Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 5, 2009 10:48:30 GMT -5
Bloody Valentine, 26th February 2005 Emotional Ties (TB015) With the show neatly following schedule and increasing in tension the shot transmitted on the Alphatron is switched to the interior of a single room, deeply located in the ACW arena. The familiar setting instantly influences the spectators in attendance to launch into a chorus of boos. The aforementioned room is the regular place of dwelling of Cordelia and Torak, the maleficent couple of ACW. Torak is mightily poised, scrupulously applying black tape, wrapping it around his thick wrists. Out of shot a clinking noise can be heard. The source of the sound is quickly revealed as Cordelia enters the shot, grasping in her hands the Saint Elmos’ Belt. He runs her hands across the chain part of the contraption. Torak turns his attention to first her, then to the item she holds in her hand. The sight of it seems to please him as he stands to attention and requests to hold it. Cordelia happily hands it over to him and he accepts it by taking it from her grip. He holds the chain on opposite ends, seemingly attempting to stretch it, presumably to authenticate the durability of the chain. He then grabs one of the leather belt straps and also tugs on it, proving its toughness. He nods his approval as Cordelia smiles up at him. Torak takes the other leather belt strap in his other hand and holds both up. He swings the chain up over Cordelias’ head and it lands on her lower back. Torak uses the Belt to reel his fiancée toward him. She slaps her hands on his chest to stop her momentum which doesn’t budge Torak before looking up into his eyes with a smile. Cordelia: Tonight is your night big man. Tonight you get what you wanted since the start. Tonight the martyrdom of Torak, the suffering sustained in sake of our principles will pay off will assistance from our friend, Saint Erasmus here.Cordelia slides her hands down her side and grabs the chain. She lifts it up slightly so it is wrapped around her ribs and Torak grunts contently. Cordelia: For the last few weeks or so we have managed to surmount any effort by Latino and Kitsune to steal the show. It should have possibly continued on Monday but that pestiferous Wyvern felt the need to intervene in our business all because he has affection for her.Torak adopts a look of anger, infuriated that his fun was ruined by the aforementioned Wyvern. Cordelia notices his change of mood. Cordelia: Don’t worry my darling, we will take care of him in our own time, but tonight we must stay focused. Latino is our subject tonight. He has the odds against him, going one on one with a behemoth such as yourself with an instrumental of your favour. Now there’s no doubt that that bacchanal changeling has already had a skinful and will be much more resistant and insusceptible to the pain and punishment you will undoubtedly hand out to him. This inevitably means you will have to be on top of your game. You need to be the destructive, intimidating and mendacious beast that I know, and every one on this entire roster knows you can be. I have faith in you to dismantle that weak specimen with ease.Torak quietly chuckles to himself and grasps the torture implement firmly. He reels Cordelia in closer again and she slaps her long thin fingers on his powerful chest. She gazes up into his eyes seductively. Cordelia: In fact, I believe you could beat him so easily that you won’t have to expend too much energy during your match so I have an idea. How about you and I test this belt to make sure it provides the closeness that is required?Torak cranks his neck and nods. He begins to walk backwards, pulling Cordelia with him through the doorway to their private room behind them. The door closes and a high pitched cackle can be heard from behind the closed door before the shot fades.
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 5, 2009 11:31:25 GMT -5
CHAPTER 2 VIDEO STALKER Meltdown, Thursday 5th January 2006 An intrusion of intimacy (VS001) All eyes are directed toward the arena entrance, patiently anticipating whatever is in store for them next. The Alphatron begins to flicker erratically signaling a possible technical fault presumably causing the now panic-stricken backroom staff to locate the source of the error and hopefully rectify it. Fears of technical difficulties are soon put to rest however, as the shot changes and a scene is transmitted. Footage of a moderately busy restaurant is beamed to the packed arena. The footage, not shot with high quality equipment but a home video camera, indicated by the date and time in the lower right corner, is of a couple sat at one of the restaurants’ round mahogany tables supporting two glasses of drinks, a vase with flowers and empty but food-stained plates, obviously it’s contents have recently been consumed. The couple is in the middle of an intimate conversation exhibited by their riant smiles, clasped hands and glaring eyes focused on each others. It doesn’t take an ACW buff to recognize this amorous pair as Latino and Alicia Kitsune spending their precious free time in each others’ company away from the ring, the cameras, the fans and the occasional violence they are subjected to. Their blissful poise suggests they are completely at ease, comfortable and so natural that it’s almost as if they are unaware of the camera recording them at this moment. Somebody walks right in front of shot and stops, obstructing the view of the amatory pair. The person reveals feminine looking hands as she places a cup of dark liquid, possibly coffee down on the surface on which the camera is supported, partially obscuring the view. When she finally moves away from the table a hand appears and pushes the cup out of the way. Now with Latino and AK in full view again they are standing up, ready to leave as they take their expensive looking jackets from the chairs they once occupied and slip their arms into the sleeves eloquently. They disappear out of shot and the unmistakable sound of air sneaking in to an opened door is heard. They re-appear, this time on the other side of the window they were just sitting by, pause and share a passionate kiss as the camera still rolls. Then Latino speaks something to his love before they first look up the street then down it. AK's lips move with a smile before they final decide to walk away, out of shot once more. A few seconds pass of the same shot of a now empty table with its empty chairs next to the imageless window. Suddenly the image jolts and the camera is seemingly moving, slowly approaching the door which Latino and AK used. Once outside to the bustling traffic and rushing pedestrians the shot swings to the left just in time to catch the image of Latino and AK from behind, walking down the sidewalk holding each other around the waist. This image remains for some time until they eventually turn around a corner and disappear from view then all of a sudden . . . black. It remains black for a few more seconds until finally the normal image of inside the ACW arena is displayed.
