Storming Raven w/Tim Patrick vs Ace Static

Subject: Storming Raven w/Tim Patrick vs Ace Static Thu Mar 28, 2013 9:56 pm

THAT TOMORROW NEVER COMES

Guest

We Are Unstoppable
We Are Unbreakable

[[Play time, were sitting here at a elementary school. These kids are no older then 5-6; theyre at the point where clothing doesn’t matter. Hell most of these kids stick pick their nose and dig at their butts that are poorly whipped. Back to the point were at the playground, obviously it’s recess there four kids stand. The one is a little butterball of a kid, whose fat gut hangs out of his stained t-shirt he looks around at the three other tiny kids.]]

{ButterBall}: Ok, this is what we’re going to play. We’re going to be Cowboys… and Sal you’ll be the Indian ok! Cool! LETS GO!!

[[The kids ran off holding imaginary guns and left me standing there. I didn’t want to be the Indian. Being the Indian in this game sucks. You lose. EVERYONE KNOWS THE INDIAN LOSES. Sure, you get to carry a tomahawk and scalp people but realistically is a fucking bow and arrow going to win in a match with colt 45 or a Smith and Wesson? No. So the kids teams up and shot me.. PEW PEW.. Down I went I died…

The Indian always loses..]]

Quote :: “In the trail of tears, there is NO ESCAPE. A twenty foot high steel cage, wrapped in barbed wire and broken glass. The door is welded shut. Inside the cage the most deadly weapons known to man are hanging inside. Pin fall, submission, or the opponent completely incapacitated is the only way to win.”

Storming Rave do you think this scares me? I walk through the depths of hell and beat the devil himself. I don’t care if we wrestle on thumb tacks. I don’t care if it’s shards of glass.. It doesn’t matter.

ACE STATIC KNOWS PAIN!

Spending years in San Quentin State Prison. Is worse then walking into this match up facing you. I’m not scared of the Cherokee nation, I’m not scared of you. After I dismantle you.. THE IWF WILL BE PUT ON NOTICE!!

YOU LIFE.. IS GOOD AS OVER!

Love,
Ace Static

[[Laredo, Texas

Who the fuck comes here? What am I trying to buy some cartons of cheap cigarettes?

A cool breeze, a chilled mist. Masking all of natures wist. The “pale moon” hangs high in the sky, not a cloud in sight, this sight could be one of Bob Ross’ paintings except there is no happy trees here. Nothing but depression and tears.. The soil moistened from all the heartache these people have had to go through. With all the money from all crooked Indian casinos aside; depression overtakes us. A single tear rolls down our cheek; like the Indian from those liter commercials, In the ground, a circle made. For the farmers and their charade.

In the mid there stood a pole. Full of very intriguing wooden carvings. A totem pole. These poles are very important inside of the Native American community. They represent clan lineage, notable events celebrating cultural belief and recognizing legends; this one stands tall and glorious. Very detailed, with wooden carvings and various paints.

Right behind a fire bowl, around the pit, surrounding is stones. Some rest on the ground eerily we all know what lays beneath them. It’s a make shift cemetery obviously belonging to the clan that calls this reservation home. Flames flickered on blackened wood, Silently, a lone man stood, whoever could it be??

Reds, Blues and oranges colored his face, he looks to the ground as a huge Indian head dress sits propped upon the top of his head… Taking him in…. ITS ME!! It’s Ace fucking Static. I stand there, shirtless covered in war paint, skinny jeans and my converse chucks topping off this fashion statement. Letting out a huge sigh, I stand there looking down; a cold heartless, soul-less grimace across my face. The smoke fills this sacred place. The air is quiet.

That is until, I speak. My voice is cold and eerie. Keeping it very monotone. I continue to look down; speaking my mind… ]]

“I feel the pain…
All their hearts full of sadness
Everyone of their eyes full of tears
Their feet full of hurt..
Bodies full of pain..
I FEEL IT!!”

