Post by jaythunder1 on Feb 11, 2013 12:07:15 GMT -5
“I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.” - Albert Einstein
...
February 7th, 2013
Atlanta, Georgia
8:02 AM
!BZZT-BZZT-BZZT!
[The scene opens up with the all-too-familiar sound of an alarm clock buzzing, an attempt to awake whoever set it. The annoying noise is soon followed by a low-pitched grunting noise, which, too, is followed by the sound of blankets rustling. The camera pans from the window, where the blinds are sitting half-open, giving a decent view of the city, to the alarm clock. The number now reads “8:03 AM,” and the camera now pans to the bed, where Jay Thunder is tossing the silk blanket off from over his head. He grunts, slowly parting his heavy eyelids to look around.]
Jay Thunder : Gaaaah! Who in the fuck set my alarm for eight o'clock?
[Jay looks towards the door, half-expecting someone to come through the door and admit to their fault. When nobody does, he grunts once more.]
Jay Thunder : Fuck this... I'm going back to bed...
[As he lays his head back down, closing his eyes, the camera cuts to the outside of the bus. The picture is fixed on the tire closest to Jay's window, where a figure wearing black Reebok sneakers and black jeans walks towards said window. The shadow of a tire iron can be seen against the bus exterior, as the figure walks slowly, inching ever closer to the window. The camera cuts back inside, where Jay is laying his head down, eyes closed. The camera backs away from the bed, to where Jay's face and the window are in the same picture. Light footsteps can be heard for a few more seconds, then they stop outside of the window. The camera cuts to a direct view of the window, where a cold smirk can be seen against a shaded face, hoodie concealing the identity of the person.]
Jonathan Holland : Hey Jay! You awake?
[Jonathan Holland can be heard walking towards the door to Jay's room, when the tire iron is raised to the window, tapping three times lightly. Jay hears the noise, and grunts yet again.]
Jay Thunder : Don't gotta fuckin' knock, John! Just come in!
[The door opens, a confused look on Jonathan's face as he walks in, looking around.]
Jonathan Holland : But... I didn't knock?
Jay Thunder : Then what the fuck was that noise...?
[Jay looks at Jonathan for a few seconds, but the questioning silence is broken by the sound of familiar laughter outside; sick, twisted and sadistic laughter. Jay darts up towards the window, looking out in every direction. He finally spots the person across the street, walking around a corner. Jay notices the tire iron, barely getting a glimpse of it, and his eyes go wide.]
Jay Thunder : Syn...
Jonathan Holland : Huh?
Jay Thunder : Syn. The motherfucker found me, again...
Jonathan Holland : Should I alert the authorities?
[The suggestion angers Jay, and he turns to his driver, scowling him.]
Jay Thunder : Do you REALLY think the fucking police will be able to stop that fucking maniac!?
Jonathan Holland : Well, I just thought...
Jay Thunder : That's the fucking problem, Jonathan! You're paid to drive this bus, not think!
Jonathan Holland : Look, dude, I'm sorry...
Jay Thunder : I am too... God, you're an idiot. John, just go.
Jonathan Holland : Okay...
[Jonathan lowers his head, sadly. Jay lays down on the bed, hands on his forehead, staring towards the ceiling. The anger and rage slowly subside as he calms down, before he realizes what he had done.]
Jay Thunder : Shit... Did I just cuss out my best friend...?
[He slides so he's sitting on the edge of the bed, his frown even deeper. After a few minutes of silent thinking, he stands up. He slips on a pair of jeans over his boxers, and a button-up t-shirt to top it all of. Ignoring the buttons, he walks to the front of the bus where Jonathan sits, face covered by his hands.]
Jay Thunder : Hey, John, dude... You alright?
[Jonathan looks up at Jay, close to tears.]
Jay Thunder : Look man, I'm sorry for yelling at you like that. It was uncalled for. Just... I don't appreciate that Syn guy stalking me, and it's got me on edge.
[Jay sits across from him.]
Jonathan Holland : Ya' know, it ain't right taking that shit out on friends.
Jay Thunder : I know, I know... It's just tough, man. You don't know what I've been going through.
Jonathan Holland : Let's just forget this shit happened, alright?
Jay Thunder : Deal.
