Post by Real Untamed Demon on Oct 19, 2023 11:35:59 GMT -5
[Amidst the wretched shroud of night, in the heart of the forlorn cemetery, where the ethereal veil between the living and the dead grows ever thinner, there exists a sinister spectacle that defies the very essence of human understanding. In this desolate realm, where tombstones stand as silent sentinels to the memories of the departed, where the winds whisper secrets from beyond the grave, and where the shadows gather to conspire, a thick mist blankets the ground, lending an otherworldly quality to the surroundings. In the distance, the mournful howl of a lone wolf can be heard. The camera slowly pans across the graveyard, capturing the chilling atmosphere. Suddenly, the air grows colder, and a deep, sinister voice begins to echo.]
Voiceover: Darkness prevails, and soon, it becomes my ally as I, the harbinger of torment and the unholy embodiment of your deepest fears, shall reveal the depths of your depravity and the shallowness of your existence.In the heart of darkness, where the spirits of the departed linger, and the shadows themselves cower in fear, you will find the stage for a confrontation like no other. Mr. Johnny Stylez, a name synonymous with debauchery and disgrace, stands alone on the precipice of his own demise. This is no ordinary encounter, for the very earth beneath our feet hungers for the horrors that await within this hallowed ground. Mr. Johnny Stylez stands on the precipice of a nightmare, a descent into the depths of your own fears. But you're not alone on this treacherous journey, for I, Damage, the Untamed Demon, will be your guide through the abyss.
[The camera shifts to reveal Damage, standing amidst the tombstones, bathed in the pale moonlight. Damage is in his wrestling gear with a long black leather overcoat over his wrestling gear. He is not seen wearing the cooler that he used to wear usually. His eyes burn with malevolence, and his form seems to waver as if not entirely of this world. Damage is seen standing looking down at the open Grave. He starts to speak]
Mr. Johnny Stylez…(Damage pauses, his voice a sinister whisper that seems to emerge from the very shadows) Do you hear the whispers, Mr. Johnny? The voices of the departed, their lamentations, their yearning for peace? You've entered my realm, the domain of the Damned, and soon, you shall become a part of it. Can you feel it? The oppressive weight of the earth above, the cold grip of mortality tightening around your heart. You wanted this, didn't you? A Buried Alive match. You think you will be ready for the darkness, the malevolence that resides here. But you were wrong, Mr. Johnny. Dead wrong. You are a fool Mr. Johnny! But, oh, Johnny, I must say, your transgressions extend far beyond the mere boundaries of this wrestling ring. Your notoriety as a pornographic distributor, peddling filth and decadence to the masses, is a taint that clings to your soul, an irrevocable stain that no amount of holy water can cleanse. You have reveled in the sin of your own making, profiting from the degradation of others, and for that, you shall pay a price that transcends the realms of mortal agony.
(Damage turns his head from the open grave as he pauses…and looks at the camera with cold emotionless eyes.Damage's voice grows louder, echoing through the cemetery, sending shivers down the spine of anyone who listens.)
23rd of October, is the accursed grounds of this desolate cemetery, a macabre spectacle is to unfold. A Buried Alive match, everybody says, where one man's soul shall be consigned to an eternal prison, and the other shall bask in the malevolent glory of darkness.This is no ordinary Buried Alive match, my friend. This is a descent into madness, a plunge into the very soul of fear itself. You see, Mr. Johnny, There is indeed a difference between yourself and me. You and your flashy suits, your slick tongue, and your filthy empire of smut. You think that your world is safe from the likes of me? You think you could escape your past, hide behind your facade, and pretend to be something you're not. But here, in this desolate cemetery, the truth will rise from the grave like a specter, and there will be no escape for you.
[The camera pans to reveal the mist-covered graveyard, tombstones shrouded in an eerie fog, as Damage continues.]
The stage is set for the unholy spectacle that is to be our Buried Alive match, and as the moon casts its feeble, ghastly glow upon this godforsaken place, I find it only fitting to expose the wickedness that festers within your very being. You have reveled in your contemptible enterprises, Mr. Johnny Stylez, and soon, your darkest secrets shall be unearthed and thrust into the merciless light of judgment.
[The wind howls, and the camera focuses on Damage's cold, merciless eyes.]
