Post by turbo on Jan 26, 2009 2:37:51 GMT -5
The new GCW Arena. It was a sight to behold. Especially in its sold out state. It left the man under the guise of Turbo Negro a sense of nostalgia. A man who'd competed under the biggest stages in his day, and was now looking to return to the spotlight he'd disappeared from for over a year.
The neck injury that caused it was not a factor anymore. Some men receive an almost.... stage fright, from their returns from such an injury. Afraid that they'll once again, lose a year. Fortunately, that's where Roman came in. The past four months, the grueling retraining, re-conditioning, re-programming that it took to return to the ring were a god-send to stave off any ring rust and injury fears. Enough so, that he feels very confident with the pile of shit he stepped in just minutes into the build up to the launch of the new GCW season.
"Trip Like I Do," by Filter blasts the new sound system of the new arena. It sounded crystal clear, as the synthetic beat accompanied the drums and guitars. Under the guise of Turbo-Negro, he stepped through the digital illumination that was the numerous screens making up the entry way. Already, pyrotechnics had been fired, echoing loudly over the confused noises of the crowd. Most, it sounded like, hated him for "Invading" their favorite super-star's promos.... even that of the retirement of Cal Crossfire. Some were unsure of his stance, and was considered neutral. Others cheered because it was the new GCW season, and the excitement of the incoming superstars released from them in an audible fashion. And not to mention, the children, of whom he probably looked to them to be in their after-school line-up on television. So easy, to have the masses already setting their multi-tiered opinion up on him. It almost felt as if he hadn't been on a long break from playing mental games with the masses.
As he slid into the ring, he would soon find out how natural a come-back this is for him. The first words he spoke into the microphone, without the forced Japanese accent flowed freely, no freezing up for the first time being back in front of a huge crowd.
He spoke to them, to the locker room, his voice masked by a filter in the mask. It sounded almost as if it were that of a StormTrooper's.
"Hello, GCW. Welcome to 2009.
I... you can call me right now, by the name of "Turbo-Negro." Of course, that identity is all but temporary, for in a short while, you will know the truth, along with the rest of the wrestling world.
And let me be the first to warn you. If you already hate me now, for what I've done to your favorite GCW Superstar's... ramblings, talking up of themselves... then just know this.
Once this mask comes off... you'll only hate me more."
That seemed to strike a chord with the audience, who booed because he basically just told them to.
"Do yourself a favor, and save it for when my real theme music hits.
It's amazing, isn't it? Myself, it's been more than a year since I've fought in the middle of the ring. A concussion then, turned out to be far worse... and on the shelf I went. Yet, as the world turns, advocates for change emerge left and right, even so far as to earn a spot in the highest office of the land, the leader of the free world." The crowd cheers at the slight name-drop to their hometown hero, new President Barack Obama. "Yet, for everything that can and does and will change.... there's so much more that stays the same.
For example... I've wrestled much of the roster that is here today. Some making their grand returns, saying the exact same things that they used to. Jerry Massey, for instance, hasn't read a different script it seems in over three years. It's a shame. He's watched one big-leaguer perform, and seems to have stolen his entire gimmick, hook, line and sinker and tries to grasp at straws, spouting the same old garbage, day in and day out. Hell, he's even still wearing the same threads, just sewed on a different set of letters.
Well, Jerry, once again, as much as things have changed... they, like you, remain the same. And something else that's remained the same is just how badly I'll still beat your ass each and every time I'm up against you. Believe me, it's not hard, and I've done it on quite a few occasions.
I could honestly go on and on and on... but that'd be stealing Jin Remmy's gimmick. And my name uses enough of any "N" word to say repeatedly anyways, so we'll just leave the list at that."
Pacing the ring, he looks about the sea of people that have found their way into the building. In the early moments of the show, some are still in search of their seats. Some yell, some jeer at the words he says. Such is the case with any wrestler that steps through the ropes. Nonetheless they are here, and they will, and are, listening.