[The two shake hands, and Jay smiles.]
Jay Thunder : So, where to next?
Jonathan Holland : I was thinkin' we could go see the sights.
Jay Thunder : Have fun with that.
[Jay grabs his hoodie, quickly throwing it on as he walks out of the door.]
Jonathan Holland : The hell you goin'?
Jay Thunder : To explore the hometown of my favorite team!
[Before Jonathan can reply, Jay's already ran down the street, in the direction of the Georgia Dome.]
Jonathan Holland : Oh dammit, Jay...
...
“Can't keep going on like this, they make me sick... And I get so sick of it...”
…
“War... War never changes...”
February 10th, 2013
Atlanta, Georgia
11:59 PM
[The second scene opens up, but almost as soon as it starts, it cuts off.]
: The following message is transmitted at the request of the United States Government. At 11:59 Eastern Standard Time, Civil Authorities detected that a nuclear attack had commenced against the United States. These attacks are thought to be, but are not restricted to, the following cities; Chicago, St. Louis, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Philadelphia, and Washington D.C.
[Soon, it's obvious the message is from the Emergency Alert System, warning of an imminent nuclear disaster. The message almost immediately sends the world into shock, as the camera shows video from several of the targeted cities. Riots breaking out, people scrambling to escape fate, and absolute anarchy. Crying families who haven't a chance to escape, knowing their death is soon to come. Others, calmly walking through the street, silently sulk and think over their lives thus far. The next shot shows the nuclear missiles, recognized as ICBMs or Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles, flying through the atmosphere. After a few more minutes, the ICBMs make impact. Mushroom clouds explode into the sky, causing shock and awe to all who can see them, as the screams of those evaporated and disintegrated in the explosions echo across the United States. The crying families and friends of the dead can be heard throughout the world, as the clouds of smoke and ash rise through the skies...]
((The following is inspired by the Fallout series. There are references to the series. I claim no ownership, as Fallout is the work of Bethesda Softworks. I, in no way, own it. Thank you.))
--- TWO YEARS LATER ---
Jay-Hawk : C'mon, boy.
[The second bit of scene two comes into view soon, showing Jay Thunder, now known simply as Jay-Hawk, walking down a deserted street. Beside him, his German shepherd companion, Dog. Looking around at the frames of what was once homes to several families, he shakes his head.]
Jay-Hawk : Two years and I still haven't gotten over it... It's ridiculous, Dog. It really is...
[He sighs, before looking down at the whimpering Dog. Bending down to scratch his ear, he hears a gunshot.]
Jay-Hawk : What in the w-
[Before he can finish, he's interrupted by the hiss of a bullet flying over his head. Realizing that was blatantly aimed at his head, and knowing he'd be dead should he still have been standing, he rolls into cover.]
Jay-Hawk[whispering]: Alright, you prick... Wanna fight? Let's fight...
[Leaning up against a pile of rubble, Jay throws his bag in front of him.]
Jay-Hawk : Okay, Dog, we gotta get something worthy to take this cunt out... .22LR? Nah, too small... 9mm? Nah... 5.56mm? Yeah, this works.
[With a smirk, he takes out his salvaged M4A1, loading the magazine into the rifle.]
Jay-Hawk[thinking to self]: Time to make some other poor bastard die for his “country...”
[He leans around the corner to spot out the guy, finding no trace of him until he stands up behind his own cover; a wall that is barely standing.]
Jay-Hawk[thinking to self]: All... Too... Easy...
[Licking his lips, tasting the blood of his opponent from here, he turns the corner quickly, firing a shot in his direction. The round travels through the wall, piercing the metallic armor, penetrating the battle-hardened skin of his adversary, and tearing through his heart like a sword slicing through Jell-o. Jay smirks as he hears a quick grunt, and then the 'THUD' of a dead-man falling.]
Jay-Hawk : Another job done well, Dog! Let's go collect our loot!
[He loads the gun back up, walking cautiously over to the fallen raider.]
Jay-Hawk[sarcastically]: Oh me-oh my! How did I NOT know it was a Raider?
[He laughs a bit, before tearing the armor off the man, along with his bag. He digs through it, finding nothing but a can of Pork'N'Beans, and a single room-temperature bottle of Nuka-Cola.]
