Who wants some of THE MAN?(O2A)

[theman]

The Man's music hits over the arena and he walks out onto the stage and taunts for the fans. He receives a mixed reaction from the fans as he makes his way down the ramp, taunting some more. Once at the ring, The Man slides underneath the ropes and taunts some more before receiving a Mic form a ring worker.

[glow=purple,2,300]How is everyone tonight?[/glow]
Fans scream.

[glow=purple,2,300]Well The Man for one is feeling mighty fine TONIGHT. So The Man am out here tonight to challenge ANYONE from the back. ANYONE who thinks they can step toe to toe with The Man.[/glow]

Fans scream.

[glow=purple,2,300]And since this is A PPV and the first PPV, whoever is MAN enough to come out here and challenge The Man, will have the privilege to pick WHATEVER match type they want homie.[/glow]

Fans ewwww and ahhhhh as The Man licks his lips.

[glow=purple,2,300]SO whoever thinks they can BEAT THE MAN, high tail your way outta that backroom and make your way out here, and look The Man eye to eye and just tell The Man you can beat him. Because YOU CAN'T BEAT THE MAN WITH THE PLAN.[/glow]

Fans boo as The Man smiles and taunts awaiting someone to arrive on the scene.

[kross]

"The Man" would fall disappointed as it seemed that no one was willing to accept his challenge. However abruptly cutting through the pungent silence was darkness. Crimson lights illuminated the arena as a fervor trembled through the crowd like a woman to her husband's touch. It bended; no it yielded and paid reverence. Hauntingly, "Mircale Maker" by Delirious? yet soothingly pierced the very souls of the spectators while an omniscient fog bank rolled from behind the stage curtain. A lean figure would thusly present himself in all of his splendor, the mist parting at his call. He was some would call handsome as the lights returned to normal, a deep and rich complexion indicating some exoticism. Captivating hazel eyes peered inquiringly at "The Man" as the figure stroked a rounded, boyish chin. His brow furrowed as he paced, taper clothing fitting his form sensuously as a few of the women in the front row swooned. Curiously, however, the figure didn't respond to their wanton advances and lustful whooping. His gaze was purposefully focused on the self-proclaimed man. Adjusting the Galliano silk tie that adorned his neck as well as the diamond cuff links that garnished his wrists, the figure would finally raise his hand. Suddenly, the song ceased as though the figure commanded a mystical and spiritual presence. His eyes closed as he sat frozen; transfixed in thought or perhaps in prayer. Though soon, a dulcet, autocratic voice would boom through the speakers as a microphone was spoken into.

Damion Kross
"Matthew 16:26 says 'For what profit is it to a man if he gains the world and loses his own soul?' And I find myself listening to you, Mr. Man, and slowly losing my soul in the process to absolutely no monetary profit. The only thing that I have gained in listening to your seemingly endless prattling, however, is the knowledge that the prayers of millions shall be answered in shutting you the fuck up."

The audience would be overjoyed at this divine proclamation. The figure would smile as the crowd cheered, warmth spreading from his finger tips to his toes. The distinct feeling of a high came over him from the adulation of the crowd, giving way to his crooked grin breaking his cavalier, savy facade. Slowly and patiently, he'd speak once more.

Damion Kross
"You are not a man, dear sir. You are an infantile aberration whose single purpose in this world is to provide a foil for the blessed. You are a test from God Himself to remind us why it is best to remain steadfast in one's faith and why it is a smart idea not to consort in sexual relations with your closest of kin. You, kind sir, are the reason as to why parishioners mourn the young and dead. You are the very beacon of all that is wrong in this world. I dare say you are the reason why the Statue of the Virgin Mary continues to weep blood. You are a bane on the human collective and you continue to waste the precious resources of oxygen, the mind, and blood that God has so graciously allowed for you to keep. But the most grievous of your transgressions against the Heavenly Father is the fact that you weren't sympathetic enough to take your own life and end the plague that you have become. God tells us to be merciful and turn the other cheek upon our enemies. But still here you remain like a repugnant dog shit stain on an expensive, foreign rug or a case of herpes. So I must ask what possesses you to even think that anyone doesn't condemn your stained soul to Hell where it belongs?"

[theman]

Man has a confused look on his face.

[glow=purple,2,300]What in the name of 50 Cent did you just say to The Man? The Man is sorry homie but The Man didn't understand one god damn thing you just said over there. A speech like that may turn on that gay guy running around backstage, but not The Man. The Man is only turned on by the most hottest and best sexed Women EVERRRR. Seriously now homie, have you taken one to many pills this morning? All this shit about God and The Man and Father is just driving The Man NUTS. let me as you a quick question, what possess' YOU to come out here and tell The Man that he is not EVERYTHING The Man knows he is? Huh? What was that? Ohhhhhh The Man had no idea.[/glow]

Man laughs as Damian is confused.

[glow=purple,2,300]The Man had no idea that you were once kidnapped and tortured by The Devil himself? WOW, The man must say, that is tragic indeed. Wait what was that? The Devil forced you to molest and get molested by MORE then ONE man? HUHHHHHHHH...............The Man is speechless.[/glow]

The crowd laughs.