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 5, 2009 11:34:11 GMT -5
Warfare, Monday 9th January 2006 Social snooping (VS002) The Alphatron flickers and in an instant the shot changes from the interior of the ACW arena to the interior of a local bar from the controversial home video camera. The shot is angled down from behind and above the bar where a couple of customers are propped up against the bar. One of them is standing leaning on his elbow with a cocky stature with his back to the second customer. He is sat on a barstool hunched over a drink; his head angled down and perched in his hands. Out of shot a figure struts over to the bar and passes the man hunched on the stool. He lifts an arm and pats the standing, cocky fellow on the shoulder before stopping and standing next to him. Over the ambient sound of the chattering drinkers his familiar voice can be heard to say “Hey I just got off the phone to AK, I gotta go!”. He moves around to the front of his pal and stretches his hand out to a half-empty bottle previously sitting lonely on the bar. He wraps his large masculine hand around the base of the bottle and raises it up to his thirsty mouth. He wraps his lips around the tip of the bottle and in one swig finishes off the content of the bottle. He somehow looks complete with the bottle in his hand… Of course! It’s Latino! Once again the fans are treated to a scenario of Latino on his well-earned time off enjoying a beer with some friends but it still doesn’t feel right watching it. He plonks his now empty bottle down on the bar, further away than where it was when he picked it up, to signal to the barman he had finished. He turned to his drinking pal and reached out an arm which was quickly received by his friends’ own hand. They shook firmly and patted each other on the shoulder and promised to get a few drinks in again soon. Latino turned away, lifting a parting arm to his buddy as he walked away. His now solitary friend finished off his drink and placed it on the bar. He scanned the rest of the area, searching for a familiar face to socialize with. He suddenly spots somebody out of shot and raises his arm to wave, attempting to attract their attention. The barman arrives in shot and puts a bottle down next to the empty one then removes that from the bar. The man takes it from the bar and takes a swig before proceeding in the direction of his out-of-shot friend. Now the bar has just one occupant; the slouched drink-nursing loner. For a moment the shot is so still it’s almost like a photograph. That belief was soon refuted as the sole customer at the bar turns his head in the direction of where Latino and his pal once were, his face still obscured by the hanging dark hair. He releases his grip on his drink and lowers his arm down below the bar, seemingly fumbling around in his pocket. He soon retrieves an object and lifts it up into sight. It’s a small black box with what looks like buttons on it. He lifts it up and aims it at the camera and makes a point of lifting his thumb up before pressing down on the black box. A tiny red light is visible on the end of the box just before the screen goes black. A few seconds of blackness precede another flicker of the screen and then the return to normality once more.
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 5, 2009 11:34:55 GMT -5
Meltdown, 12th January 2006 Obscure Relations (VS003) At ACW the backroom staff and authority pride themselves on running the events on schedule with minimal-to-zero technical difficulties. Therefore in the unlikely event of an uncontrolled error panic levels are known to increase dramatically and fears of contract termination stalk any workers with a nervous disposition. It is to no surprise then, that when the Alphatron flickers erratically before the regular image of the arena interior is replaced by an unfamiliar scene, the orders are all hands on deck to locate the source of this strange transmission and secure control again. Once again the shot is accompanied by the familiar amateur video lay-out, complete with time and date display in the bottom corner, but these figures are concealed by a blur effect. The scene itself is of a small, slightly old-fashioned suburban home with a plush green garden lazing in-front of it. Just in shot, in the driveway, is a dark blue Chevrolet Impala with its headlights glaring at the house. The house re-captures the attention of any wandering or studying eyes as the front door, white with three small windows and a small golden knocker, opens and a shadow is cast on the door and for a second there is no movement until a figure backs out of the door then stops just a foot or so outside. The person is vaguely familiar and most can assume who exactly it is. He is engaged in conversation with an unseen individual. The person outside reaches in to the hidden person and seems to give them a hug. An arm from inside reaches out and around the person and gives him a friendly rub. The hand is small and frail, possibly belonging to an elderly lady. The person turns away and confirms suspicions of his identity. Unsurprisingly it’s Latino and the video receives some boos as the fans have now realised that this is an invasion of his privacy. He approaches the car and opens the door before turning back to the house and sending a wave in the direction of the open door. The hand reaches out once more and returns the gesture. With this Latino takes a seat and pulls the door shut before putting the key into the ignition. Obviously, one universal function of amateur camcorders is the zoom function. This obviously allows the user to zoom-in to view distant objects with great detail. It also allows the amateur film-maker to zoom-out, widen the shot and generally steady the picture. The operator of this camera utilizes this function and as Latino starts the engine of his car the screen retreats from the car steadily until it halts with a wider view of its surroundings. With this it is possible to see Latinos’ car back out of the drive and turn into the road. A shift of gear is followed by an exaugural honk of the horn. Latino gently squeezes the accelerator and pulls away down the road. The camera is turned toward the road and witnesses the car drive further and further away. For a moment it almost seems as if it is the end of the scene, however, a sound is heard from a local source, it sounds like an engine roaring into life. The camera also starts to vibrate indicating that it had been supported on a dashboard the whole time. The engine roars once more and the sound of a handbrake being released follows…but no movement. Another click and the engine ceases to purr. There seems to be no sign of a problem, there is no spluttering or attempts to restart the engine. Suddenly the camera begins to turn toward the house again and the figure that Latino was speaking to, an elderly lady with an apparent Latino complexion, is out in the front garden picking something up off the grass. She inspects it before returning to the door at which she turns and glances up and down her street, glancing over the location of the camera without seemingly noticing anything unusual. She returns her glance in the direction of where Latino drove away before finally retreating into her house and closing the door. The motionless and now occupied house is the focus of the shot once more for a few more seconds before the unmistakable sound of a car door opening is heard. The camera is jerked away from its position and accompanies its owner on their travels. The door of the car, carefully excluded from view, slams shut and for the next few seconds only the ground, on which the mystery individual walks, is visible. It stops at the threshold of a foot-path. The camera is raised and aimed at the door once exited by Latino. Slowly it approaches…slowly bearing down on the white door that suddenly looks like it would smash to smithereens if anybody were to knock on it too enthusiastically. The door is so close now you’d think that if it were to zoom now the view would penetrate the door itself. It stops…and a shadow is cast right in front of shot. From the right side of shot a hand reaches out and stretches toward the door-handle! The hand unclasps and makes its final approach on the handle… Black. The usual image returns and the crowd are left without breath and on the edge of their seats with the question burning in their minds, who is this sinister character and why is he stalking Latino? As if Latino didn’t have enough on his plate at this time he’d be forgiven for feeling turbulent. The show continues, though now with this in memory, as everything seems to be in control.