But there is more to this tale, Mr. Johnny, more to the carnival of horrors that unfolds before us. For you, in your deluded arrogance, have brought forth jesters to dance to your twisted tune, jesters in the form of pitiable midgets—Lord Alfred Tibbz and Chris "Conman" Jacobi. You, Mr. Johnny, have reveled in their degradation as you exploit their stature for your own amusement, reducing them to nothing more than grotesque curiosities in your sordid circus.
They cavort and caper at your command, like marionettes pulled by the strings of your sadistic whims. You parade them around, deride them, and profit from their humiliation, and you believe it is all in good fun. Oh, how your amusement shall turn to despair, for in the darkness that now envelops us, even the jesters can become the harbingers of doom. As the winds whisper secrets, let me reveal one more to you, Mr. Johnny: the midgets, your beloved jesters, have chosen a different path. In the shadows, they have found their strength, their purpose, and their alliance with the demon that is untamed. They, who were once pawns in your twisted game, have embraced the darkness and found power within it. They have become the avatars of the demon’s wrath, the emissaries of vengeance.
Your jesters, Lord Alfred Tibbz and Chris "Conman" Jacobi, shall not save you. No, they shall revel in your torment, for they have seen the truth, and they have chosen their side. You were their puppeteer, but now, they pull the strings of their own destiny, and it is a destiny that aligns with mine, the untamed demon.
(Damage takes a step closer to the grave, his eyes locked onto the camera, a wicked smile curling his lips.)
But who am I, you might ask? I am the embodiment of your deepest fears, the nightmares that lurk beneath your trembling bedsheets. I am the incarnation of despair, the harvester of anguish. In these haunted tombstones, where the past and present intertwine in a sinister waltz, I stand as the master of this unholy domain. Mr. Johnny, you may have pranced and preened your way through the land of the living, but soon, you will confront the very essence of your mortality. Mr. Johnny. I'm not just your opponent; I am the harbinger of your darkest nightmares. Your very soul trembles within the confines of your mortal vessel, for you have dared to challenge the abyss itself. I've been to places you can't even fathom. I've danced with the devil himself and his mistress in the deepest abysses, and I've stared into the abyss until it blinked first. And now, I'm bringing that darkness to you.
(He again looks back at the open grave and gestures towards the grave, where the soil seems to writhe as if alive.)
This, Mr.Johnny, is not just any match. No, my friend, this is a Buried Alive match, the cradle of your despair, the tombstone of your dreams.You have proven your naiveness by challenging me in a Buried alive match. There's something about being buried alive, Mr. Johnny. It's the ultimate test of a man's will, the ultimate confrontation with his own mortality. And in that darkness, you'll have to confront the demons that have haunted your every step. Those whispers will become screams, and your fears will come to life. Can you feel the icy fingers of fear creeping up your spine? Can you sense the inevitability of your demise?
(He leans in, his eyes now burning with an unholy fire.)
Listen closely, Mr.Johnny, for the clock is ticking, and the chill that creeps down your spine is but a mere taste of the abyss that awaits. This Buried Alive match, it's not just about victory or defeat, but about the very essence of your existence. As the moon casts a blood-red pallor over these tombstones, you'll soon understand that there's no escape from the void. This, my friend, is where your darkest nightmares take root, and where your soul's torment begins.You may have faced adversity before, Mr. Johnny, but nothing can prepare you for the depths of despair that awaits you in this unforgiving soil. The world watches, but they cannot save you. Your destiny is etched in the very earth you stand upon, and you have paid your dues for your own downfall, whereas I am just its sinister architect.
(With a flourish, Damage produces a shovel, it’s cold steel glinting ominously in the moonlight.)
As the bell tolls and the grave beckons, you'll try to fight, to claw your way back to the land of the living. But with each shovelful of dirt that falls upon you, with each gasp of desperate agony, you'll understand the futility of your struggle. The ominous silence that envelopes this cemetery now will soon be shattered by the symphony of suffering. For in this match, it's not about pinfalls or submissions; it's about survival, about escaping the clutches of the pitiless earth that hungers for the flesh and bone that we all must yield to, eventually. I stand here tonight as the guardian of this abyss, ready to cast you into its depths, where your screams will be but whispers to the fallen souls that rest in unrest beneath your feet.