[[Believing in what I say I continue, paying my respect to all these prisoners of fate. Never looking at the camera I continue. My muscles in my body clench as if I was some sort of roided out animal. Thirsty for revenge. ]]

“The spirits are restless..

I would be too, It’s sad..

Sad…

SAD

These poor helpless Native Americans where arrested and dragged from their home at gun point loaded up like fucking livestock. This was a death sentence, these hopeless Cherokee Warriors died as many as 20 in one night due to the horrific conditions.

No Fire

No Food

No Shelter

NO HOPE.

IT WAS THE TRAIL OF TEARS”

[[Continuing to keep my attention at the ground, I reach behind me pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Carefully picking the lucky winner, I grab one and place it, in between my lips. Grabbing my zippo; with one hand I open, and light the lighter, slowly placing the flame to my cigarette… it blazes to life as I take a deep drag. Soaking in all the toxins as my body tingles. Nothing better then the sweet, sweet rush of nicotine. ]]

“AND DO I FUCKING CARE???”

[[Letting the smoke escape through my nostrils, almost as if I was some sort of insane bull seeing red. Did you guys honestly think, I was serious. I could care a less about any of this long nose, Reddun, motherfuckers? I look up towards the camera and my scowl turns into my cocky IDGAF smirk. Shaking my head, this stupid Indian Head Dress I stole from Stormy Raven makes it so much more cockier and wrong. Ace Static is such a asshole.]]

“Heres the Broken pages of the note book…

Erased letters of chances That I never took…

Unfamiliar places I aint looked.

The moral of this story isn’t about Pride, it isn’t about glory. It’s all about Pain.

PAIN…

Pain is something I can look at Storming Raven and know right from the bat he knows nothing about. He lives in this façade of wanting pity. To know pain you have be broken down to the bottom. Where there is nothing. Destroyed EVERYTHING AND TAKING HONOR. Storming only knows one thing, that is how to annoy the fuck out of someone on twitter and as life as a whole. There is only one thing he knows. Wanting attention… TWEET… TWEET… TWEET… TWEET… FUCKING TWEET! Storming Raven craves acceptance, and will kiss ANYONES ass to be liked.

It’s what he did when we officially introduced ourselves to him. The little Tomahawk Tosser tried to go out and rally the troops.

And just like everyone before, that’s where he went wrong. You don’t spit in the wind and that’s what he did. Not only did he disrespect me; he disrespected Axle Vengeance. I stumbled into his locker room on accident. He was a piece of shit, and he acted the way he did because Chief Diceroller didn’t do his fucking homework. He wanted to get all big and tough and what happened??

WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED!!

He got dismantled in front of his girlfriend. Beat into a pulp. The feeling, I got when I was butching his body like serial killer was a feeling that I have missed… SO LONG. This entire company doesn’t no shit when it revolves are HFF.

WE ARE NOT MESSING AROUND ANYMORE. WE ARE TAKING OVER.

Storming Raven will pay this week; and he wont pay in any of his filthy Indian casino money. He will pay in his blood. Hearing the screams of Lani, as I fucking rip him limb from limb painting the ring canvas with his blood will… well be more then enough to satisfy me.. And then Axle gets to do it all over again next week.

This is a war you will not win Storming. “

[[ Taking one last drag from my cigarette I flick it into the woods. Fuck Smokey the Bear, I could care a less if I burn this god damn place down. In fact that is a great idea. ]]

“The moment he laid his fingers on us; he started the war.

When the war comes, there will be…

Blood

Death

and suffering;

Despair will settle like a blanket across the entire IWF. Young men and women, barely out of childhood, will stand and fight. If they are lucky, they will survive to see their friends die in the mud. Or perhaps the ones dying are lucky. Because this is what it is, this week the warning shot.

I take pleasure in watching people, children, crying for their mothers. That they themselves will cry for their mothers arms. MAMMA NOOOO PLEASEEEE!! The battle field is not a place of gleaming medals and marching troops, but of humanity, stripped to its very roots.