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 5, 2009 11:35:58 GMT -5
Warfare, 16th January 2006 Madman Memorabilia (Obscure Relations part II) (VS004) A backstage technical monkey at any wrestling promotion is never an easy job to uphold, what with the constant exigent workload and pressuring production bosses breathing down their necks twenty-four hours a day, demanding perfection to ensure few if any snags. The ACW behind-the-scenes staff is really subjected to scrutiny but due to recent “technical errors” their abilities have been placed into doubt by their superiors. The technical errors in question at this moment has returned to haunt them, inducing panic and concern in the minds of the ACW employees. Throughout the crowd though, there is a different kind of concern. The incidents of the previous chilling vignette fresh in their minds they observe the sequel with dread. The scene opens with the usual amateur camera lay-out, the time and date retaining obscurity, as the scenery approaches and passes the camera by at a steady speed. The sound of a growling engine can be heard indicating that the camera is occupying a moving vehicle. This continues for a short distance before a right-turning slowly nears. With the clicking of the indicator the shot sweeps around to the right and continues into a dead-end street shrouded by large trees hunched over the road looking down on everything that passes. Another right turn follows before it comes to a halt directly in front of a small, decrepit, desolate looking house with the windows bordered up and the sign displaying the house number hanging on desperately to a rusty nail. The house number is 13; appropriate and possibly deliberate for this series of videos. The camera is yanked away from its position and once again joins the side of its owner who reveals their large feet. With the camera pointed down the long, un-cut grass which is littered by discarded items of food, drinks and general rubbish, is visible. As the camera-person takes large strides toward the house the unmistakable sound of a plastic carrier bag, rustling as it moves, is heard. Imaginations run wild in the arena, inadvertently conjuring up the most disgusting and disturbing speculations as to what the bag may contain. Surely not at a wrestling event? They finally reach the door which is pushed open without the need of a key. Obviously the occupant has no concern of whatever possessions they might have. The door slams shut and we continue down a narrow corridor until we reach a doorway on the left. The door itself is fairly old, wooden and with a hole where a door handle should be. Covering the entrance is several strips of yellow tape stretched across the door. A gloved hand reaches out and grabs the highest strip then with one pull downwards tears the tape away from the door. It comes away without resistance and is soon discarded to the floor. The exposed door is opened shortly after and it creaks as it swings open. Immediately it is apparent that there is very little in this room. A dresser sits in the corner with some items strewn on top of it and two small objects atop an otherwise empty table. We continue into the room, it’s scarred and peeling wallpaper almost calling out for help as we are invited in. We approach the table and are introduced to the first of the objects…a long, shiny and very sharp kitchen knife. It has no marks or stains on it, somewhat of a relief for the crowd. As the shot pans we get a glimpse of the second object. Lying on its back is a plastic male doll. The attire is familiar, red and white pants (or are they tights?) and white boots but no upper-body attire. One observation made is the head of the doll is missing. It is quickly brought to our attention that no receipt is required though as the shot gets slightly shaky for a second as the holder begins to move before recovering something, presumably from the floor. The first glance of the object presented is that it is maybe a small black ball. However, as the object is placed down onto the table between the knife and headless doll it is revealed as the removed head. It does not take a highly complex logical process to conclude that the knife played some part in the separation of the two objects. More alarmingly though the head is quickly recognized as a Latino resemblance, obviously the Official ACW Latino doll (Available now in all good toy stores!). The shot moves away from the sadistic stalkers’ playthings and turns its attention to the dresser backed in the corner. There are various objects strewn on the top including; a stack of A4 paper, a remote control for a television, a red rose and a video tape. The gloved hand returns for a cameo by sweeping everything on the dresser onto the floor. The rustling of the bag returns, much louder now as the hand rummages around for its contents. The bag gets dropped to the floor as an item is removed. Brought into shot is a picture frame, gold in color with ridges carved into it. The picture itself is shielded by the large hands of the camera-person as they place it down in the middle of the dresser, twisting and turning it, seeking a perfect angle for it to sit. Once satisfied the hand releases its grip on the frame and recedes away from it, though still hiding the image it contains. The hand finally pulls away out of sight and the picture is revealed. It is a photograph of two people. They smile blithely, embracing each other with love and respect. These two people are of course Latino and his elderly relative, as seen in the last edition of this sickening series of events. The shot remains on the picture for a few moments leaving some questions in the minds of the viewers. Breaking-and-Entering. Theft. Are these the only crimes this psycho committed in that house? Why is someone tormenting Latino? It finally comes to an end as the shot fades to black before normality is resumed once more.
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 5, 2009 11:36:52 GMT -5
Meltdown, 19th January 2006 Into the mind, behind the eyes (VS005) The job of the backstage technical employee has certainly not been alleviated in recent weeks. Returning from a long break and having to adapt to the rigorous workload and the pressures of keeping Prima Dona stars happy with 100% efficiency. The abrupt officious intrusion of the “amateur-cam vignettes” only exacerbates things for the overworked and underpaid workers. The so-called invasion is as abrupt as usual this time as static flickers on the Alphatron and the scene changes. The image on screen plucks an unusual cheer from the crowd, a rare accompaniment to these segments in recent weeks. The image is of Latino, motionless but with an affable smile and glaring eyes. A wrinkle in his cheek and a round gold object that resembles the head of a thumbtack indicates that this image is merely a poster of Mr. Laureano. His eyes continue to stare into the lens, piercing out through the screen panoplied by the customary amateur camera lay-out, and into the eyes of the fascinated on-looker. The eyes would follow you around the room if you could find space to move to in the packed ACW arena. Without warning a silver object hurtles past the screen towards Latino and embeds itself in the right eye of Latino. It’s a kitchen knife, presumably the same one that featured in the last video. It vibrates after impact to suggest that it was thrown rather than stabbed. Good aim? Or is this not the first take? In any case the knife doesn’t spend much time planted into Latinos’ right eye socket as the gloved hand makes another appearance. It surges toward the knife and wraps itself around the thick black handle. It twists the knife forcefully before wrenching it from its position. In its absence it leaves a gaping hole where Latinos eye used to be and behind that, broken wood where the knife had penetrated. Seconds later the knife returns, this time assaulting the left eye with a vicious jab. Another twist and it is removed leaving another gaping hole revealing more broken wood. The hand holds the knife aloft just in front of the camera before releasing its grip, sending the knife plummeting to the ground, hitting with a satisfying thud. The next objective for the hand seems to be to remove the poster from the surface it occupies. It gently removes the thumbtack in the top left corner then removes a second thumbtack in the opposite corner whilst gripping the poster, careful not to tear the poster. The poster is taken out of shot and after a few seconds of fumbling about the camera is set down on a surface nearby. It reveals the back wall of the room which is covered in red scribbles, untranslatable cacography scrawled thickly across the length of the wall. After a few moments of trying to interpret the graffiti the camera is jerked away from its position. It gets pulled and twisted in an uneasy motion that leaves the audience dizzy. It finally stops and the image of Latino returns to screen. He has eyes again, but this time they are closed and are set deeper than the rest of his face. The eyelids are very dark and heavy and certainly don’t suit the rest of the face that surrounds them. Suddenly, with an implacable chill the eye-lids part, revealing tired green eyes. The iris is wide due to the absence of light in the creepy room and the blood vessels are prevalent in the retina. This person has clearly has had very little sleep in recent weeks. Heavy breathing can be heard behind the poster, anxious but allayed. How long before the owner of these eyes get rest? When will they be revealed and this tension ends? Suddenly and without warning the shot changes again with a flicker of static. Once again questions burn on the minds of the fans and they speculate what kind of influence this may have on Latino during this busy time.