[glow=purple,2,300]The Man sends out his condolences to yours truly. Wait what? The men were Adolf Hitler? Attila The Hun? AND OH MY GOD Tom Cruise? Wait, isn't he still alive? Man The Man says you better get your damn sources straight. Oh and before The Man forgets I accept your weird godly offer to a match. Even though I don't think he is a wrestler.Alright enough chit chatting here from The Man, the GCW is no place for preachers like you. We do WAYYYYYYY to many ILLEGAL things here, like curse the lords name in vein, The Man shall steal whatever the hell he wants, and shit if The Man shall kill, The Man will.[/glow]

Man laughs again.

[glow=purple,2,300]The Man hopes by now The Man has made you realize that this is not your place homie sadler. Your place is down the street and inside the Chicago Church of the Brethren. Got The mans point now homie?[/glow]

Man waits for a response.

[kross]

Laughter. It was a natural response to how ludicrous and absurd the Man's meandering speech was. To this a pacing Kross would merely pause, holding a hand up to again exert an almost supernatural control over the crowd.

Damion Kross
"Well now that you've given the world incontrovertible evidence that you are an absolute jackass, I think that I can see what the problem is. It seems that while the loyal Congregation can keep up with the complex - that means difficult, mature, intellectual, and elaborate - dialect I'm using and you can't, it's quite obvious that while you were sucking from your ghetto gutter slut of a mother's teat, it affected those God-given brains of yours adversely. Apparently, you cannot comprehend something that ordinary people call "the English Language". And note that out of all the languages in the world, it is not only one of the more simple, mean languages to use but also your native tongue. Of course what this means is that I shall have to dumb down some of the concepts to your level. Never fear, "homie"! I can regress into the state of a Neanderthals, point my club, swing my dreads, and beat my chest just like you can. After all; you have an IQ of 7 and it takes 2 to grunt. SO you aren't the least intelligent damned soul I've come across but you've nearly set a precedent, you corny plebeian."

Patrons alike would all laugh at The Man's expense. Verbose and gifted though he was, one could see that an impassioned Kross was fired up. He would continue down the aisle, loosening his tie and removing his shirt much to the chagrin of the Man and to the viewing pleasure of the feminine audience who cheered exceptionally loud at his bared form. Lithe and muscular, the New Dynasty made his presence known with an imposing set of tattoos that littered his body. Around his naval were written the words "In Nomine Patri" or as translated from Latin to English, "In the name of the Father". A fearsome lion rest upon his left pectoral across a guarded heart. Though intimidating at first glance, the lion, like its human canvas, had soothing, startling eyes. Damion would pause mid-aisle.

Damion Kross
"I am not a preacher, you banal fuck. Preachers are bound by the laws of Man. I am a crusader. The only laws that I abide by supersede, that means overlook for those of us who flunked tenth grade English, are the Laws of God Himself. And with the power of God, I will strike those down who oppose the almighty with a vengeful and turbulent fury. It was once said that "to be the man, you gotta beat the man". I don't intend on beating you, friend. I intend on slaughtering you, pressing your jaw to the curb, placing the base of my foot into that wide orifice you call an ass, give it a stiff kick, and let the holy water on my knee quench your thirst while purifying whatever shell is left after I take your soul. The Devil quivers like a child naked at winter at the very whisper of my name. Legions of Angels weep when I drag tortured souls back to the Gates of Judgment. Priests beg forgiveness when they see me in the street. I am the Seraphic Sinner. What I am can not be broken by mortal hands. And you? You will pray. Go on, "homie". Get on the most powerful and familiar position to you; on your knees. Pray. Pray hard. Pray steadfast to the Lord Almighty that I might heed his son's words for forgiveness and not beat the shit out of you like I was an abusive drunk husband. Because quite frankly, since we want to make homosexual reverences, I've just made you my choir boy. And while you're still on your knees, I want you to ask the Good Lord for some humility. Perhaps even some perspective. Whatever the fuck you ask for is between you and God."

"I'm just here to arrange the meeting."

Damion would quickly leap with a certain amount of grace and speed to the ring canvas, stepping through the threshold of the ring ropes. The audience buzzed with anticipation of coming confrontation. Though Kross seemed undaunted. He directly squared himself up to The Man, unflinching and non-fearing. He would stroke his chin, smiling ear to ear just mere inches away from his oppugnant with his smile slowly fading away.

Damion Kross
"Whomever you think you are is meaningless. Whatever you think you know is worthless. Whatever accomplishments you've experienced amount to nothingness if you're going to take a position of cowardice. My name is Damion Kross. And this is your life ending one day at a time. So what is it going to be, friend? Are you going to accept my challenge or are you going to back down like the coward the Congregation knows you to be? Here. I'll even let you take the first swing. "

Tauntingly, Kross would offer his right cheek for the Man to take his offer and strike him down. Again a coy smile snaked its way onto Damion's boyish features. It was a shit-eating grin to be sure to only be replaced by more biting, lacerating words.

Damion Kross
"No? Then you wouldn't mind if I did the Christian thing to do and turn the other cheek? "

And so he did, waiting for retaliation of some sort.