Jay-Hawk : Oh look, it's dinner! And what is this...
[He digs deeper, finding a couple of magazines for his own guns, along with a can of dog food.]
Jay-Hawk : Dinner for the two of us, Dog. Good haul, wouldn't ya' say?
[The companion looks up at him, tongue out, and barks once.]
Jay-Hawk : I knew ya' would! Come on, let's find someplace safe to eat.
[The two continue on their journey after packing everything up, walking towards their hometown of Megaton. Upon arrival, Deputy Weld greets them with his prerecorded message.]
Deputy Weld : Greetings, Partner! Welcome... To... Megaton!
Jay-Hawk[thinking to self]: Shut up, you damned hunk of metal...
[Dog barks at the Protectron, as Jay walks through the giant rusted doors of Megaton. As they close behind him, he smiles.]
Jay-Hawk[thinking to self]: Good to be back home... First, nap... Then, trading.
[Jay walks down the large makeshift metal stairway, making a left turn to another makeshift staircase. Walking up, he looks out over the town, smiling. Moriarty's Saloon, Craterside Supply, and the illustrious undetonated atomic bomb laying at the bottom of it all. Opening the door to his home, he walks in to find...]
TO BE CONTINUED
…
-UNKNOWN LOCATION-
So Jones, this is your chance, huh? You, an absolutely arrogant, self-centered prick, getting a shot at my championship. Not just a normal match, no, but in what you call a Knockout Match? So you can “effectively rip my shoulder out of its socket?” Hah! You're pathetic, Jones. Ya' see, this is the one match you should have avoided at all costs. I enjoy pain, and I enjoy inflicting it on people even more. Whether that person is a friend, foe, or someone I couldn't care less about. You've shown your ass on more than one occasion, and now, I'm ready to kick it all around THE FUCKING ARENA!
Jones, I've despised you since you joined PCW! You claim I follow in your fucking footsteps? That's fucking PATHETIC! I follow in NOBODIE'S FOOTSTEPS! Even if I did, why would I follow in yours?! Because you're “so amazing” and “the greatest thing since sliced bread?” HELL NO! You're nothing but a sack of disgusting flesh, a waste of fucking space! The only thing you're good for is cleaning the fucking toilets in the backstage area, Smith!
So you know what?! This “Knockout Match” you had in mind, and the “Hashtag” Broadcast Championship you want so Goddamn much!? How about I do this; I'll take your fucking head in my hands, twist until your spine looks like a fucking strand of DNA, then what will I do?! I'll pull the fucking bone out of your FUCKING MOUTH! I'LL FORCEFEED YOU YOUR OWN FUCKING SPINE IN FRAGMENTS! I'm SICK of your shit, Smith! The only thing I want to do in this match?! FUCKING KILL YOU! I want to END YOU! End YOU, end your CAREER, end EVERYTHING YOU LIVE FOR!
YOU'VE CROSSED THE FUCKING LINE, SMITH!
Okay, you gave me your worthless opinion about me, my championship, and my championship reign. You made claims such about me, claiming you've changed me, made me think. You CLAIM you respect me... Do I respect YOU? Hell no. You have done nothing to deserve it from me. NOTHING. I haven't gotten the fourth most wins in PCW on sheer luck, and I haven't won my three championships so far because I've paid someone, no, I've gotten this far because I've worked my ass off. I'm a far better champion than you may think, Jones. I'm willing to prove it, too.
Remember how you said you'd throw me over the top rope and break my femur, and jump up and down on it until I pass out? Jones, what I have to say about you is too fucking demonic to even put on the airwaves. But ya' know what? I'm going to say it, either way...
Jones, I want to rip your innards out one-by-one. I want to see them strewn all over the ring mat. I want to see your heart beating in my fucking hand, as I rip it from your chest. I want to see your intestines wrapped around your neck like a noose, hanging you inches from the ground. See your own spleen shoved in your mouth, as your stomach sits atop your head like a hat. And ya' know what?
I will do every bit of that. This IS a Knockout Match after all, ISN'T IT!?