"As much as they do change, it's just as easy they remain the same. Last time I was here, it seemed that entire federations would be up in arms over the slightest things that have come out of my mouth. And this time, it's holding true once again. Although the flame-fest doesn't come from another city, it happens throughout this very roster. It's so easy to ruffle feathers that it's both sad and amusing at the same time. You see...
I deliberately picked, each and any thing, that could be "big news," or anything that pertains to what I'm here for to flash my stupid little banner up on. Retirements. "I'm Great" World Title Promos. Even promos from those of my past tag team partner or partners. And yes, they are fighting in this... so... if you're the one that I meet first? Suprise.
Why did I do this? Simple. Because I wanted to. Already, Turbo-Negro is on the tips of each and every one of your tongues. Simply because of the whoring of a stupid banner, and maybe a few lines from a narrator. No one of significance has been able to speak without my billboard being somewhere in sight... no big event has happened without my billboard in sight. It was enough to even get a reaction out of each, and every one, of you people here today... whereas someone of this appearance would probably be considered just a comedy act. Think that all that you like, because the moment I come back through that entrance, the game changes. The identity, the music, the name, all of it. Those that still think there's something to cheer about will boo, and boo more harshly as details of just how it is that it is me after highly publicized events the past two years come to light.
It's a cross I've chosen, and jumped at the chance to carry. Your boos are nothing new to me. The hatred of the roster is nothing new to me. The hatred of one or more federations is nothing new to me. Just like holding World Gold is nothing new to me. I could stand here and go on and on and on about my many, previous accolades and accomplishments, but they are just that...
The past. This is 2009. This is a new beginning. My resurrection, and the launching of this federation into a new plateau. I can talk all day long about them, but in the end it comes down to this. Just like I could come right out and tell you who I am, I'd rather just show you not only who I am, but what I'm capable of, so that my current actions are first and foremost, instead of clinging to what I've done."
Being out of action for over a year has left the man with much to say, but, as he pointed out in the end... it was all things he'd rather much show everybody. Although, he's not left the ring yet... certainly someone who's had their toes stepped on could certainly enter the fray...
The neck injury that caused it was not a factor anymore. Some men receive an almost.... stage fright, from their returns from such an injury. Afraid that they'll once again, lose a year. Fortunately, that's where Roman came in. The past four months, the grueling retraining, re-conditioning, re-programming that it took to return to the ring were a god-send to stave off any ring rust and injury fears. Enough so, that he feels very confident with the pile of shit he stepped in just minutes into the build up to the launch of the new GCW season.
"Trip Like I Do," by Filter blasts the new sound system of the new arena. It sounded crystal clear, as the synthetic beat accompanied the drums and guitars. Under the guise of Turbo-Negro, he stepped through the digital illumination that was the numerous screens making up the entry way. Already, pyrotechnics had been fired, echoing loudly over the confused noises of the crowd. Most, it sounded like, hated him for "Invading" their favorite super-star's promos.... even that of the retirement of Cal Crossfire. Some were unsure of his stance, and was considered neutral. Others cheered because it was the new GCW season, and the excitement of the incoming superstars released from them in an audible fashion. And not to mention, the children, of whom he probably looked to them to be in their after-school line-up on television. So easy, to have the masses already setting their multi-tiered opinion up on him. It almost felt as if he hadn't been on a long break from playing mental games with the masses.
As he slid into the ring, he would soon find out how natural a come-back this is for him. The first words he spoke into the microphone, without the forced Japanese accent flowed freely, no freezing up for the first time being back in front of a huge crowd.
He spoke to them, to the locker room, his voice masked by a filter in the mask. It sounded almost as if it were that of a StormTrooper's.
"Hello, GCW. Welcome to 2009.
I... you can call me right now, by the name of "Turbo-Negro." Of course, that identity is all but temporary, for in a short while, you will know the truth, along with the rest of the wrestling world.
And let me be the first to warn you. If you already hate me now, for what I've done to your favorite GCW Superstar's... ramblings, talking up of themselves... then just know this.
