|[ N E V E R M O R E ]|

' N E V E R M O R E '

Role-Play # : 01 || Record : 000 - 003 - 000 || Achievements : n/a

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*We open up the scene as the camera crew suddenly jumps to there feet as the wWc logo flashes on the screen and the WWE X theme plays for overdrive and quickly we are brought to immediate attention as the fans in the arena are holding signs that say" Raven Shall shine his light of brilliancy on you all" and "Raven is WWEX's Savior" The camera pans around the enoxdrous arena as suddenly we are caught byt the attention of a fan who is wearing a Chris Jericho shirt but quickly, The light's in this arena flicker The intoxicated crowd thus far near the ring area are not giving Lillian Garcia a good time; telling her she has a crooked smile and telling her she needs to be in playboy. Jim Ross and The King are cut off by "You Awful Me" by Gotham Road, the song play's, the sudden calling of birds are heard, The WWEX arena is in total response to the music being played. The calling of birds continues till the riffs of the song come into play and then just like that the lights come back on. Out walks a man wearing blue denim jeans that are torn and rugged as though they were ripped as being pant's and into shorts, below his knee and down his boots are not evenly laced, some flooped and hung over; The formation of dog earsas he had tied them. Now the camera concentrates on this man's upper body as the camera pans up he is wearing a black leather jacket ; the shirt underneath the jacket is no visable. The camera comes forth to his face as now his arms are out as he is doing the crucifix pose, his hands balled up into a fist while he is doing the pose. His hand's are wrapped with white tape as though he is ready to fight. As the camera show's his face and the the lights on the entrance way are toward him the fans give one hell of an ovation for this man as he is known as "The Hardcore Warrior"; "The ECW Legend"; Raven. He is looking about the same he did last time in tna and looking the same with a attitude and better than ever. He doesn't think much of the fans he just moves forward and walks toward the ring as his hands are now set by his sides. He slides under the ropes as he approaches the ring and then as he stands up he falls back against a corner turnbuckle and then sits down in the corner as he pulls out a mic from his jacket pocket. He turns it on but first he lets some of the fans cheer him or boo him wich ever they prefer he gazes over at the fans in this arena as some boo him and cheer as Raven lets them do whatever they choose he whipes his hand across his nose, Raven then levers himself up and stands up and puts the mic up to his face as he stands now you can see some war paint if you will apon his face, he puts the mic to his face and proceeds*

Raven: " I was promised my destiny my approtunity to be a part of this federation and become a champion. I was promised something, In that unknown match, the ladder of succes that i will climb to get to that status of being the main eventer. You know there is a difference between the past and present. The past is normally just a living breathing nightmare that can be overlooked but not re-done. Thats a false statement it was overdone in that barbwire city in ECW when Tommy Dreamer would try and beat me with ever inch of my life, All the time I did the right thing and what did he do he stabbed me in the back? I helped Tommy in ECW when we were a dominant Tag Team but thwat did he do huh? He shit on me just like the WWE did with me, He shited on me! He stabbed me in the back just like he did when I was a child. Tommy was just an outsider and outcast kid like me, the differences and the personality we had, we were both different and no one would accept that, Nobody would accept the fact that we were different but I guess that's just human nature right, I guess thats just apart of what we do. But was it Human nature to beat up a poor defenceless kid, your own son to a bloddy pulp. My father would beat me with ever inch of my body and he would stop at nothing, My mother wouldn't stop him, She and my father both wanted to be-rid of me, They wanted a daughter not a son, They wanted a daughter and years down the road that's what they got, they got a filthy dirty prostatute somewhere still in the streets of The Bowery clensing for her chance to get some money. But being a child I didnt get nothing, I got shit on for so many years, I would try and play with the other children but they would kick me away from the swingset near recess, They would kick me away, Finally one summer came when I got my chance to get away from my drunken abusive father. I went away to summer camp, this was a way for my parents to be-rid of the accident that wasnt suppose to happen, Me! At that summer camp I was just another oustider kid trying to fit in, I thought that it was going to be different but no it was no different, The children would pick on me and toument me. Till one day came, when a boy stood up to these 'jocks' to the popular crowd that have been beating me up since I came there. They beat me up for what? Because I was different. But the boy's name was Tommy he too was tired of all the differences, he too was tired of the 'jocks' the popular crowd and he helped me that day as I had blood broowing down my face and blood squirting from my nose he helped me up and we became the best of friends. But as you know every story pays its toll, and it all begins with a girl, The girl's name was Beluah McGuilacuty. She too was tired of the differences and tired of everything, she became my girlfriend that year at summer camp till one day I caught that son of a bitch Tommy Dreamer kissing my girl, my love, the one true girl I had ever loved he toker her away from me, He toke it all away from me, That day I saw them lock lip's the downfilled sage that is my life turned into a shadow, that shadow was the raven effect, the swirling endless pain that i felt. But years later I would get my hands on Tommy Dreamer and I would take him on in that Barbwire city in Philedilphia, and there along side of Tommy was Beluah. But it all changed that downfilled Shadow I became that Raven Effect, and I brought down the names in that company in ECW that were governed by the supreme Judge of the Clockwork Orange House of Fun. My Vengeance I had was in the grasp of my hand as I toke out as much appaling victims as possible and brought them to there knee's and they all saw the light. "