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 5, 2009 11:37:21 GMT -5
Warfare, 23rd January 2006 A perilous close-up (vs006) Latino vs Justin Jehst With the night rolling steadily on, Phillip takes his place in the middle of the ring, an immediate indication of another matchup. “Your Time Has Come” hits to signal the arrival of Justin Jehst. The precocious youngster has not had the best of success so far in the ACW, but can take comfort knowing that nothing special is expected in his biggest challenge so far. He makes his way nervously onto the stage, receiving a sympathetic cheer for his efforts in recent weeks. Phillip : The following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Toronto, Canada, weighing in at 213 pounds…Justin Jehst! He raises an arm into the air in acknowledgement to the fans as he continues to the ring. He slides in under the bottom rope and mounts the nearby turnbuckle, raising both arms in the air. Philip: And his opponent, from New York City, weighing in at 240 pounds… Victor “Latino” Laureano! “OOoOOOooooOOooh LATINO!” are two words uttered from the speakers, stimulating the crowd into rapturous cheers. “Lowrider” beats around the arena as Latino appears through the curtain and into the presence of the fans eyes. He moves to the beat, acknowledging the fans in the front row as he makes his way to the ring. He rolls under the bottom rope and jumps up onto the middle rope in the corner to display himself to the fans. He slaps his chest with an open palm before dropping down to the canvas. Justin approaches Latino immediately and stretches out a hand which Latino gladly accepts, shaking it firmly. They back away from each other as the referee calls for the bell. They circle the ring, before turning to each other and prepare to close in… The lights go out and the Alphatron flickers statically which instantly demands the attention of Justin Jehst and, more particularly, Latino. He prepares himself, justifiably feeling slightly paranoid and vulnerable at this moment. All of a sudden an image presents itself on the Alphatron. The image is a pair of eyes, the iris dark green, staring down at the ring. They are motionless and do not blink, indicating that it is just an image and not a live feed. The lights return by the image of the eyes remains on the Alphatron, gazing down on the ring from above the ramp. Latino turns to Justin who shrugs his shoulders in confusement. The referee comes between them and urges them to begin the bout. They turn their attention away from the glaring eyes and focus on each other. They approach each cautiously before locking up at the shoulders. Latino immediately uses his experience to switch to a side headlock, holding Justin firmly under his left arm. Justin backs towards the ropes and attempts to use the momentum to launch Latino across the ring. Latino, however, manages to hold onto Justin and instead whips him across the ring. Latino swoops down and on the return lifts Justin up and over into a back body drop. Latino stands up straight and looks right into the enormous eyes on the screen, glaring down at him. He pauses for a moment which allows Justin the advantage. He sneaks up from behind and hits a belly-to-back suplex, dropping Latino flat on his back. Delighted with his first bit of real serious offence he gets to his feet and pulls Latino up. He wraps his hands around the head of Latino and pulls him down with a snapmare takedown which he follows up with a kick to the spine. Latino pushes himself to his feet by his own accord as Justin lays into him with some shin kicks to the midsection. Latino is obviously still fully focused and isn’t prepared to take any more shots. He quickly reacts to the next attempt to kick by grabbing the ankle of Justin, leaving him hopping on one foot in front of him. Justin makes a last gasp attempt to retain his slender advantage by trying an enziguri but Latino ducks the flying kick, causing Justin to land flat on his face on the canvas with his right leg still in the grasp of Latino. Latino pulls Justin up to a vertical base using the aforementioned leg to rell him in. He allows Justin to turn to face him before pulling him-in and lifting him up for an inverted atomic drop followed by a lariat. Latino wastes no time and pulls Justin to his feet again. He has intentions of putting him to the mat once more though. He locks in a front facelock and sets up for a suplex. He lifts him up and holds him up in the air for a few seconds before dropping him to the canvas, holding on after impact. He twists his hips and pulls Justin to his feet again and delivers one more suplex. Once more he holds on and lifts Justin up for the third and final suplex which he executes perfectly in the middle of the ring. He floats over into a cover which Justin kicks out of after 2. With more work needed to win this one Latino pulls Justin back to his feet and picks him up for a body slam to place him in the middle of the ring again, perpendicular to the ropes. Latino heads to the corner and exits onto the apron before hauling himself up onto the top rope. He steadies himself on the top before looking up…and he pauses. The Alphatron flickers, the eyes almost blinking as Latino glances at them. Latino freezes and continues to stare up at the chilling green eyes. This momentary lapse gives Justin enough time to recover and meet Latino in the corner. He delivers a right hand to the midsection of Latino and wraps in a waistlock. Latino, in his distracted state, does little to react in time to block Justins’ attempt…and Justin manages to hit his signature northern lights suplex, titled the Patronising Plunge, off the top rope. Latino hits the canvas hard and Justin quickly crawls over into a cover. 1... 2... Latino kicks out just after the two count. Justin gets to his feet and puts the boots to Latino. He pulls him up to his feet and locks in a front facelock. He maeuvers Latino towards the ropes and uses them to attempt a tornado DDT…but Latino blocks it halfway through the move and tosses Justin face first onto the canvas. Justin slowly gets up, holding his abdomen from the landing. Latino swoops in and hits a boot to the sore midsection, causing Justin to double over. Latino sets him up between his legs then lifts him up before throwing him down with the Macana’s blade. Latino signals for the finish and makes his way to the corner, the same one as earlier, once again. He pulls himself up and looks up at the eyes. He laughs and shrugs off the glare before coming down with the Frog Splash on Justin. Latino hooks the leg and the referee drops down to his knees. 1… 2… 3! Latino rolls off of Justin and gets to one knee. He returns his eyes to the Alphatron baring those chilling green eyes. He pushes himself to his feet and exits the ring, heading carefully toward the image of the eyes. He makes his way up to the top of the ramp and stops to stare up at the eyes. After a few moments of a “stare-down” the Alphatron flickers again and the eyes disappear. The image of Latino staring up at the top of the ramp replaces it. Latino turns to the ring before holding an arm aloft to celebrate his victory, but he knows he’ll have to tread cautiously from now on. He turns to the Alphatron once more, glancing up as he exits to the back.