(Damage takes a step back, admiring the open grave and tombstones around it and taking a deep breath and raising his both arms open as if he is absorbing the energy around the cemetery, Damage continues to speak.)
Look around here, Mr. Johnny, at these decrepit tombstones, at the tortured spirits that linger. They will soon be in the audience, the spectral witnesses to your demise. They say, in this very cemetery, restless souls find no peace. They whisper, Mr. Johnny, and they've been whispering to me. They've told me things about you, things that would make even the bravest men quiver. They've told me about your secrets, your doubts, and your fears. And soon, Mr. Johnny, those secrets will be laid bare for all the world to see.You see, the dead do not lie; they do not deceive. They sense the impending darkness that awaits you, and their wails, their mournful cries, they all beckon you towards your ultimate reckoning. I can sense that you might have prepared for the darkness, but I promise you, you've never prepared for this.
As you step into the abyss, the very earth beneath your feet will rise like a ravenous titan, and you'll find yourself ensnared, imprisoned, in the most terrifying predicament of your life. Imagine, if you will, the dread that courses through your veins as the earth closes in, sealing you. A claustrophobic coffin, where your breath shall run thin, your heart races faster, and the panic will be your constant companion. This, Mr. Johnny, is the true terror of the Buried Alive match, and it is a nightmare from which you will not awake. In this Buried Alive match, it's not enough for me to simply bury you. No, my friend, I have something more...sinister in store for you. When the soil closes over you, when the darkness claims you, something will change.
(He leans in close, his voice dripping with malevolence.)
You see, Mr. Johnny, within this cemetery lies an ancient secret, a place where the boundary between the living and the dead is thin, fragile. And I,...I have harnessed that power. As you lie there, gasping for your last breath, I will speak the incantations that will seal your fate. You will become a vessel, Mr. Johnny, a vessel for all the darkness and despair that this place has ever known.
(He raises the shovel, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his face.)
Your very soul will be bound to this cursed ground, your torment echoing through the tombstones for all eternity. You will become a part of the cemetery's sinister history, a permanent resident in the shadows. Your name, your legacy, will be nothing but a distant memory.
(He lowers the shovel and steps back, his gaze never leaving the open grave.)
So, Mr. Johnny Stylez, as we stand here in this unholy place, know this: your fate is sealed, your doom inevitable. The Buried Alive match is your descent into darkness, your plunge into oblivion. It is your grave, Mr. Johnny, that we shall dance upon tonight, and I shall lead the “Danse Macabre”. I will bury you alive, and in doing so, I will bury your hopes, your dreams, and your very soul. When the final shovel of earth falls, and the darkness claims you, you will become one with the cemetery, a victim of my dark and sinister design.
(He lifts his head to the sky, a haunting laughter escaping his lips, the fog swirling around him.)
The moon above us, pale and distant, shall bear witness to this gruesome spectacle, a witness to your downfall. In the dark corners of this forsaken cemetery, where the spirits of the departed whisper their tales of woe, you shall writhe in agony, gasping for the breath that eludes you, clawing at the suffocating soil that engulfs you. And as the world watches in horrified fascination, as they witness the moment when Mr.Johnny Stylez is swallowed by the abyss, they will know that Damage, the Untamed Demon, is not just a name, not just a gimmick. I am the embodiment of their deepest fears, the nightmare that lurks in the darkest corners of their minds.
(He turns away from the camera, walking toward the grave, the fog enveloping him.)
Soon, Mr. Johnny, you shall become a legend, not for your sordid exploits, but for your wretched end. As the soil embraces you, as the darkness claims you, as the earth consumes you, remember that it was I, Damage, the untamed demon, who brought forth this nightmarish reckoning.Prepare yourself, Mr. Johnny Stylez, for in this Buried Alive match, your soul will be devoured by the very darkness of the cemetery itself. Your demise will be my another masterpiece, and your screams will be the chorus of my dark symphony. Last but not least, you have done the same mistake of Mr. Samuel Chatman. The mistake of not finishing what you have started. I will teach that but it is too late from your side that you will not follow the lesson in future.
Welcome, Mr. Johnny, to your burial.