I won't just knock you out, Smith Jones. I will put you on the proverbial shelves of wrestling for God-knows-how-long. You're nothing to me, you're nothing to PCW, hell, you're nothing COMPLETELY. You don't deserve to breathe, to stand on this planet, to stand amongst the greats of PCW. You're gonna get a huge reality check at Wrestle Extravaganza, Smith. It's on, you fuckin' cunt...
You've woken a demon, and you're gonna pay for it.
Thunder out, bitches...
...
February 7th, 2013
Atlanta, Georgia
8:02 AM
!BZZT-BZZT-BZZT!
[The scene opens up with the all-too-familiar sound of an alarm clock buzzing, an attempt to awake whoever set it. The annoying noise is soon followed by a low-pitched grunting noise, which, too, is followed by the sound of blankets rustling. The camera pans from the window, where the blinds are sitting half-open, giving a decent view of the city, to the alarm clock. The number now reads “8:03 AM,” and the camera now pans to the bed, where Jay Thunder is tossing the silk blanket off from over his head. He grunts, slowly parting his heavy eyelids to look around.]
Jay Thunder : Gaaaah! Who in the fuck set my alarm for eight o'clock?
[Jay looks towards the door, half-expecting someone to come through the door and admit to their fault. When nobody does, he grunts once more.]
Jay Thunder : Fuck this... I'm going back to bed...
[As he lays his head back down, closing his eyes, the camera cuts to the outside of the bus. The picture is fixed on the tire closest to Jay's window, where a figure wearing black Reebok sneakers and black jeans walks towards said window. The shadow of a tire iron can be seen against the bus exterior, as the figure walks slowly, inching ever closer to the window. The camera cuts back inside, where Jay is laying his head down, eyes closed. The camera backs away from the bed, to where Jay's face and the window are in the same picture. Light footsteps can be heard for a few more seconds, then they stop outside of the window. The camera cuts to a direct view of the window, where a cold smirk can be seen against a shaded face, hoodie concealing the identity of the person.]
Jonathan Holland : Hey Jay! You awake?
[Jonathan Holland can be heard walking towards the door to Jay's room, when the tire iron is raised to the window, tapping three times lightly. Jay hears the noise, and grunts yet again.]
Jay Thunder : Don't gotta fuckin' knock, John! Just come in!
[The door opens, a confused look on Jonathan's face as he walks in, looking around.]
Jonathan Holland : But... I didn't knock?
Jay Thunder : Then what the fuck was that noise...?
[Jay looks at Jonathan for a few seconds, but the questioning silence is broken by the sound of familiar laughter outside; sick, twisted and sadistic laughter. Jay darts up towards the window, looking out in every direction. He finally spots the person across the street, walking around a corner. Jay notices the tire iron, barely getting a glimpse of it, and his eyes go wide.]
Jay Thunder : Syn...
Jonathan Holland : Huh?
Jay Thunder : Syn. The motherfucker found me, again...
Jonathan Holland : Should I alert the authorities?
[The suggestion angers Jay, and he turns to his driver, scowling him.]
Jay Thunder : Do you REALLY think the fucking police will be able to stop that fucking maniac!?
Jonathan Holland : Well, I just thought...
Jay Thunder : That's the fucking problem, Jonathan! You're paid to drive this bus, not think!
Jonathan Holland : Look, dude, I'm sorry...
Jay Thunder : I am too... God, you're an idiot. John, just go.
Jonathan Holland : Okay...
[Jonathan lowers his head, sadly. Jay lays down on the bed, hands on his forehead, staring towards the ceiling. The anger and rage slowly subside as he calms down, before he realizes what he had done.]
Jay Thunder : Shit... Did I just cuss out my best friend...?
[He slides so he's sitting on the edge of the bed, his frown even deeper. After a few minutes of silent thinking, he stands up. He slips on a pair of jeans over his boxers, and a button-up t-shirt to top it all of. Ignoring the buttons, he walks to the front of the bus where Jonathan sits, face covered by his hands.]
Jay Thunder : Hey, John, dude... You alright?
[Jonathan looks up at Jay, close to tears.]
Jay Thunder : Look man, I'm sorry for yelling at you like that. It was uncalled for. Just... I don't appreciate that Syn guy stalking me, and it's got me on edge.
[Jay sits across from him.]
Jonathan Holland : Ya' know, it ain't right taking that shit out on friends.