Once this mask comes off... you'll only hate me more."
That seemed to strike a chord with the audience, who booed because he basically just told them to.
"Do yourself a favor, and save it for when my real theme music hits.
It's amazing, isn't it? Myself, it's been more than a year since I've fought in the middle of the ring. A concussion then, turned out to be far worse... and on the shelf I went. Yet, as the world turns, advocates for change emerge left and right, even so far as to earn a spot in the highest office of the land, the leader of the free world." The crowd cheers at the slight name-drop to their hometown hero, new President Barack Obama. "Yet, for everything that can and does and will change.... there's so much more that stays the same.
For example... I've wrestled much of the roster that is here today. Some making their grand returns, saying the exact same things that they used to. Jerry Massey, for instance, hasn't read a different script it seems in over three years. It's a shame. He's watched one big-leaguer perform, and seems to have stolen his entire gimmick, hook, line and sinker and tries to grasp at straws, spouting the same old garbage, day in and day out. Hell, he's even still wearing the same threads, just sewed on a different set of letters.
Well, Jerry, once again, as much as things have changed... they, like you, remain the same. And something else that's remained the same is just how badly I'll still beat your ass each and every time I'm up against you. Believe me, it's not hard, and I've done it on quite a few occasions.
I could honestly go on and on and on... but that'd be stealing Jin Remmy's gimmick. And my name uses enough of any "N" word to say repeatedly anyways, so we'll just leave the list at that."
Pacing the ring, he looks about the sea of people that have found their way into the building. In the early moments of the show, some are still in search of their seats. Some yell, some jeer at the words he says. Such is the case with any wrestler that steps through the ropes. Nonetheless they are here, and they will, and are, listening.
"As much as they do change, it's just as easy they remain the same. Last time I was here, it seemed that entire federations would be up in arms over the slightest things that have come out of my mouth. And this time, it's holding true once again. Although the flame-fest doesn't come from another city, it happens throughout this very roster. It's so easy to ruffle feathers that it's both sad and amusing at the same time. You see...
I deliberately picked, each and any thing, that could be "big news," or anything that pertains to what I'm here for to flash my stupid little banner up on. Retirements. "I'm Great" World Title Promos. Even promos from those of my past tag team partner or partners. And yes, they are fighting in this... so... if you're the one that I meet first? Suprise.
Why did I do this? Simple. Because I wanted to. Already, Turbo-Negro is on the tips of each and every one of your tongues. Simply because of the whoring of a stupid banner, and maybe a few lines from a narrator. No one of significance has been able to speak without my billboard being somewhere in sight... no big event has happened without my billboard in sight. It was enough to even get a reaction out of each, and every one, of you people here today... whereas someone of this appearance would probably be considered just a comedy act. Think that all that you like, because the moment I come back through that entrance, the game changes. The identity, the music, the name, all of it. Those that still think there's something to cheer about will boo, and boo more harshly as details of just how it is that it is me after highly publicized events the past two years come to light.
It's a cross I've chosen, and jumped at the chance to carry. Your boos are nothing new to me. The hatred of the roster is nothing new to me. The hatred of one or more federations is nothing new to me. Just like holding World Gold is nothing new to me. I could stand here and go on and on and on about my many, previous accolades and accomplishments, but they are just that...
The past. This is 2009. This is a new beginning. My resurrection, and the launching of this federation into a new plateau. I can talk all day long about them, but in the end it comes down to this. Just like I could come right out and tell you who I am, I'd rather just show you not only who I am, but what I'm capable of, so that my current actions are first and foremost, instead of clinging to what I've done."
Being out of action for over a year has left the man with much to say, but, as he pointed out in the end... it was all things he'd rather much show everybody. Although, he's not left the ring yet... certainly someone who's had their toes stepped on could certainly enter the fray...
Open to anyone to respond, I'd ask that if you do know Turbo's loosely guarded identity that you do not reveal it at this time for storyline's sake. Thank you.
