Post by electricenigma on Nov 9, 2006 20:32:09 GMT -5
What makes an enigma? What makes a phenomenon?
It's their ability to surpass the expectations laid before them.
Their ability to conquer all that is thrown at them,
their ability to show that they are at the top of the heap.
Who's an enigma? Who's a phenomenon?
Pohatu.
A chilly night where most people are inside, sipping away at their hot chocolate and watching some cheesey b movie on WHO. It's nights like this where athletes aren't expected to be seen outside, a night where they're especially not expected to be training. But this is exactly what is happening, what with Pohatu standing in the middle of a park, going through a typical work-out. Clad in pair of typical workout pants, a sweatshirt and a simple pair of tennis shoes, most would just label him as a fitness freak. Those how know that he's a professional wrestler, whether it be friends, family or fans know that this isn't the case. The electric enigma came to a halt after a few more sets of jumping jacks, slowly regaining his breath before chuckling and sitting down, shaking his head.
I made a fool out of myself in my debut with WFWF, I realize that. Sure, I won and everything...but look at what some of the crap that Master of Destruction pulled on me. Actually able to leap on my back? Fool me into falling into the ropes? I’m a superstar that’s not supposed to fall for moves that idiots like Jeff Jarrett used to retain his title. But I did...so now I have to make up for it by beating on some yardtard with a single digit IQ.
Pohatu shook his head and, with a visible wince on his face, ran his hand over his shoulder, making it clear that he had recently done something that had left his shoulder tender. Standing up, the electric phenomenon pulled off his sweatshirt, revealing that he hadn’t worn anything underneath it. On his left shoulder was a tattoo in the shape of a falcon, the ink being as black as the night, though it stood out on his unusually pale skin. With a small, sheepish smile, he drew the sweatshirt back on, shivering once before refocusing his eyes.
Despite what I’ve said before, I finally went and put one of these tattoos on me. I got it as a reminder to myself...to not allow myself to faily as horribly as I did at my debut with WFWF, to always go one hundred percent. Doesn’t matter if he’s some never-been or if he’s biggest name in the federation...one hundred partner at all times. My upcoming match is a perfect example for me to do just that. Just like the falcon is something that people stare up in awe at, I, too, will give a performance that will cause to be able to go home satisified. Obo, I know you’re an accomplished wrestler. You’ve held a considerable more amount of titles than I have...but titles don’t really matter. Power ALWAYS comes before the glory. You could’ve held every title there is to hold in the world and I wouldn’t care...because you haven’t defeated ME. I wouldn’t even care if you had defeated Kyzer himself, because I’m the straight edge that Kyzer knows he would stand no chance against.
[/i]It's their ability to surpass the expectations laid before them.
Their ability to conquer all that is thrown at them,
their ability to show that they are at the top of the heap.
Who's an enigma? Who's a phenomenon?
Pohatu.
A chilly night where most people are inside, sipping away at their hot chocolate and watching some cheesey b movie on WHO. It's nights like this where athletes aren't expected to be seen outside, a night where they're especially not expected to be training. But this is exactly what is happening, what with Pohatu standing in the middle of a park, going through a typical work-out. Clad in pair of typical workout pants, a sweatshirt and a simple pair of tennis shoes, most would just label him as a fitness freak. Those how know that he's a professional wrestler, whether it be friends, family or fans know that this isn't the case. The electric enigma came to a halt after a few more sets of jumping jacks, slowly regaining his breath before chuckling and sitting down, shaking his head.
I made a fool out of myself in my debut with WFWF, I realize that. Sure, I won and everything...but look at what some of the crap that Master of Destruction pulled on me. Actually able to leap on my back? Fool me into falling into the ropes? I’m a superstar that’s not supposed to fall for moves that idiots like Jeff Jarrett used to retain his title. But I did...so now I have to make up for it by beating on some yardtard with a single digit IQ.
Pohatu shook his head and, with a visible wince on his face, ran his hand over his shoulder, making it clear that he had recently done something that had left his shoulder tender. Standing up, the electric phenomenon pulled off his sweatshirt, revealing that he hadn’t worn anything underneath it. On his left shoulder was a tattoo in the shape of a falcon, the ink being as black as the night, though it stood out on his unusually pale skin. With a small, sheepish smile, he drew the sweatshirt back on, shivering once before refocusing his eyes.
