and headset.-
"uhuhhh UHHH I am very cranky right now! Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain! I would like to thank you all for com-"
-Dreadvan would be rustling about and shot with more darts but that would only seem to agitate him further. A mass panic would break out among the crowd and the audience would try to flee towards the exits all at once. The bottle-necking it would cause would prevent many at the doors from even leaving. A few men in black would tackle Dreadvan tipping the big man and them into the podium crushing it.
The velocity of such a move would send Dreadvan rolling out into the crowd, actually crushing a few people undertow. This engorged boulder would head directly for the Russian ambassadors squad, who were having trouble securing their exit thanks to the panic. Fortunately for him the momentum would stop but Dreadvan would claw at the floor trying to get to his feet. A few more darts fire off and this time Dreadvan would fall back onto his face only murmuring "duuuuukkke."
The feed would cut out now with a happy little anime graphic that reads "Thanks for tuning in!"-