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 5, 2009 11:39:59 GMT -5
Ragnarok, 28th January 2006 A Reflected Revelation (vs007) In one instant a mood can change. At this particular moment it switches from enjoyment to dread as the lights dim…not to complete darkness, but dark enough to disrupt the on-goings in the ring. Pupillary reflexes occur in the thousand sets of eyes as pupils dilate in order to adjust to the reduced light. The Alphatron initially turns black to contribute to the darkness before an image presents itself on the screen. It is a white surface, the brightness of which causes the pupils to contract again, making it hard look at the Alphatron directly at first. The footage is once again conveyed from the amateur camera that has featured prevalently in recent weeks. The image begins to move, not that it’s easy to notice due to the fine pain coating of white on the surface. It is not until it reaches a landmark, in terms of the surface, that you realize that it is a door. The “landmark” is a name plate, golden with black letters in a Perpetua Titling font that clearly reads “LATINO”. After a few seconds of focusing on the name, giving anyone who may be a little slow to reading a chance to read the name, the name plate and door start to move away from the camera and swing inwards. The light, from the bright bulb left on inside the room, embraces the camera as it enters into the room. Immediately to the right we can see a bench with Latinos’ casual clothes draped neatly over. Below the bench is a pair of expensive looking shoes, placed tightly together as if they are huddling each other for security. An empty, deflated looking bag slumps lazily in front of the bench. The shot continues onwards and inwards on its self-invited tour of the room. On a table, a few feet from the bench, is a picture of Latino with his partner and lover Alicia Kitsune which rests on-top of a small black television which is at this moment transmitting images from ringside. The look of horror and anger on the face of Latino is prominent. The shot swings to the left and into view comes a tall, polished mirror. The camera approaches it with the view focused downwards. It reaches the front of the mirror and a pair of large boots is revealed. The shot does not linger on them as it begins to pan upwards; next revealing a pair of thick, muscular calf’s covered by expensive looking leather pants. The legs suit the large feet perfectly. The legs widen to gigantic tree-like thighs as we continue the ascension up this mysterious anatomy. Next is the midsection which is broad, a requirement to support the even broader chest. The shot stops at this point and is now very apparent that the stalker is a man. All that is visible now is the broad shoulders and the strands of long hair that drape down over them and the muscular arm that holds the camera in place. The camera itself has a relatively old design, not very expensive and has a piece of tape covering one corner, maybe to hold something in place. It pauses for a moment to allow the tension to build. Are we going to uncover the mystery stalker? The answer is no. The camera swings away from the mirror and focuses on the television sat on the table. On screen is Latino, slightly fatigued from the bout so far, looking up at the Alphatron, almost like looking into the lens of the camera. Suddenly, without warning, the shot tears away from the screen and makes its way hurriedly towards the door. It swings open in-wards and passes us by as the camera man exits the room. He takes a sharp right turn and dashes down the corridor before coming to a corner which he slows down at to adjust his weight to set off in the direction of the next corridor. A backstage worker comes into shot, stopping suddenly and looking in horror at the mysterious figure bearing down on him. He leaps out of harms way and lands on top of a table which until now had been empty. The shot races past him and continues to sprint down the corridor. From a door on the left another backstage worker emerges. Completely oblivious to the approaching figure he stumbles into the path of what is soon the cause of his downfall. The worker gets knocked painfully to the floor while the cameraman continues on course, seemingly unmoved, not even by the furious verbal abuse hurled at him by the now horizontal worker. After a few more feet and another corner turned the opening of the curtain which leads to the entranceway comes into view. At this point the camera plummets to the floor, hitting it with a satisfying crack as pieces of it fly off in different directions. Now out of shot, footsteps can be heard running toward the curtain… {Following this segment, Torak returned to the ACW to attack Latino during the Four on Four Elimination Match, effectively eliminating Latino from the match.}
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 6, 2009 10:26:15 GMT -5
Chapter 3 Losing the Plot Meltdown, 2nd February 2006 A message in blood (LtP001) Familiarity is usually a welcome occurrence. That old cartoon show you used to watch when you were a kid. That old school friend you bump into after all those years. An old character, returning to your favorite television show, after a lengthy absence. At Ragnarok, familiarity made an un-invited and unappreciated appearance. Nevertheless, this show goes on with all previous events tucked away in the back of the mind of the on-looker. Some welcome to resurface, some not so welcomed. “Your Time Has Come” hits the speakers and Justin Jehst makes his way out to polite applause and a few scattered cheers. Being unscheduled tonight he is merely dressed for comfort in baggy pants but no shirt. He obviously likes to feel the breeze on his modest, quite toned torso. He ascends the steps onto the apron and enters the ring between the top and middle rope. Phillip approaches the ring from the outside and hands Justin a mic who accepts it graciously. Justin turns to the crowd and wets his lips, pausing for a moment to soak it in. This is the first time he’s been granted mic time in the ring and so has to make the most of this opportunity. He lifts the mic to his mouth and the crowd respectfully quietens down to hear his thoughts. “Six months ago, if you had said to me that I’d be in the ring with two Champions on two separate occasions in the space of two weeks, I probably would have thought you were patronizing me, merely sparing my feelings only to go behind my back and dismiss my capabilities. But in my first month here I have stepped into the ring with two undisputed champions. Now, regrettably neither match was scheduled for their respective titles, but I did at least experience what it feels like to be in the ring with the cream of the crop in this industry.”The crowd remains silent as Justin pauses to take breath. His mind races with thoughts and his heart beats rapidly in his chest. He swallows hard and continues. “Unfortunately I did not win either match, nor did I manage to create a lot of offense against my opponents. Many people would be disheartened by this, close to giving up their dream of becoming a successful wrestler… But not me!”Some areas of the crowd react to Justin’s’ enthusiasm with light applause, respecting his willingness to learn and better himself by first paying his dues. Some still applaud while he continues. “Then a dream come true. I managed to get myself a match with someone who I consider a legend here in the ACW. Someone who I have admired, respected and followed for as long as I can remember. Being put into that situation I was nervous, sure, but I put all that aside, approached the match like any other and I tried my best.”Justin stops and looks down, almost saddened by what he is about remember. “Again, unfortunately for me, I could not overcome my idol. Not that I am ashamed of that. I am actually proud to have at least gone a few minutes with someone of the calibre of…Latino.”Justin pauses again, knowing his last words are bound to stimulate a reaction. The crowd goes wild just by the mere mention of the name and Justin nods in agreement. He looks around, hoping one day that his own name will draw a similar reaction. He prolongs the pause to allow the noise level to reduce before attempting to continue… “…”Nothing. No sound. Apparently the microphone has suffered at the hands of the dreaded “Technical Difficulty”. A phrase so dreaded in any entertainment media field that a euphemism is often used to ease panic. Temporary loss of audio functions is used in this case. It certainly doesn’t alleviate things. Phillip, always alert, grabs a replacement microphone from ringside and quickly advances towards the ring. The substitution is made and Justin attempts to test the mic. He opens his mouth but the next sound heard is definitely not his voice. Familiarity is not always welcome. Mechanical grinding jolts blurt from the speakers and a widespread groan can be felt throughout the entire arena. “Nobody’s Real” is the track that blares throughout the arena and the only voice heard belongs to Michael Cummings. The imminent arrival doesn’t seem to have a voice. He believes in action rather than speech. Sure