Pure Survival Instinct

It’s a dog eat dog world. You can only rely on yourself.

WE ARE TAKING OVER

YOU CANT FUCK WITH…… US!!!

War is not honorable, and there is no pride in killing… but career by career we will kill. We will end so many, the halls will flood with ALL the blood we spill. We will Destroy Everything and Take Honor. WE’RE UNSTOPPABLE.”

[[Regaining my confidence is definitely what is needed, I begin to stroll around, the little grave yard here. I hop tombstone from tombstone because I could care a less. I have no respect. Stopping at one, I kneel down. Before me is a aged, weather beaten slate of rock. In front of the gravestone there is a white Cherokee rose. I pick it up, give it a sniff before I throw it to the side of me. Fuck flowers. Running my hands over the grave stone like I was fucking Helen Keller reading brail. I feel it, I know whose fucking grave this is…

Giving the camera a wild grin, I speak openly.]]

“You know where I am??

Sure ya do???

Yep. I once heard a man say “If you fall off a horse, you just gotta pick yourself up, dust yourself off and get back on”… That man was a fucking dirt worshipper gave birth to someone that exceeded his stupidity and that is you, my friend. This is the “Cherokee burial grounds” you featherhead fuck.

WHERE AM I??

You know where I am, besides that fragile ego you have. I found your weakness. I found the thing that hits you harder then any physical attack on you or that bitch girlfriend of yours. You dad…. YOUR DADDDDDYYYY. What was Tontos name?? I’m sure he was a great buffalo soldier and a fantastic Bow Bender!! This is the man that put it in you that “WHITE MAN BAD; RED MAN GOOD!?”

This is what I think of him…”

[[With no hesitation, placing my index finger on my nostril; I shoot a snot rocket onto the grave… The other nostril follows and I finish it off by spitting upon it. I don’t care who the fuck is 6 feet below me. Let the great power of Jon Redcorn from king of the hill strike me down!! I DON’T GIVE A FUCK! If I honestly cared enough I would dig up his bones; pack them in my bag, bring them to the “Trail of Tears” stab Storming Raven with them over and over.. Filling him with so many holes he cant be stitched shut. But I don’t. Pulling the camera closer. ]]

“ WHITE MAN BAD… That’s funny because look where you are.

Working for the biggest wrestling company in the world. A multibillion dollar company ran by a bunch of white business suits.

WHITE MAN BAD RED MAN GOOD!?!?

Right?

You’re living the life of the white man, you’re not living in a teepee. You’re not rubbing two sticks together as fast as you can to spark some flames to catch some brush on fire. You’re NOT crying about how Uncle Sam stole all my peoples land… Because you’re right there.

You are what you hate. Your first match here, you said you loathe people that have it all And obviously, you’re not shopping at discount dollar if you’re working here. You live a joke. Constantly fighting for that skank you call a girlfriend “MY SPIRIT IS ALWAYS WITH YOU MY ROSE”

STAND UP AND BE A MAN!

You have a hard life, of selling cheap cigarettes, cheap fireworks and hard work shuffling those decks of cards in your air conditioned casinos.. Taking in all those elderly white folks money every time the senior buses pull up to the reservation.

Ching Ching.

Stealing money, and playing up this whole bullshit façade. It’s time I take what is ours! FOR TO LONG HAVE YOU AND YOUR PEOPLE PLAYED THIS SYMPATHY CARD! YOU WANT SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT??? THIS IS MORE THEN A CANDY WRAPPER GETTING THROWN ON THE GROUND!”

[[The camera widens as we pull out, not talking about Lani because I would leave one in her. I would deflower, Storming Raven’s Cherokee rose. As the whole shot comes into view there we see, two black mustangs. Leaning up against one of the Mustangs is Axle Vengeance and the other is Damien Drake. Hollywood’s fucking Finest. There I stand in the center of this burial ground. Next to Axle and Damien are the carcasses of some Tipi Toms. Bound hand and feet with duct tape with Apples propped in their mouths like they were swines. All wince and wiggle in pain as I survey the area.