*Raven lets his words clatter of the crowd as they are in amusment over Raven talking, Raven then continues as he puts the mic to his face*

Raven: " Nothing will satisfy me more than to keep that light going and to bring my Vengeance upon those Edge, As I will close and clinch these fists and from there I will walk out with my head high. But what you people need to come to realize is that I Raven I am going to take out as much collateral damage as much as I can until I get my hands on that pathetic excuse for a human being Chris Jericho, and no I am not going on some Canadian rampage. You see Jericho, I have watched you brawl and I have watched you fight in a compnay that literally shit on me. The WWE, I saw you rise to the occasion and become a World Hevayweight Champion, You have become the World Champion here in WWEX. I have also seen the alliance called 'The Four Horseman' form and I for one dont really care for your pathetic little Horseman. I for one dont really care about how many times you have held the WWE X Title. But see no matter how many times you form your alliances and no matter how many times you have won a world title, you have not faced me, ala, Raven. We shall me one day Jaericho but not now cause I have to face Edge. Edge let me tell you of a little story of a little boy named Scott Sameul Levy he died and quickly tunred his life into the on going sage that wich is the raven. Scott Samuel Levy died, He died and was crucfied for your sins. You see Edge you have what it takes here in WWE X but what your failing to realize is that I have what it takes to take you down. For all your crummy titles like Jericho, I just dont believe you are worthy enought to take on me.You grew up with a silver spoon up your ass and got everything you ever wanted. On Christmas you got present's and on Christmas morning you got it all from present's to a perfect breakfast, did I ever get perfect Breakfast? No I got hit with a bottle of Jack Daniels if I asked my parents to fix me something for breakfast, You got it all, Your house sorrounded by a white picked fence and in the backyard was a doghouse, There lived a dog, in the dog house the dog would get beat, beat because he was nothing like the two families i describe to you here, He got beat because he was different. But on the inside lived a perfect family and a another dog that had everything from a perfect bone a perfect little pillow to lay its head on and there he did not get shit on like the dog on the outside, he was protected. and the family was well protected, My family wasnt protected we didnt shelter each other ...WHAT ABOUT ME? WHAT ABOUT RAVEN? ...But you Edge will just be welcomed to what is commonly known as The Raven Effect, I welcome you to my Clockwork Orange House of Fun. So let it be written, so let it shall come to pass ....Quoth The Raven --Nevermore "

*Raven throws down the microphone and does the crucifix and and then suddenly "Believe In Nothing" by Nevermore hits as Raven leaves the ring and heads back to his locker room*

|[ 7:45pm; House in The Bowery ]|

*We open up to what looks like a bedroom in a run down old house, dimly lit and with a feeling of intense claustrophobia, a feeling not helped by the flaking paint on the walls and the general aura of dank that hangs around the room like a mist. From what we can make out by looking out of the room’s only window, boarded up in places and mostly obscured by dirt and grime in others, it is early evening, with the warm glow of the summer sun casting peculiar shadows on the bare wooden floorboards thanks to the patches of dirt on the window pane itself. In this dim light, we can make out a rickety old wooden chair, one of its legs taped up with grip tape to prevent it from falling apart, and with several things carved into the back, ‘I Hate You’ being a prominent one. An old pine bedside table sits next to the chair, with a broken lamp perched on top of it along with a long dead plant. A few old posters, dog eared and torn, adorn the walls, featuring some of the more well known bands from the mid 90s grunge rock and death metal scene, and an unsteady pine bed is shoved in the corner, surrounded by posters. The bed is broken in places, barely held together by nails, tape, and glue, and looking as if it may fall apart at any moment. A mothballed duvet cover sits on top of the bed; its original colour lost to the rolling sea of grey it has embraced now. Also sitting on the bed, looking around at his surroundings with an intriguing mixture of distaste and an indigenous familiarity, is the World Wrestling Entertainment X uncrowned World Heavyweight Champion, a man with more potential than the rest of the WWE X put together, the Hardcore Legend known to the world only as Raven. Raven is wearing a pair of old black wrestling boots, haphazardly laced up and torn in places, some old denim jeans that have been weathered and torn over years of wear and tear to become a pair of long shorts, and a rugged black leather jacket that has a large whole in the left elbow and several black patches sewn over other tears and holes. The jacket is open, revealing some of Raven’s intricate and ornate body art to the viewer. His straggly, unkempt, dirty blonde hair is pushed out of his eyes today, and hangs almost like a pair of curtains each side of his face, framing his piercing brown eyes, which are fixed on the camera and also adorned with black grease paint. The Hardcore Legend looks around the room a little more, and then turns to the camera again*