(With a final Devilish laugh, Damage walks towards the Tombstone of the open grave that is covered by black cloth. Damage removes the cloth as the camera zooms to the name on the Tombstone that reads “In loving memory of LA Johnny Stylez”. The screen fades to black as the Devilish laughter of Damage echoes in the distance, leaving a lingering sense of dread and foreboding.]
Voiceover: Darkness prevails, and soon, it becomes my ally as I, the harbinger of torment and the unholy embodiment of your deepest fears, shall reveal the depths of your depravity and the shallowness of your existence.In the heart of darkness, where the spirits of the departed linger, and the shadows themselves cower in fear, you will find the stage for a confrontation like no other. Mr. Johnny Stylez, a name synonymous with debauchery and disgrace, stands alone on the precipice of his own demise. This is no ordinary encounter, for the very earth beneath our feet hungers for the horrors that await within this hallowed ground. Mr. Johnny Stylez stands on the precipice of a nightmare, a descent into the depths of your own fears. But you're not alone on this treacherous journey, for I, Damage, the Untamed Demon, will be your guide through the abyss.
[The camera shifts to reveal Damage, standing amidst the tombstones, bathed in the pale moonlight. Damage is in his wrestling gear with a long black leather overcoat over his wrestling gear. He is not seen wearing the cooler that he used to wear usually. His eyes burn with malevolence, and his form seems to waver as if not entirely of this world. Damage is seen standing looking down at the open Grave. He starts to speak]
Mr. Johnny Stylez…(Damage pauses, his voice a sinister whisper that seems to emerge from the very shadows) Do you hear the whispers, Mr. Johnny? The voices of the departed, their lamentations, their yearning for peace? You've entered my realm, the domain of the Damned, and soon, you shall become a part of it. Can you feel it? The oppressive weight of the earth above, the cold grip of mortality tightening around your heart. You wanted this, didn't you? A Buried Alive match. You think you will be ready for the darkness, the malevolence that resides here. But you were wrong, Mr. Johnny. Dead wrong. You are a fool Mr. Johnny! But, oh, Johnny, I must say, your transgressions extend far beyond the mere boundaries of this wrestling ring. Your notoriety as a pornographic distributor, peddling filth and decadence to the masses, is a taint that clings to your soul, an irrevocable stain that no amount of holy water can cleanse. You have reveled in the sin of your own making, profiting from the degradation of others, and for that, you shall pay a price that transcends the realms of mortal agony.
(Damage turns his head from the open grave as he pauses…and looks at the camera with cold emotionless eyes.Damage's voice grows louder, echoing through the cemetery, sending shivers down the spine of anyone who listens.)
23rd of October, is the accursed grounds of this desolate cemetery, a macabre spectacle is to unfold. A Buried Alive match, everybody says, where one man's soul shall be consigned to an eternal prison, and the other shall bask in the malevolent glory of darkness.This is no ordinary Buried Alive match, my friend. This is a descent into madness, a plunge into the very soul of fear itself. You see, Mr. Johnny, There is indeed a difference between yourself and me. You and your flashy suits, your slick tongue, and your filthy empire of smut. You think that your world is safe from the likes of me? You think you could escape your past, hide behind your facade, and pretend to be something you're not. But here, in this desolate cemetery, the truth will rise from the grave like a specter, and there will be no escape for you.
[The camera pans to reveal the mist-covered graveyard, tombstones shrouded in an eerie fog, as Damage continues.]
The stage is set for the unholy spectacle that is to be our Buried Alive match, and as the moon casts its feeble, ghastly glow upon this godforsaken place, I find it only fitting to expose the wickedness that festers within your very being. You have reveled in your contemptible enterprises, Mr. Johnny Stylez, and soon, your darkest secrets shall be unearthed and thrust into the merciless light of judgment.
[The wind howls, and the camera focuses on Damage's cold, merciless eyes.]
But there is more to this tale, Mr. Johnny, more to the carnival of horrors that unfolds before us. For you, in your deluded arrogance, have brought forth jesters to dance to your twisted tune, jesters in the form of pitiable midgets—Lord Alfred Tibbz and Chris "Conman" Jacobi. You, Mr. Johnny, have reveled in their degradation as you exploit their stature for your own amusement, reducing them to nothing more than grotesque curiosities in your sordid circus.