Ace Static is NOT right. I’m not.

Grabbing my zippo out of my back pocket I begin to flick it on and off. Still pacing around like some sort of blood thirsty animal. ]]

”THIS WAR YOU WILL NOT WIN!!”

[[Looking up at this huge Totem pole. A smile crosses my face.]]

” It hasn’t rained in sometime.. The ground is dry.. Much like California; Theyre advising people to watch out for Forrest Fires. To bad I don’t see Smokey the Bear here to stop me… Storming I want you to watch this; this is your chance to run away. The feeling youre about to get wont even compare to the beating I put down on you!”

[[The flame on my lighter flickers with malicious intent as I hold it to the totem pole. All the grease paint instantly catch. As the flames climb to the top I smile. Holding my hands out in a perpendicular pose. Dropping the lighter to the ground. The grass instantly catches; the flames crawl quickly reproducing around all the graves.. With my back to the camera]]

”I lied, the grounds have been watered by a few cans of gasoline.

I figured I warm you up Storming Raven; get you up to speed on who exactly ACE STATIC is. “

[[I cackle loudly as the totem pole collapses the same way the twin towers did on 9/11. Just like the devil himself; flames surround me. ]]

xEnDx

Subject: Re: Storming Raven w/Tim Patrick vs Ace Static Sun Mar 31, 2013 5:12 pm

Prologue: Before the flight to Japan.

I stand in a forgotten graveyard in my hometown of Laredo, Texas, in front of the graves of my father and cousin. Fourteen years ago I made a promise to my father, on his death bed to bring honor back to my people. A promise I intend to keep, or die trying. All around me I feel the presence of my ancestors. It courses through my veins. I close my eyes and take a deep cleansing breath, as a gentle breeze blows through the desolate place. My father deserved so much better. I sit down in front of the tombstones “Indian” style.

“Father. I swear I have not forgotten my promise. I will bring pride and honor back to our people. My path gets harder each day, but I won't give up. I know people still look down upon me. I've been with IWF for a year, and I haven't had a title shot. It's been years since I've held a title. I know I am better than this. Do not worry your son will soon hold gold again. It's funny when you think about it, the trail of tears began over gold, and now I am chasing the very same thing that brought our people so much pain.”

I look to the sky. The sun peaks out from behind a gray cloud. I smile. Every cloud has a silver lining they say.

“After all these years, I'm still walking the trail of tears. I will retrieve your head dress. These pale faces will pay for their sins...”

I stand and put my hand on my father's head stone, close my eyes and send a silent prayer to the great spirit for the strength to smite my enemies...

Chapter one: Dreams aren't always in black and white.

Every night it's the same dream. It's some time in the eighteen hundreds. My people are all around me. They are all happy, going about their usual business. The children are running around playing, the women busy making jewelry, the elder women telling stories to the children old enough to sit still. It is a beautiful day, the sun is shining, but it's not too hot. A nice breeze blows, like the great spirit caressing our faces.

There is a conclave going on between my people, and the US Cavalry in a big army tent, under the white flag of peace. The breeze becomes heavier, as out of nowhere storm clouds roll through the sky. A deafening gun shot is heard from the near by tent shattering the serenity of the peaceful people.

I see myself running toward the tent, as I explode through the tent flap, I see the US Cavalry standing over the lifeless bodies of our chief and elders of highest regard. They are cutting off the heads of my people. I notice one is wearing the head dress of the chief and making a mockery of our ways. The Cavalry pushes past me, they must think I'm not worth their time. As the man in the head dress passes, I see he looks like one Ace Static...

I stand in complete and utter shock, frozen in place. I shake it off and run outside. My people are dead or dying all around me. The Cavalry made quick work with their bayonets. The copper smell of blood fills my nostrils. I hear a nearby cry and notice to small children covered in blood. I gather them up and run for the nearby woods.