Raven: " I grew up here, in this room. Almost all of my growth, my childhood, the ‘best time of my life’ was spent either here in this empty cell of a bedroom or being beaten to within an inch of my life by my father, my peers, old children, and anybody who wanted to quickly inflate their ego by lynching a helpless child. When I wasn’t in the living room downstairs, trying to read and better myself, to drag myself out of the gutter and trying to pretend I did not hear the ceaseless drone of my mother’s television programs, I was here. When I wasn’t in the kitchen, trying to prepare myself a nutritious meal with the leftovers, the scraps, my parents left for me after they had sat down to eat with their beloved daughter, my sister, I was here. When I wasn’t cowering in the closet under the stairs, trying to hide from my father when he came home drunken and angry from whatever pathetic, menial, excuse for a job he called work that week, I was here. I spent what felt like an eternity here every day, every time I got home from school. Nobody downstairs, nobody in that happy, happy family, cared where I was. They were just happy I wasn’t down there with them, disturbing their family life. When the other children were playing outside, learning how to kick a ball and run around like headless, moronic chickens as they played tag, I was here in this room, this cell, and I watched them. I watched them as I spat the gravel out of my mouth, picked the thorns out of my legs, wrapped the cuts on my knees, and tended to the bruises that covered my body. I watched them every day as I tended to the wounds that I had received walking home that afternoon, my only crime being different, being poor, being me. I spent my childhood alone, be it in my room, at school, or anywhere I found myself, but always alone. Thinking back to then, to my childhood, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t alone, even when my parents were around. The sound of their fury was harsh, but the sound of their silence was deafening. Its devastation that left me buried beneath a mountain of solitude. My loneliness and despair trapped me in a storm of unimaginable emptiness. And still I looked to them, to the children who should have been my friends, my face pressed against the window as I winced, picking the stones out of the open wounds on my knees. I always watched them, and I longed to be with them. The other kids playing ball outside, and me with them was am illusion I’d allow myself sometimes as I nursed my wounds, but the stark reality was even if my parents would have allowed me to leave my bedroom dwelling, the other kids would not have allowed me to join in with them and their games anyway. They said I didn’t follow their rules. Their stupid rules. Their rules were derived from their families, from their narrow minded, self righteous, foolhardy excuses for parents who didn’t want their precious children corrupted by poor children, who were quite obviously the scum of the earth. And so I couldn’t play with them, and I resigned myself to that fact. I read a lot back then, trying to advance myself, to better myself, to embrace the destiny I knew was waiting for me – a life better than the miserable existence I was living at the time. Of course, if my parents ever found the books I read, they would either give them to my sister, sneering at me as they taught her, my older sister, to pronounce and spell words in the books that I had known for months, and that my parents could barely spell themselves. And so, I hid those books under the floorboards, and my moronic mother and father never found them. "

*Raven holds up a dusty old book with a hardback cover. The cover looks like it was once a shining crimson red, but the years of solitude under the floorboards has left it a dull maroon. In faint gold writing, the words ‘The Lord of the Flies’ can be made out. Raven holds the book up for a few moments, allowing us to take in the title, and then blows a thick layer of dust off of the cover before opening it and leafing through in a somewhat absent minded fashion. Looking up after a few moments, he notices the camera and is shaken out of his reminiscing*