They cavort and caper at your command, like marionettes pulled by the strings of your sadistic whims. You parade them around, deride them, and profit from their humiliation, and you believe it is all in good fun. Oh, how your amusement shall turn to despair, for in the darkness that now envelops us, even the jesters can become the harbingers of doom. As the winds whisper secrets, let me reveal one more to you, Mr. Johnny: the midgets, your beloved jesters, have chosen a different path. In the shadows, they have found their strength, their purpose, and their alliance with the demon that is untamed. They, who were once pawns in your twisted game, have embraced the darkness and found power within it. They have become the avatars of the demon’s wrath, the emissaries of vengeance.
Your jesters, Lord Alfred Tibbz and Chris "Conman" Jacobi, shall not save you. No, they shall revel in your torment, for they have seen the truth, and they have chosen their side. You were their puppeteer, but now, they pull the strings of their own destiny, and it is a destiny that aligns with mine, the untamed demon.
(Damage takes a step closer to the grave, his eyes locked onto the camera, a wicked smile curling his lips.)
But who am I, you might ask? I am the embodiment of your deepest fears, the nightmares that lurk beneath your trembling bedsheets. I am the incarnation of despair, the harvester of anguish. In these haunted tombstones, where the past and present intertwine in a sinister waltz, I stand as the master of this unholy domain. Mr. Johnny, you may have pranced and preened your way through the land of the living, but soon, you will confront the very essence of your mortality. Mr. Johnny. I'm not just your opponent; I am the harbinger of your darkest nightmares. Your very soul trembles within the confines of your mortal vessel, for you have dared to challenge the abyss itself. I've been to places you can't even fathom. I've danced with the devil himself and his mistress in the deepest abysses, and I've stared into the abyss until it blinked first. And now, I'm bringing that darkness to you.
(He again looks back at the open grave and gestures towards the grave, where the soil seems to writhe as if alive.)
This, Mr.Johnny, is not just any match. No, my friend, this is a Buried Alive match, the cradle of your despair, the tombstone of your dreams.You have proven your naiveness by challenging me in a Buried alive match. There's something about being buried alive, Mr. Johnny. It's the ultimate test of a man's will, the ultimate confrontation with his own mortality. And in that darkness, you'll have to confront the demons that have haunted your every step. Those whispers will become screams, and your fears will come to life. Can you feel the icy fingers of fear creeping up your spine? Can you sense the inevitability of your demise?
(He leans in, his eyes now burning with an unholy fire.)
Listen closely, Mr.Johnny, for the clock is ticking, and the chill that creeps down your spine is but a mere taste of the abyss that awaits. This Buried Alive match, it's not just about victory or defeat, but about the very essence of your existence. As the moon casts a blood-red pallor over these tombstones, you'll soon understand that there's no escape from the void. This, my friend, is where your darkest nightmares take root, and where your soul's torment begins.You may have faced adversity before, Mr. Johnny, but nothing can prepare you for the depths of despair that awaits you in this unforgiving soil. The world watches, but they cannot save you. Your destiny is etched in the very earth you stand upon, and you have paid your dues for your own downfall, whereas I am just its sinister architect.
(With a flourish, Damage produces a shovel, it’s cold steel glinting ominously in the moonlight.)
As the bell tolls and the grave beckons, you'll try to fight, to claw your way back to the land of the living. But with each shovelful of dirt that falls upon you, with each gasp of desperate agony, you'll understand the futility of your struggle. The ominous silence that envelopes this cemetery now will soon be shattered by the symphony of suffering. For in this match, it's not about pinfalls or submissions; it's about survival, about escaping the clutches of the pitiless earth that hungers for the flesh and bone that we all must yield to, eventually. I stand here tonight as the guardian of this abyss, ready to cast you into its depths, where your screams will be but whispers to the fallen souls that rest in unrest beneath your feet.
(Damage takes a step back, admiring the open grave and tombstones around it and taking a deep breath and raising his both arms open as if he is absorbing the energy around the cemetery, Damage continues to speak.)