Jay Thunder : I know, I know... It's just tough, man. You don't know what I've been going through.
Jonathan Holland : Let's just forget this shit happened, alright?
Jay Thunder : Deal.
[The two shake hands, and Jay smiles.]
Jay Thunder : So, where to next?
Jonathan Holland : I was thinkin' we could go see the sights.
Jay Thunder : Have fun with that.
[Jay grabs his hoodie, quickly throwing it on as he walks out of the door.]
Jonathan Holland : The hell you goin'?
Jay Thunder : To explore the hometown of my favorite team!
[Before Jonathan can reply, Jay's already ran down the street, in the direction of the Georgia Dome.]
Jonathan Holland : Oh dammit, Jay...
...
“Can't keep going on like this, they make me sick... And I get so sick of it...”
…
“War... War never changes...”
February 10th, 2013
Atlanta, Georgia
11:59 PM
[The second scene opens up, but almost as soon as it starts, it cuts off.]
: The following message is transmitted at the request of the United States Government. At 11:59 Eastern Standard Time, Civil Authorities detected that a nuclear attack had commenced against the United States. These attacks are thought to be, but are not restricted to, the following cities; Chicago, St. Louis, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Philadelphia, and Washington D.C.
[Soon, it's obvious the message is from the Emergency Alert System, warning of an imminent nuclear disaster. The message almost immediately sends the world into shock, as the camera shows video from several of the targeted cities. Riots breaking out, people scrambling to escape fate, and absolute anarchy. Crying families who haven't a chance to escape, knowing their death is soon to come. Others, calmly walking through the street, silently sulk and think over their lives thus far. The next shot shows the nuclear missiles, recognized as ICBMs or Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles, flying through the atmosphere. After a few more minutes, the ICBMs make impact. Mushroom clouds explode into the sky, causing shock and awe to all who can see them, as the screams of those evaporated and disintegrated in the explosions echo across the United States. The crying families and friends of the dead can be heard throughout the world, as the clouds of smoke and ash rise through the skies...]
((The following is inspired by the Fallout series. There are references to the series. I claim no ownership, as Fallout is the work of Bethesda Softworks. I, in no way, own it. Thank you.))
--- TWO YEARS LATER ---
Jay-Hawk : C'mon, boy.
[The second bit of scene two comes into view soon, showing Jay Thunder, now known simply as Jay-Hawk, walking down a deserted street. Beside him, his German shepherd companion, Dog. Looking around at the frames of what was once homes to several families, he shakes his head.]
Jay-Hawk : Two years and I still haven't gotten over it... It's ridiculous, Dog. It really is...
[He sighs, before looking down at the whimpering Dog. Bending down to scratch his ear, he hears a gunshot.]
Jay-Hawk : What in the w-
[Before he can finish, he's interrupted by the hiss of a bullet flying over his head. Realizing that was blatantly aimed at his head, and knowing he'd be dead should he still have been standing, he rolls into cover.]
Jay-Hawk[whispering]: Alright, you prick... Wanna fight? Let's fight...
[Leaning up against a pile of rubble, Jay throws his bag in front of him.]
Jay-Hawk : Okay, Dog, we gotta get something worthy to take this cunt out... .22LR? Nah, too small... 9mm? Nah... 5.56mm? Yeah, this works.
[With a smirk, he takes out his salvaged M4A1, loading the magazine into the rifle.]
Jay-Hawk[thinking to self]: Time to make some other poor bastard die for his “country...”
[He leans around the corner to spot out the guy, finding no trace of him until he stands up behind his own cover; a wall that is barely standing.]
Jay-Hawk[thinking to self]: All... Too... Easy...
[Licking his lips, tasting the blood of his opponent from here, he turns the corner quickly, firing a shot in his direction. The round travels through the wall, piercing the metallic armor, penetrating the battle-hardened skin of his adversary, and tearing through his heart like a sword slicing through Jell-o. Jay smirks as he hears a quick grunt, and then the 'THUD' of a dead-man falling.]
Jay-Hawk : Another job done well, Dog! Let's go collect our loot!
[He loads the gun back up, walking cautiously over to the fallen raider.]
Jay-Hawk[sarcastically]: Oh me-oh my! How did I NOT know it was a Raider?