Out of nowhere, the man who stole the head dress appears from behind a tree, with a rifle in hand. I hear the shot, and see the white puff of smoke from the rifle. I feel the bullet pierce my skin and go deep in my chest....

I awaken from the nightmare, screaming in a cold sweat. At first, I'm not sure where I am. Then I remember, the Tokyo dome hotel. I hate waking up in a new place. The sliding glass door of the hotel balcony is open. The wind outside howls like the mourning souls of the damned. The curtains flap in the breeze like the welcoming arms of death.

I gently move the covers back, and place my bare feet on the cold hard floor. I tip toe as quiet as a shadow to the balcony, so as not to wake Leilani. I sit on a lounge chair on the balcony in my boxer briefs, and look out at the bright neon light of the Tokyo night. I gently sigh with relief as I take a cigarette from the pack of Pall Mall reds I left on the near by table, light it with the silver zippo and take a long drawl. I exhale slowly releasing a prayer to my ancestors, asking for guidance and contemplating the dream.

I hear the soft foot steps of Lani behind me. She is wearing a see through white teddy. She comes up behind me, and starts to rub my neck.

“Nice night.” She whispers, her soft lips gently brushing my ear.

I nod with a grunt.

“Mhm” I gently take her hand kiss it.

“The nightmare again?” She asks as she runs her fingers through my hair.
I shudder as my eyes close, and nod in agreement.

“Same nightmare for the past three days. I think it's a sign. A sign of what I don't know. The gods will let me know in time. Maybe it's punishment for not winning at Ascension. I just...don't know anymore, darlin.”

She comes around to sit on my lap. She kisses me and I can feel the love and passion emanating from her very being.

“Everything will work out, my beautiful Cherokee warrior. We're in Japan, where wrestling is still a sport. They love you here. You will be back on the right track this week. I know it, and soon the world will too.”

I gently stroke her cheek, where the bruise from those fucking cowards, Ace Static and Axle Vengeance hit her.

“They shall pay for this bruise, ten fold. They are in for a world of pain unlike they have ever known.”

A sound like thunder is heard, as we look out in the distance. For some unknown reason people are setting off fire works. I chuckle at the deafening sounds of the explosions,that rattle the sliding glass door.

“I think they know we've arrived.”

Chapter two: The land of the rising sun.

Japan is such a strange place to me. Animated porn, with women being raped by tentacles, or women magically growing male genitalia. Everything is either, cute, or sexual. Sometimes strangely both. Being a Cherokee I stick out like a sore thumb. It's not all bad, though. At least there are still two of my favorite things in Japan, arcades and the SPORT of wrestling. I don't understand the language at all, but pain is a universal language.

I am in an the Taito HEY arcade in Tokyo, promote the first ever IWF Arcade game. It's a good thing I'm not epileptic, because the flashing lights would cause a seizure for sure. The sounds of the various games give me a splitting headache. My interpreter is by my side as I watch everyone playing the game. I seem to be the favorite to play, and they love playing my match, the trail of tears death match. The Japanese are crazy for violence. I watch as one twelve year old kid plays the upcoming match for Battle grounds. Ace Static vs myself. I smile at how well the game captures the level of violence of the match. Finally my interpreter, Mr. Miyoto taps my shoulder and points to the black and red podium with the IWF logo on it. It's time for my speech. I step to the podium and a blinding spot light shines upon me. I look at the crowd waiting, and begin to speak my hands on either side of the podium.

“Hello, and thank you all for coming to this monumental event. I have done a lot of things in my career. I've put my body through more than any man should, both in and out of the ring, but this is the first time ever, that I have been a playable character in a video game. That is just one more honor to add to my list. It is all a little overwhelming if I'm completely honest.”

Mr. Miyoto translates for those who don't speak English. I wait until he finishes to continue.

“Speaking of honor, recently I have run across the most vile disrespectful, people I have met in my entire life. They have honor or dignity. This Monday, you will see a level of violence no video game can imitate. When I step into the trail of tears against one Ace Static. He will learn just why I am the most violent man in IWF, and the Pride of the Cherokee Nation.”