Despite what I’ve said before, I finally went and put one of these tattoos on me. I got it as a reminder to myself...to not allow myself to faily as horribly as I did at my debut with WFWF, to always go one hundred percent. Doesn’t matter if he’s some never-been or if he’s biggest name in the federation...one hundred partner at all times. My upcoming match is a perfect example for me to do just that. Just like the falcon is something that people stare up in awe at, I, too, will give a performance that will cause to be able to go home satisified. Obo, I know you’re an accomplished wrestler. You’ve held a considerable more amount of titles than I have...but titles don’t really matter. Power ALWAYS comes before the glory. You could’ve held every title there is to hold in the world and I wouldn’t care...because you haven’t defeated ME. I wouldn’t even care if you had defeated Kyzer himself, because I’m the straight edge that Kyzer knows he would stand no chance against.
Frowning slightly, Pohatu reached into the pocket on the front of his hooded sweatshirt, pulling out a piece of paper, though the front was seen only to him. He read through the sheet a few times before nodding and stuffing it back into his pocket, a grin coming onto his face as a gentle chuckle escaped his lips. The blue-eyed, brunette of a high flier interlaced his fingers and then raised his hands up, placing his hands behind his head before gently chuckling again. With a gentle shake of his head, a thoughtful expression was briefly on his face before his eyes came fully into focus, a slightly maniacal expression coming onto his face.
Obo, you are nothing but a hypocrit, a scar on the great WFWF, no matter what others may say. You say that I flip too much, yet you’re the one who thinks they can pull off a top rope corkscrew moonsault, a standing Shooting Star Press. I’ve been attempted to limit my high flying moves, exchanging it for the thing that lead to the creation of professional wrestling; mat wrestling and more strikes. I don’t try to be hardcore, either, seeing as how that is just one more scar on the industry known as professional wrestling. The only weapons I need for when I get in the ring are these arms and legs which have made me famous. If I can inflict the same amount of damage with these arms and legs that you do with your extra weapons, Obo, I think that says something. My bony knees once made it so a person had to have a steel plate put in his face after one knee strike. You want to try and say I’m nothing in the ring? You’re the one that’s nothing in the ring, sir.[/i]
The light heavyweight’s arms dropped from his head, the manical expression turning into full out rage. With a suddenness that would surprise almost anyone, Pohatu suddenly popped up and spun around, swinging his foot out so that it connected with a branch that was slightly off of the ground on the tree behind him. The branch snapped without any trouble at all, flying a good five feet away before touching down on the dirt. Before the branch had even fully snapped off of the tree, Pohatu was already standing in his previous position, the angry expression still on his face.
You see that branch, Obo? That branch represents what I’m planning to do to your head when it comes time for our match. I despise hardcore wrestling with a passion that is only rivaled by purists like Bryan Danielson, and I know that most yardtards would back down when they see how much I’m ready to fight in order to destroy hardcore wrestling. You, Obo? You’re not going to back down, and it’s a real shame for you. You’re far too stupid to back away from me, and it’ll end up being your downfall when I end your career! I’m going to bring a halt to all hardcore wrestling in the federations I join, no matter what it takes. When I fell from the top of an arena because of The Corpse deciding that a huge bump like that was necessary in order to get the fans hyped up. I was out of business for far too long, and I nearly lost my life. I’m not going to take the risk that people who have the chance of having a long-lasting career ahead of them be ruined...just because of HARDCORE WRESTLING![/i]
Pohatu panted a little bit as he finished speaking, his blue eyes wide in a sort of out-of-control manner. Taking slow, deep breathes, the electric enigma slowly squatted down, running a hand through his dark brown hair once. After that, he placed both hands flat on the ground area in front of him, balancing himself as he slowly regained control of himself, his eyes slowly narrowing back down to their normal width at the same time. A light chuckle, like what had been heard from him earlier, escaped from his lips again as he slowly stood up, the cocky expression that people knew him for usually having on when he was walking around being on his face.
Obo, you go ahead and smoke your blunts, your cigarettes, joints or whatever it is you get off on. Go ahead and take another swig from your beer, and bring whatever amount of weapons you want to the match. When it comes right down to it, it won’t matter, because when I get in the ring, and we wrestle....
THE LIGHTNING WILL STRIKE YOU DOWN!
The electric phenomenon turned away and started walking, pulling up the hood on his sweatshirt. On the back was the WFWF logo, making it obvious that he had been visiting the merchandise section of the building. With the logo bouncing in the view, the scene slowly faded...to...black.[/b][/center]