enough through the curtain emerges the relentless and malignant figure of Torak. Complete with his new look halfmask, hiding the lower-half of his face allowing his eyes to peer over the brim. He surges to the ring with herculean strides and upon reaching the ring, slides in and immediately attacks Justin. He pounds on the helpless newcomer with stiff right hands before knocking him down with a hard upper-cut. Justin manages to push himself to his feet and rushes at Torak with some right hands of his own…but they have no effect. Once Torak has had his fun he quickly grabs the right arm of the Canadian youngster and twists it painfully. Justin drops to his knees in agony and pleads for mercy. Torak glares down at him and shakes his head in disgust. He tugs Justin up onto his feet and spins him around so that he is facing Justin’s back. He sets the wrenched arm over his head and lifts Justin up. At first it looks like a belly-to-back suplex, but Torak instead spins Justin around in mid-air and drops him down onto his head. A move commonly known as the Blue Thunder Driver. Being spiked on the head can be a dangerous experience. Some wrestling promotions do not allow the use of any head bump moves, a ridiculous concept for promoters of violence really, but those who have experienced the feeling can sympathise. Justin is down and out on the canvas and only the expanding and contracting of his chest indicates that he is still alive. Torak is also almost motionless, though on his feet, staring down at his handiwork. He eventually removes his gaze at the fallen Canadian and transfers his eyes to the crowd who savagely hurl jeers at him. This, as always, does not nark Torak however, it merely drives him. He reaches to his side and places a hand over a black leather holster which, until now, had gone un-noticed by the majority of on-lookers. His index finger undoes a strap then the rest of his fingers creep inside to retrieve the object it contains. He slowly pulls it out, first revealing a black handle followed by a long thin silver blade. It’s an incredibly sharp kitchen kife, presumably the same one that made an appearance in the stalking videos. Suddenly a wave of panic and distress encompasses the audience and the ringside staff plead with Torak to relinquish the weapon, though not stupid enough to enter the ring and jeopardise their own safety. With the knife in hand he inspects it and tightens his grip. He lifts his free hand and uses the knife to slice the palm, diagonally from the Navicular to the Hamate, causing a lot of dark red blood to seep out. Torak drops the knife to his side which draws a sigh of relief from the crowd. He takes two fingers, the index and the middle finger, and dips them into the wound like an artist dipping a brush into a pallet. But Torak has no masterpiece in mind, nor does he intend to paint on the canvas. He drops to one knee over the motionless Justin and examines his torso before placing his two fingers, now covered in a red liquid, just below the navel. He draws a straight line parallel with the waistline of Justin’s pants. He lifts his fingers and moves across an inch before drawing a circle around the umbilicus, before adding a tail to the symbol. Another inch across, working his way up the torso, he scrawls a symbol which resembles a cross. Is this some sort of sacrifice? Torak notices he is running low on “ink” and so dips his fingers back into the cut to refill. He returns to his workpiece and continues an inch across from the last symbol and draws another, shorter straight line before using one finger to place a dot a centimeter above it. It’s starting to come clear now. That’s that familiarity kicking in as the symbols collectively resemble a familiar name. Torak completes his work with something that looks like a bridge followed by a hollow circle. Torak pushes himself to his feet to admire his art from a better view. Looking down it reads: l a t i n oConveniently late, a hoard of officials and road agents rush to the ring from the back. They don’t enter, but they do urge Torak to back-away from the injured worker. Torak does, edging backwards away from his victim, toward the rope. He turns and exits the ring, making his way past the officials who shuffle nervously out of his way. Torak heads to the back without stopping and without looking back. He eventually reaches the curtain just as some EMTs with a stretcher make their way to the ring. Torak disappears, but the remnants of his actions do not. Nor does Justin’s pain. The shot fades to commercials with Justin carefully being loaded onto the stretcher.
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Torak
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Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 6, 2009 10:30:08 GMT -5
Meltdown, 2nd February 2006 A trail of pain
We cut to the back to a scene of mild-chaos, if that isn’t a contradiction in terms. EMTs rush frantically towards an ambulance waiting impatiently, it’s engine running and driver raring to leave. Justin Jehst is laid out on a stretcher, unconscious and red faced. Not from embarrassment, falling at the hands of Torak holds no shame. No, this certain shade of red is synonymous with pain and torture, and it isn’t even his own blood. You don’t have to be an MD to reach the prognosis that Justin will be out of action for a while. If not through physical anguish then at least mental torment will hinder his return to the ring. The EMTs lift the stretcher onto the back, aided by helpful road agents, then clamber on themselves to join Justin for his imminent journey. One EMT, a burly black fellow seems to want to get going as soon as possible. He utters to no-one in particular; “His neck doesn’t look too good. Let’s go!”The doors close and Justin is swallowed up by the ambulance. The sirens come to life as the engine roars and the ambulance pulls away. We see it rushing through the parking lot and through the entrance, the security barrier already raised in anticipation. The shot lingers for a few seconds after the ambulance disappears. From a distance, the sound of an engine roaring can be heard. Tires screech and out from the left side of the parking lot a car emerges. To motor enthusiasts the car is easily identified, even from the distance, as a 1971 Chevrolet Nova SS. The rear is rusted but hints of dark blue can be made out. The car follows the path of the ambulance and manages to squeeze it’s way out of the parking lot before the barrier can fall. Who could be in such a rush?
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Torak
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Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 6, 2009 10:32:54 GMT -5
Warfare, 6th February 2006 A cry for help (LtP002) Ah, Nostalgia. A close relative and commonly an instigator of familiarity. Looking back to the incidents you became acquainted with. The moments of enjoyment that are warmly welcomed to memory and even more warmly welcomed in a physical presence. Then there are those moments you’d rather forget. Moments that you would rather erase from memory and have never brought to mind again. Worse still, a physical manifestation of those moments are scorned upon for conjuring up unwelcome memories. On the Alphatron a familiar image. A plain white surface…but this is not what makes this shot familiar. It is the grey bars surrounding and the red circle in the top right hand corner, indicating the return of the amateur-cam, that are dreadfully familiar. Initial fears are that Torak is once again lurking outside Latinos’ room with a high possibility of Latino occupying it. Fears are soon subsided however as the shot turns away from the surface, realised to be a wall, and it is immediately apparent that the venue of this picture is not the ACW arena at all. In fact, it’s not even live. Sharp-eyed viewers spot the date in the bottom corner. 