Raven: " William Golding’s ‘The Lord of the Flies’, a first edition, published in 1954. Priceless in value these days, but more so in what it can teach us, in its lessons. The erratic base instincts that govern our human nature, the fragility and weakness of human society, and the price one pays for pandering to society, to try and be like the crowd. That phrase describes the man who is facing me on Raw in an Unknown Match, his name is Edge, beside myself of course, who has been bothered to tear himself away from his busy schedule of preening himself and practising his excuse for a wrestling style to address the public. Edge is an oddity, is he not, an amusement? He tries all of his life to get people to like him, I mean look at him when he was in the WWE, He would do anything for a laugh, he would bend over backwards for somewhat of a laugh. This isn’t grade school anymore, Edge. I’m better than that and I’m better than you, Im better than you Edge. I don’t have to pander to the masses, Edge, to try to gain the acceptance of a peer group that cares nothing for my opinion and a fan base who would cheer you if you wore a clown costume, to feel successful. You dress yourself up, trying to look smart knowing you might be big but yet your brain is still small, hoping your appearance will instill respect in the people and make them care about the garbage you spew every time you get on the microphone, or everytime you use a catchy phrase. They don’t care, Edge, they don’t care about you and they won’t remember you in a few weeks time. The phrase ‘flash in the pan’ comes to mind, sure you have held the intercontineal title in WWE But that doesnt really catch my eye. In a few weeks, Edge, when I’m standing tall as the Savior of this forsaken place, having outlasted you in the Unknown Match that was signed, nobody will remember your name. Tell me, Edge, what is it you have that nobody else here has? Do you have a flashy move, NO! Your move consist of of charging at your opponent just like someone I knew from that Barbwire City I was once in. Do you have a fast car, Edge; do you have an expensive car that makes you feel like a real man? Do you have a stale, artificial, new age ‘bad boy’ image when you step into the ring, an image you shed when you walk behind the curtain and go home to your family? Congratulations, Edge, you are average. You have nothing that anybody else does not have. You and those people who chant and cheer your name, Edge, you’re like peas in a very ordinary pod. I, on the other hand, am different. When I speak to these people, it is me talking. I live my life and I live everything I say on screen. I don’t finish wrestling and drive home in a sports car to a beautiful home, a beautiful wife, and beautiful children, I live the pain and suffering that is my existence every second of every day, and that is what elevates me above you. Pain has been more of a father to me than my own excuse for a parent ever was. The pain has been with me constantly as I’ve grown up; it has been by my side through school, the beatings at home, and my adult life. I’m different to you, and it is that difference that will elevate me above you in that Unknown Match. What is the WWE X trying to make me feel scared of you Edge? Now that its an Unknown Match, Im not afraid of you Edge and Im not afraif of pain. My tolerance for pain is much higher than yours, Edge, the plain and simple fact, that I live pain every second. I am a man of constant sorrow, of constant pain, and what are you, Edge? You’re a flash in the pan, a fad, like everyone else. I will still be wrestling long after you’ve taken your ball and gone home, Edge, my name will be sung and revered in the annals of wrestling history long after time has forgotten you ever existed. Why should history remember you? What have you accomplished? All that sets you apart from the masses, Edge, I applaud you, Because to me Edge your just another canadian wannabe of Bret Hart, Another Breat Hart wannabe. "

*Raven laughs for a moment, closes his book, and tosses it to the floor, where it lands with a dull thud and raises a white cloud of dust*

Raven: " You want so hard to fit in, don’t you? You want so badly for these mindless, brainless automatons in the crowd to cheer your name, don’t you Edge? Isn’t the question you ask yourself, Edge, the same question I always heard in the back of my mind while growing up? Don’t you want to fit in with them? If it is, Show, the answer is no. I refuse to be a shallow sellout like those others. I am beyond that. Are you beyond that, Edge? I’m not so sure. Come Raw, we shall see just who and what you are, and whether you can measure up to the shining light that is Raven. Come Raw, your world and the worlds of eight other pathetic, ungrateful men come tumbling down, dismantled by the Raven Effect. My masterpiece is close at hand, can you feel it? The pieces of the jigsaw puzzle are slowly falling into place, and my ascension to a level beyond that which you can dream is near. The first step of my great succes is Raw, and I will outlast this Unknown Match, this character of a match that will be laid out before us From there, who knows? Who knows what the next steps will be? Only the Raven Effect truly knows, and the path will not be shown until I come out of Raw. My time is at hand; your time is fading away. Your brush with greatness is over; your fifteen minutes of fame are up, all of you. When you all fall, the earth will die, the sun will set, and the moon will shine, and the only image left in your mind will be the Raven’s shadow scorched into your eyes. Do you feel it yet? The time is near for the revolution of the damned, with the Raven as their general, leading them into battle to take back the world from the society that cast them out of it. The lines are drawn; Raw is where the first shots are fired between me and you Edge. As I overcome this Uknownn Match the bells of war will ring and the battle cries will slice through the air. The time is coming when the whole world will be my own personal playground, and you will all feel tenfold what I felt everyday as a child, you will all take a walk through Raven’s Clockwork Orange House of Fun. At Raw, the revolution begins and I will be the last… man… standing. So it is written and so it shall come to pass. Quoth the Raven – Nevermore. "

*Raven smiles evilly at the camera, and closes his eyes. He hangs his head, allowing his untidy hair to fall over his face and hide it from view. The camera pans down to the book, nestled in a frame of dust on the floor, and then fades out. At Raw, the revolution will begin, and Raven will be at the forefront of the fighting, leading his ‘damned’ into battle, as he goes forth in this epic battle in an unknown match-up. One thing is for sure, you’re not going to want to miss the WWEX Raw on August 11th*

Pathetic Victims : None So Far ||

Handler Information || E-Mail : skittles2k8@hotmail.com || AIM : None