Again I wait for Mr. Miyoto to translate.

“The man is so vile and disrespectful, that the original trail of tears match stipulation wouldn't be quite good enough. Therefore I have added a new tweak to the match that you all will find quite extreme. Now I must go attend to the matters of this new tweak. It has been a pleasure meeting all of you. I hope to see all of you Monday night at the Tokyo dome. May the great spirit bless you.”

Mr. Miyoto translates as I step down from the podium, shake fans hands and sign autographs.

Chapter 3: Crime and Punishment.

I am standing in the middle of the ring at the tokyo dome. The camera man stands waiting for the signal. I have chosen to wear my war paint, black and white in the fashion of a skull. Everything that has happened in my life runs through my mind, like someone rapidly flipping the pages of a large book. I take a deep cleansing breath and close my eyes. I signal the camera man to begin rolling. For this occasion I have chosen a sepia toned filter. In the background the instrumental of an old cowboy song “The Streets of Laredo” plays. The Camera is zoomed into my face as I begin to speak.

“Ass Static, you and your friend have made the biggest mistake of your lives. I hope you got your laughs while you could. Remember all those tweets? I'm sure you do, the ones where you mention the trail of tears? Just like that moronic politician, Bruce Braley comparing the trail of tears to a loss in a basketball game, you know not of what you speak. Four thousand innocent people died on that trail... ”

The camera slowly pans away from my face, as a wicked smile slowly spreads over my lips. It reveals that I am standing in the ring, surrounded by a twenty foot tall steel cage. The cage is wrapped in barbed wire and broken glass. A vast array of weapons hangs inside: chairs, tables, sheets of glass, lighter fluid, a bat also wrapped in barbed wire and broken glass, a two by four with nails in it, and a staple gun, just to name a few. My body is also wrapped in barbed wire. My fists are taped with broken glass glued on.

“Welcome, Ass Static....to MY trail of tears. I'm sure you thought, this guy is a rookie he'll be an easy win. He has no friends. You of course are wrong on all accounts.”

I grab the cage tightly, and blood pours from my hand.

“Not only am I an eight year veteran but you see I've made a friend. A friend who has just as much disdain for you, and the crumbling Empire as I do, “THE IRISH CAR BOMB” TIM PATRICK! You were so stupid to trespass in my locker room. Even more stupid of you and your friend to double team me. What's worse you put your filth depraved hands on my Fiance Leilani. To top it off you stole my father's head dress.”

I take deep rasping breaths, showing that I am on the very edge of sanity.

“What you can see is just the tip of the ice berg. This cage is electrified on three sides, and as you decided to disrespect me so bad, I had to add one more little tweak.”

I snap my fingers and the fourth wall of the cage becomes engulfed in flame. The unforgiving flames illuminate my face, giving it a demonic look.

“The rules of the match are simple, anything goes. Pinfall or submission inside this cage....However if one of us decides to climb the cage, the other must follow or forfeit the match. I then becomes last man standing. Come Monday night, you WILL respect me. You will remember every disrespectful mocking thing, you have said or done. I don't even have to see your interview, I know all you will do is say the most easy stereotypical, racist things possible. Make your jokes while you can. Monday night I will show you that I am NO JOKE. I am going to knock those sharpie marks you call tattoos clean off your body. I am going to strip the flesh from your bones. I will bathe in your blood! This match..It changes you...It will devour your very soul. You will learn the pain of the Cherokee. You will learn when to keep your mouth shut, about things you don't understand, because you know NOTHING.”

I pause and lick the blood from my hands.

“No more Mister nice “Injun”. You can not run or hide from the Pride of the Cherokee Nation. I am the ultimate hunter. I am the most violent man in IWF! You are nothing more than what is wrong with what was once a great country. You are nothing more but my prey. Once my people were called savages, and you are about to see just how savage I can be!”
The heat from the fire causes me to sweat, and I wipe it off my brow with my hand, and flick it toward the camera.