02/02/06…Thursday Night. A figure, slim and voluptuous, makes it’s way into shot wearing a nurses uniform. She is standing a few feet from the camera, observing a chart that she holds in her hands. Another figure makes it’s way into shot, joining the nurse by her side. He is dressed in a white coat and hangs a stethoscope around his neck. Either this is a hospital, or the ACW monkeys have accidentally run a seedy porn movie. Either way, eyes stay rooted on the action. The doctor shares an interest in the chart in the nurses possession. The interest is not the only thing they have in common. They also share a look of concern on their faces as they read the details on the chart. The doctor looks back in the direction he came from and shakes his head, pointing into a room and offers instructions to the nurse. She nods, accepting before they both set off down the corridor, away from the camera. A pause. The two disappear around a corner and what we assume is Torak makes his move. He approaches the door cautiously, aware that in a busy hospital people come and go and a half-masked brute with a camera sort of stands out a little. Continuing into the room, the sound of beeping emitted from an Electrocardiogram pulses around the room. An atmosphere of pain and tragedy can be felt through experience and empathy. In the far corner of the room a figure occupies a clean white bed. His eyes closed with his upper body almost vertical due to the mound of pillows beneath him. He is vaguely recognizable, with a black eye and cuts on his face masking his familiar identity. Upon closer inspection the battered face can be distinguished as Justin Jehst, traumatized by the hands of Torak on Thursday night. We close in on Justin until we’re barely a foot away. Suddenly, his eyes open wide and the beeping of the ECG become much more rapid. His mouth widens, at first no sound escapes but he soon manages to blurt out a cry for help. It’s too late. Torak swoops in and grabs Justin by the arm and yanks him out of the bed as Justin cries out in pain. Torak drags Justin across the floor before reaching an empty wheelchair which he soon fills with Justins’ posterior. Torak moves around to the rear of the wheelchair and bgeins to push Justin who is way too weak to move. At this point a group of nurses and doctors, including the pair from the beginning of this segment. They implore urgently with Torak to relinquish his terrifying grasp of his hostage. Torak does not bat an eye-lid however, he only continues on his way with Justin helplessly slumped in the seat. Torak exits the room and turns to the left before making his way through the mazing corridors, hurtling past aghast on-lookers. He eventually reaches the hospital exit and increases his pace for the final stretch. A burly hospital porter makes one last gasp attempt to halt this madness. He is easilly disposed of though as Torak approaches him and hurls him out of the way. Torak turns the wheelchair around and begins to back out through the doors, hauling the distressed Justin down some stairs before turning around once more to push him forward. He eventually reaches a car. The rusted 1971 Chevrolet Nova had been abandoned in the middle of the parking lot with the trunk already open. He grabs Justin by the arm again and lifts him up out of his seat before heaving him into the open trunk. He slams the door shut, muffling the groans and strains of the misery stricken Canadian. Torak saunters to the drivers door and climbs in before slamming the door shut. The engine snarls into life before he sets off out of the parking lot before the shot abruptly ends. A moment of black . . . The blackness withers away and the image on screen is now the battered and bruised face of Justin Jehst, glaring helplessly down the lens of the camera. His neck is hugged tightly by a large white neck-brace, causing his head to stay sturdy, straightening his posture but not adjusting the frightened frown on his face. Justin breathes in, his lip quivering, before beginning to speak, his voice slightly stifled by the presence of the neck brace. “Hello everyone at ACW. I…er, I have been instructed by Torak to deliver a message to a certain individual. Latino.”Justin closes his eyes and grimaces, possibly from the pain that is prevalent throughout his body. He coughs lightly and a trickle of blood spurts from his mouth and dribbles down his chin. He continues awkwardly and with a sense of regret. “Latino, what happened Thursday was just a small illustration of Torak’s capability. He showed everyone what he can now do at will, an element of him that was not prevalent in his previous ACW tenure.”Justin stops and his eyes glance up to his right. There is a noticable shadow looming over him. His lips move as if receiving instructions from an outer presence. He returns his gaze to the camera. “I have also been told to warn anyone with aspirations of being a hero not to attempt to locate me. I am hidden away in the depths of the arena and in the last place you will think of looking.”Justin looks back up at the non-visible entity. The shadow that was cast over him slowly drifts away and footsteps can be heard moving away. Justin quickly glances at the lens and then back to the figure, making sure it is far away. He turns back to the camera and begins to plea excitedly… “Latino! Latino, please, if you can see this please come and save me…Torak has me hidden away in th…”He gets cut off as Torak comes screaming into shot and delivers a wild forearm to the head of Justin. He cries out in pain as he collapses to the floor. Amidst the commotion the camera is accidentally knocked over, damaging the lens and forcing the screen to turn black again. However, the sound remains; “No! No! Don’t do th…”There is a sound of breaking. The final moments of obscurity are haunted by merciless roars from Torak and cries of distress from Justin.
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 6, 2009 10:35:11 GMT -5
Meltdown, 9th February 2006 Poetic Peril (LtP003) Assumption is a feature that all human minds come equipped with as standard. The only deviant from person to person is the imagination. What one mind may alleviate, another may exacerbate. The recent edition of Warfare had its fair share of assumptions. One notable assumption was made by Latino as he was led to assume that the initiation of Torak’s music indicated the imminent arrival of said superstar. It was during a segment by Torak himself that the on-looking audience were obligated to reach their own assumptions of what occurred during the darkness. Those with tamer imaginations may have assumed (and hoped) the breaking sound was produced by an inanimate object. On the other end of the scale, the wilder imaginations may have assumed something much worse, something you yourself can use your own imaginations to conjure up. With the very beginning of this segment witnesses already assume the worst for anyone involved. Justin Jehst is the first candidate; his beaten and tired face appears on screen sporting fresh cuts and bruises. The once white neck brace also wears reminders of his recent ordeal with blotches of dark red stains in no particular pattern. Justin glares into the camera, a certain sadness transmitting from his eyes, begging sympathy from on-lookers. His hopes of being rescued by Latino on Monday were dashed. Torak has obviously hidden him away well. Justin draws breath…even the simple task of speaking made difficult by the damage dealt to him in recent weeks. “Hello, ACW fans. Your favorite Canadian hostage here. I can assure you I am not experiencing Stockholm syndrome.”Justin manages to force a slight smile but you know (through assumption) that Torak is not amused by Justin’s attempt at humour. Well, his name is Justin Jehst after all. Justin continues regardless, possibly already accustomed to the fact that there is no saving him from anything Torak wishes to express. “Once again I have been instructed by Torak to address Latino on his behalf. It is Torak’s intention to clarify for you all and especially Latino why exactly he returned to the ACW. He wishes to express it in the form of a poem…”Justin reaches down to his lap and a faint sound of something opening is heard. He lifts something up and reveals them to be a pair of glasses which he carefully places on his face, wary of the bruises around his eyes when he puts them on. He reaches down again and next lifts a piece of paper up in-front of him and holds it at reading distance. He clears his throat before beginning. “Restitution, A poem by John Heide…er, I mean Torak.”A thud can be heard from off screen, presumably Torak slamming a clenched fist onto a desk. It represents the assumption that Torak does not appreciate Justin’s continuing jocularity. Justin swallows hard, realizing that if he maintains this care-free attitude he could soon land himself in further lumber and earn some fresh bruises. He continues with a sincere tone. “The spark of hurt, the cause of shame, The moment the player lost the game, The taste of blood, the taste of chain, The moment the beast was led to slain, No lack of rage, no one to blame, The moment the spark ignites the flame.
The train set off, the ball to roll, He paid the price with his own soul, Forgot his aim and lost his goal, He paid the price and switched the role, Sank in too deep to fill the hole, He paid the price which took its toll.
A loss of reputational fray, He lost his life to disarray, An obsession that let priorities stray He lost his love who walked away, Return to haunt, to stalk his prey He lost his mind in attempt to allay.
Die, Latino! Die, Latino! Die, Latino! Die!”Justin’s eyes widen as he reads the final stanza. He lowers the paper but does not raise his head as the final words sink in. Off screen a disconcerting, thundering laugh echoes around the room, obviously emanating from Torak. Clearly Torak’s sense of humour diverges from that of Justin…and of everyone else for that matter. Justin turns his head in the direction of the source of the poignant laughter which continues booming around the room. A hand reaches into shot and snatches the poem from the grasp of Justin. The iniquitous chortling continues but fades away. The sound of a door opening is heard and the laughing is completely drowned out as it slams shut. The clunking of a key locking the sturdy sounding door are the final sounds before the shots fades out.