Look around here, Mr. Johnny, at these decrepit tombstones, at the tortured spirits that linger. They will soon be in the audience, the spectral witnesses to your demise. They say, in this very cemetery, restless souls find no peace. They whisper, Mr. Johnny, and they've been whispering to me. They've told me things about you, things that would make even the bravest men quiver. They've told me about your secrets, your doubts, and your fears. And soon, Mr. Johnny, those secrets will be laid bare for all the world to see.You see, the dead do not lie; they do not deceive. They sense the impending darkness that awaits you, and their wails, their mournful cries, they all beckon you towards your ultimate reckoning. I can sense that you might have prepared for the darkness, but I promise you, you've never prepared for this.
As you step into the abyss, the very earth beneath your feet will rise like a ravenous titan, and you'll find yourself ensnared, imprisoned, in the most terrifying predicament of your life. Imagine, if you will, the dread that courses through your veins as the earth closes in, sealing you. A claustrophobic coffin, where your breath shall run thin, your heart races faster, and the panic will be your constant companion. This, Mr. Johnny, is the true terror of the Buried Alive match, and it is a nightmare from which you will not awake. In this Buried Alive match, it's not enough for me to simply bury you. No, my friend, I have something more...sinister in store for you. When the soil closes over you, when the darkness claims you, something will change.
(He leans in close, his voice dripping with malevolence.)
You see, Mr. Johnny, within this cemetery lies an ancient secret, a place where the boundary between the living and the dead is thin, fragile. And I,...I have harnessed that power. As you lie there, gasping for your last breath, I will speak the incantations that will seal your fate. You will become a vessel, Mr. Johnny, a vessel for all the darkness and despair that this place has ever known.
(He raises the shovel, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his face.)
Your very soul will be bound to this cursed ground, your torment echoing through the tombstones for all eternity. You will become a part of the cemetery's sinister history, a permanent resident in the shadows. Your name, your legacy, will be nothing but a distant memory.
(He lowers the shovel and steps back, his gaze never leaving the open grave.)
So, Mr. Johnny Stylez, as we stand here in this unholy place, know this: your fate is sealed, your doom inevitable. The Buried Alive match is your descent into darkness, your plunge into oblivion. It is your grave, Mr. Johnny, that we shall dance upon tonight, and I shall lead the “Danse Macabre”. I will bury you alive, and in doing so, I will bury your hopes, your dreams, and your very soul. When the final shovel of earth falls, and the darkness claims you, you will become one with the cemetery, a victim of my dark and sinister design.
(He lifts his head to the sky, a haunting laughter escaping his lips, the fog swirling around him.)
The moon above us, pale and distant, shall bear witness to this gruesome spectacle, a witness to your downfall. In the dark corners of this forsaken cemetery, where the spirits of the departed whisper their tales of woe, you shall writhe in agony, gasping for the breath that eludes you, clawing at the suffocating soil that engulfs you. And as the world watches in horrified fascination, as they witness the moment when Mr.Johnny Stylez is swallowed by the abyss, they will know that Damage, the Untamed Demon, is not just a name, not just a gimmick. I am the embodiment of their deepest fears, the nightmare that lurks in the darkest corners of their minds.
(He turns away from the camera, walking toward the grave, the fog enveloping him.)
Soon, Mr. Johnny, you shall become a legend, not for your sordid exploits, but for your wretched end. As the soil embraces you, as the darkness claims you, as the earth consumes you, remember that it was I, Damage, the untamed demon, who brought forth this nightmarish reckoning.Prepare yourself, Mr. Johnny Stylez, for in this Buried Alive match, your soul will be devoured by the very darkness of the cemetery itself. Your demise will be my another masterpiece, and your screams will be the chorus of my dark symphony. Last but not least, you have done the same mistake of Mr. Samuel Chatman. The mistake of not finishing what you have started. I will teach that but it is too late from your side that you will not follow the lesson in future.
Welcome, Mr. Johnny, to your burial.
(With a final Devilish laugh, Damage walks towards the Tombstone of the open grave that is covered by black cloth. Damage removes the cloth as the camera zooms to the name on the Tombstone that reads “In loving memory of LA Johnny Stylez”. The screen fades to black as the Devilish laughter of Damage echoes in the distance, leaving a lingering sense of dread and foreboding.]