“You seem to be something of a legend around here. Usually it saddens me when a legend is stripped of their pride, but you have none to begin with. Do not worry though, Ass. I am sure when the match is over, and you get out of the Intensive Care Unit, living on pain killers for the rest of your miserable life, I am sure you can get a job at Hot Topic. Let's see how you do when your little friend can't help you....”

I smile as the camera man switches the filter to it's natural color. The sound of thunder is heard, and a strange red rain, that can only be blood begins to fall. I tilt my head back and shout an ear splitting war cry.

“You are just one more scalp on my belt. When I am done, you will lie broken and forgotten. Just a ghost of what might have been. Don't say I didn't warn you. Just remember, you brought all of this upon yourself. Had you not trespassed upon my turf like the ignorant pale face that you are, you might have gone on living. You made one fatal slip, when you put yourself on the Pride of the Cherokee Nation's hit list. On Monday, April first, April fool's day, you will become the biggest fool of all when you try to step into my turf.Your end is near, while my time is just beginning! Wakan Tanka Wasaka Maku Wo! (Great Spirit give me strength.)”

Chapter 4: Phone conversation with the Irish Car Bomb

With twenty four hours to go until Battle grounds, I decide to put in a call to a good friend and mep e sure we're set.

"Hey man, how's it going? Do you think my little fire wall was a bit much to add?"

Tim Patrick: Doing well. I'm at the hotel, got in a few hours ago. The fire wall is perfect. This is Japan, they're used to Explosion matches and insane hardcore stuff. All I have to do is make sure other Empire idiots don't get involved. I'm leaving the responsibility of kicking Ace's ass with you.

"Indeed. He picked the wrong person to single out. He's been out of the loop for a while apparently. He should ask Khaos or JC Stylez what I can do...Oh yea, he can't."

Tim Patrick: He should watch our match at Bloody Sunday 2 from Paris. That was the most violent and chaotic thing IWF has ever seen. Also man, I'm helping you out here because I respect you and I think you can add something to this alliance Figgins and I have. We're not a tag team, so if you want to go after Axle and Ace, do it in singles matches like this and I'll have your back.

"I plan on it. There is no Empire anymore to save them. I think it will be worse for Axle Vagina, because he'll know what he's getting into. Ass Static has no fucking idea"

Tim Patrick: DO NOT take Ace or Axle lightly. Together, they're the best tag team I've ever seen. I imagine they're pretty fucking great alone, too. You're going to have to get your mind right for this.

"Oh, Believe me. I am not taking them lightly. I never do take an opponent lightly. It's them taking me lightly that will be their down fall. They can not run. They Can not hide behind their keyboards on twitter. When I step into the trail of tears, I become a very different man. I won't be the typical fun loving Cherokee people are used to."

Tim Patrick: They're cocky, but they have reason to be that way. They've beaten everyone in this business. Like I said in that bar in Houston, I hope they woke you up. You need to send a message tomorrow night!

"Indeed it did. I've never felt so awake. I am tired of everyone underestimating me. I've been with this company for over a year. It's time people take notice. Hollywood's fucking finest called down the thunder, and now they're gonna get it. I'm coming and HELL is coming with me!"

Tim Patrick: Sometimes it takes great anger to awaken full potential. I don't know what you want to get out of this. Whether you just want to hurt them and send a message or you want to get the 1-2-3...you have to be ready for the fight of your life.

"Brother I was BORN ready. I've been fighting damn near all my life in one way or another. They are going to learn that THIS Cherokee is nobody's victim!"

Tim Patrick: I'm gonna get going. I'll see you tomorrow night, mo chara. Tiocfaidh ár lá!

"May the Great Spirit bless you, brother."

» Storming Raven [vs] Tim Patrick
» Parker Wayde [vs.] Storming Raven [vs.] Alexander Raven
» Khaos [vs] Storming Raven
» Alexander Raven [vs.] Ace Static
» Storming Raven [vs] JC Styles