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Date Posted: 10:46:52 03/12/03 Wed
Author: Brian Thorn
Subject: My Retort

[The Ultimate Model of Perfection, Brian Thorn, sits at the desk in his study, looking over manilla folders. These folders contain information on the professional wrestlers that he will be facing and beating at the Iron Man tournament, specifically Lee Todd, Sin, and Gabriel Blade. Gabriel Blade, that name strikes at the devastatingly perfect man behind the desk. Gabriel Blade, his words recently were very strong, and a lot of these words were focused on the Ultimate Model of Perfection. Gabriel Blade, who's injury history is now being scanned over with a fine-toothed comb by Brian Thorn. Thorn processes the information in his head, and then sees something that strikes him. He leans back in his chair, grinning ear to ear.]

THORN: Gabriel Blade, you claim that my statements and lectures of my perfection are some sort of delusion. Now, I can accept that someone would believe that I'm not what I claim to be. I understand when people deny the truth and warp their own minds to believe and perceive only what they want to. This has happened for most of my life, and I've learned to deal with the pain that it causes me deep inside when people look me straight in the eye, and tell me that I am not perfect. How could they? Perfection is infathomable, unbelievable, indescribable, and beyond human comprehension. Most human comprehension. And, since I am Simply Perfect, I would as well be infathomable, unbelievable, indescribable, and beyond human comprehension. Sure, someone could label me as that brown eyed, brown haired, impeccably dressed, young, handsome, stud of a man. I could also be described as that overly intelligent man with more charisma and comprehension of all types of knowledge than anybody else. I'm not saying these wouldn't be true, but these are models that people use to define who I am. However, the models lack the fact that I am Simply Perfect, that I am the Ultimate Model of Perfection.

[Thorn looks back over the section of Gabe's file that interested him, and once again a smirk appears. He nearly lets out a laugh, but holds it in, looking back at the camera.]

THORN: Other than this injury file, there is something I find very humorous about you, Gabe. You seem to think that I don't deserve to be in the UWS with you. You also claim that other wrestlers, including Lee Todd, don't deserve to be in the UWS with you. And you call me vain? Look at thy own ass first, Gabe, you're the vainest this company has to offer. In your delusional head we're all beneath you, just because we might be different. In your little paradise, it would be just you with no competition at all, just that strap around your waist or over your shoulder, or however you want to carry it. We're all nothing to you, are we Gabe? We shouldn't be in the same fed as you, should we Gabe? In your mind no, in your mind you're better than all of us, in your mind you're the only one who deserves to be wrestling at all. And why? Because I'm perfect and want people to know it? Because Sin is a psychopath? Because Lee Todd is a punk? Oh, sure, we must be lower on the social scale then you, we must be worse off than you, because you Gabriel Blade, are the Sentinel. Well whoopdy-doo! I'm perfect, just as I claim to be. Lee Todd is a punk, Sin is a psychopath, the rest of the fed is complete trash, but at least they want competition. At least I want competition. Being the only one at my level is boring, and I just wait for that moment that someone can truly put me to the test. I'm still waiting, Gabe. I don't think you'll ever accomplish that goal, because you want to be given the title. You want it handed to you so that you can say it's yours, and then never work to retain it. Now that is Vain.

[Thorn leans back in his chair to think, but all the sudden an idea pops into his head.]

THORN: Heh, if you just want to be handed everything and not have to work for it, why don't you go to the FHW? Seriously, call yourself Crusader or Archangel, do nothing at all, or nothing of importance, but keep the title week in and week out. From what I've seen that's what happens over there, the good old boys. I've never been a part of that place, and I never wish to be. But you, you seem to have their attitude. Go on, Gabe, go sit all cozy, not having any competition to worry about. Go on, go. We won't miss you for long.

[Thorn leans back in his chair again, having moved up throughout his last statement. He backtracks his brain and smirks at the manilla folder one last time.]

THORN: Maybe, Gabe, you should think about what you say before you say it. It would benefit you to do so. Ask yourself why so many people here would be willing to rip your spine out of your body? Curtis Slamm sees the title of Sentinel on you, and he thinks that to reclaim what he's lost he needs to take you out. Granted, he only thinks this because he knows he can't step toe-to-toe with me, but that's a goal of his none the less. Shane Brandon wants to win this thing to prove that he's still the Iron Man, to get that belt that you so desire. Trust me, I'm sure he'd go to most lenghts to see you defeated. Sin wants to use you, to warp you into thinking like him. And if you don't conform, I'm sure he'll tear you apart. Lee Todd, well we all know what he's about. And me, I'd tear you apart like nobodies business if I felt the urge. But Sentinel, you've got to ask yourself why this is... it's because you stick your nose into other peoples business. You think Lee Todd or Shane Brandon give a damn what you think of them, and what they do. Do you really think that Curtis Slamm wants you to interfere in his business? But you do, and you've got a lot of enemies. Which will be your downfall, Sentinel.

[Thorn closes the file in front of him and then places it into a drawer of his. He locks it up and then stands to leave, walking straight to the door. The scene fades out as the door shuts.]

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