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Torak
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Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 6, 2009 10:36:41 GMT -5
Warfare, 13th February 2006 An empty room (LtP004) We return to the hallway, situated in a previously uncovered area of the ACW arena, arriving to find Torak surging through the winding corridors, hurtling between the walls of drab grey bricks. He eventually reaches the door, now barely clinging onto the door frame, pulling the hinges to their very limits. Torak pauses to inspect the door. Already his rage is building. Once he concludes that the door is indeed open he enters the room. He examines the room and immediately notices the absence of Justin. He could swear that is where he left him. Torak extends and arm to the chair and grips the backrest tightly before picking it up off the floor then hurling it at the wall where, upon impact, it smashes into a dozen pieces. I hope it wasn’t expensive. The cost of furniture is the last thing on Torak’s mind as he continues scanning the room. He stops in his tracks and looks immediately down. Next to his left foot are the remains of his video camera. He hunches over to pluck it from the floor before standing up straight again to examine it. He tests it to see if it works but it seems it is damaged beyond repair, indicated by Torak shaking it wildly before discarding it to the floor again. Torak begins to take his leave, stepping through the doorway and turning to the left, stopping to take a look down the corridor. Behind him, in the distance, a small and scrawny figure makes his way into shot. It’s quickly recognized as the young kid that has been seen in the company of Alicia Kitsune recently. He scratches his head in bemusement, obviously drawn to the scene by the commotion. There is a pause as Torak stares at nothing in particular. It suddenly dawns on him that there is another presence in the vicinity (apart from the cameraman of course, but he has some kind of immunity). Torak turns 180 degrees, very slowly. It’s like something from a horror movie as Torak’s eyes meet the kids’. The kid pauses and your mind screams, encouraging him to turn around and run. He appears to be fixed, stuck to the spot, probably overwhelmed with fear. Torak begins to approach him slowly. Finally the kid starts to move, shuffling backwards at the same pace as Torak. You almost expect him to trip over pathetically and squirm on the floor. Luckily for him he remains on his feet. However, he is soon stopped as he backs into the wall. The distance between the kid and Torak is decreasing every second. The kid glances to the right. The corridor continues in that direction. He hesitates, almost afraid to push himself away from the wall. He plucks up the courage and finally begins to sprint down the corridor. Torak sets off at a quicker pace. However, it’s evident Torak has no ambitions of becoming an Olympic sprinter as he only half-matches the kids speed. He may look weak, but he has obviously developed the basic survival instincts. As the cameraman turns the corner the kid is no longer in sight. Torak soon disappears around the next corner too. Mr. Marlowe probably needs to lay off the jumbo sized hot-dogs as he only makes it half-way down this corridor before giving up. His breathing is heavy and indicates his fatigue. Not even the prospect of catching an exclusive horror movie-esque chase scene can inspire him on, but it now leaves us without closure. What if Torak catches the kid? Who will speak for Torak in future? When was the last time Mr. Marlowe got any exercise?
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 6, 2009 10:40:10 GMT -5
The Domino Effect Meltdown, 16th February 2006 In The Drink (DE001) In a hurry. Everyone’s always in a hurry. Whether it’s to get to one place or from one place our fundamental lack of patience compels us to rush everything we do. Unfortunately, it’s while are hurrying that we are more susceptible to mistakes. Emptying the entire contents of your washing basket into the washing machine usually produces a brand new collection of pink outfits because you accidentally left your kinky red underpants in with the rest of your garments. Your lovable snoozing cat is flattened as you leap into your car and reverse without giving much thought to checking behind the wheels. Richard Parker, let this be a warning to you. Sometimes your mind can be in a hurry. Neglecting to absorb the facts and instead jumping to conclusions. This is how we become mis-informed leading us to appear foolish. Rushing down the corridor is the staff member, on drink delivery for the thirsy Latino. He bumps into a fellow staff member who attempts to engage him in conversation. ? : Hey Steve, did you sort out that loose cable leading fro…Steve stretches an arm out and places it on the forearm of his colleague apologetically. Steve : Hey, I’m sorry man but I’ve got to get something for Latino. If I want that Alphatron job I’ve got to be snappy with everything I do now.His buddy nods his head in understandment and allows him to continue on his way. He marches onwards through the corridor until he reaches a waist -high wooden table alongside a water cooler. A sign above the table reads “Free drinks”. On the table Steve encounters various stacks of plastic cups, differed by their size. Large cups, medium cups, small cups and even shot glasses, presumably for the more heavier drinker. A coffee dispenser dominates the table but Steve passes that over as a hot drink is not required. He keeps it mind however, as he’ll be back later. Also littered on the table are cans of soda. In front of them is a single cup, already half-filled with some kind of liquid. On the side of the cup there is a piece of paper stuck on it with something written on it. Upon closer inspection it reads: “Latino”. Steve shrugs and picks the cup up from the table, smelling it. Satisfied he turns away from the table and begins to make his way back to where he came from. “Someone must’ve got it ready for me. This place runs like clockwork!”Steve continues down the corridor out of shot and eventually disappears. We pan back to the drinks table and witness a lengthy shot of the now cup depleted table. On the left side of shot, just above the table a shadow creeps into view. A lurking presence slowly uncovers itself. It’s Torak, looming in front of the refreshments. He turns to face the contents of the table and with one dominating arm sweeps everything clear onto the floor, including the piping hot steel coffee dispenser. He glares down at the mess on the floor, a common scene in Torak’s presence. He begins to chuckle that disconcerting laugh that rumbles through the corridors. Someone had better hurry and warn Latino about that drink…
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Torak
poster
Imagination and fantasy are two components of delusion
Posts: 713
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Post by Torak on Sept 6, 2009 10:41:02 GMT -5
The Domino Effect Meltdown, 16th February 2006 A gratified spectator (DE002) We all take pleasure in our peers’ downfall. It isn’t necessarily a characteristic born from sadism or cruelty. It shouldn’t be considered hedonistic or indulgent. It is merely a feeling of reassurance. Reassurance, that we do not suffer from our imperfections alone. Taking pleasure in your peers’ downfall when you are responsible however is a different matter. It exhibits bitterness and spitefulness and displays an unusually gratuitous display of contempt for the hapless victim. Bitterness, spitefulness and contemptuous are three accurate descriptions of the man of the moment. Torak appears on screen with a satisfied look in his eyes. His arms are crossed across his abdomen, causing his muscles to expand greatly, contributing to his contented appearance. He chuckles to himself maniacally, enforcing the speculation that his psychological state has gradually deteriorated since his previous tenure in ACW. The laugh continues, increasingly building with insanity the foundations. The volume increases from a light rumble to a thunderous roar. The maniacal chuckling that initiated this paroxysm of chortling now seems like light-hearted giggling in comparison. At this point it’s safe to assume Torak is enjoying himself. The camera turns to reveal the source of his amusement. It’s a standard television monitor that has presumably conveying the incidents in the ACW arena so far on this eventful night. Enjoying witnessing the confrontations and altercations of the various ACW stars. Watching the chain reaction of hate channel it’s way through the roster with obvious glee like a young child at the conclusion of a game of Mouse Trap. It’s debatable whether Torak set out to send this wave surging through the ranks of ACW. Inadvertent or not, Torak is taking all credit for it, and is taking obvious pride in his work. The scene eventually fades out as Torak continues to laugh.
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