[He laughs a bit, before tearing the armor off the man, along with his bag. He digs through it, finding nothing but a can of Pork'N'Beans, and a single room-temperature bottle of Nuka-Cola.]
Jay-Hawk : Oh look, it's dinner! And what is this...
[He digs deeper, finding a couple of magazines for his own guns, along with a can of dog food.]
Jay-Hawk : Dinner for the two of us, Dog. Good haul, wouldn't ya' say?
[The companion looks up at him, tongue out, and barks once.]
Jay-Hawk : I knew ya' would! Come on, let's find someplace safe to eat.
[The two continue on their journey after packing everything up, walking towards their hometown of Megaton. Upon arrival, Deputy Weld greets them with his prerecorded message.]
Deputy Weld : Greetings, Partner! Welcome... To... Megaton!
Jay-Hawk[thinking to self]: Shut up, you damned hunk of metal...
[Dog barks at the Protectron, as Jay walks through the giant rusted doors of Megaton. As they close behind him, he smiles.]
Jay-Hawk[thinking to self]: Good to be back home... First, nap... Then, trading.
[Jay walks down the large makeshift metal stairway, making a left turn to another makeshift staircase. Walking up, he looks out over the town, smiling. Moriarty's Saloon, Craterside Supply, and the illustrious undetonated atomic bomb laying at the bottom of it all. Opening the door to his home, he walks in to find...]
TO BE CONTINUED
…
-UNKNOWN LOCATION-
So Jones, this is your chance, huh? You, an absolutely arrogant, self-centered prick, getting a shot at my championship. Not just a normal match, no, but in what you call a Knockout Match? So you can “effectively rip my shoulder out of its socket?” Hah! You're pathetic, Jones. Ya' see, this is the one match you should have avoided at all costs. I enjoy pain, and I enjoy inflicting it on people even more. Whether that person is a friend, foe, or someone I couldn't care less about. You've shown your ass on more than one occasion, and now, I'm ready to kick it all around THE FUCKING ARENA!
Jones, I've despised you since you joined PCW! You claim I follow in your fucking footsteps? That's fucking PATHETIC! I follow in NOBODIE'S FOOTSTEPS! Even if I did, why would I follow in yours?! Because you're “so amazing” and “the greatest thing since sliced bread?” HELL NO! You're nothing but a sack of disgusting flesh, a waste of fucking space! The only thing you're good for is cleaning the fucking toilets in the backstage area, Smith!
So you know what?! This “Knockout Match” you had in mind, and the “Hashtag” Broadcast Championship you want so Goddamn much!? How about I do this; I'll take your fucking head in my hands, twist until your spine looks like a fucking strand of DNA, then what will I do?! I'll pull the fucking bone out of your FUCKING MOUTH! I'LL FORCEFEED YOU YOUR OWN FUCKING SPINE IN FRAGMENTS! I'm SICK of your shit, Smith! The only thing I want to do in this match?! FUCKING KILL YOU! I want to END YOU! End YOU, end your CAREER, end EVERYTHING YOU LIVE FOR!
YOU'VE CROSSED THE FUCKING LINE, SMITH!
Okay, you gave me your worthless opinion about me, my championship, and my championship reign. You made claims such about me, claiming you've changed me, made me think. You CLAIM you respect me... Do I respect YOU? Hell no. You have done nothing to deserve it from me. NOTHING. I haven't gotten the fourth most wins in PCW on sheer luck, and I haven't won my three championships so far because I've paid someone, no, I've gotten this far because I've worked my ass off. I'm a far better champion than you may think, Jones. I'm willing to prove it, too.
Remember how you said you'd throw me over the top rope and break my femur, and jump up and down on it until I pass out? Jones, what I have to say about you is too fucking demonic to even put on the airwaves. But ya' know what? I'm going to say it, either way...
Jones, I want to rip your innards out one-by-one. I want to see them strewn all over the ring mat. I want to see your heart beating in my fucking hand, as I rip it from your chest. I want to see your intestines wrapped around your neck like a noose, hanging you inches from the ground. See your own spleen shoved in your mouth, as your stomach sits atop your head like a hat. And ya' know what?
I will do every bit of that. This IS a Knockout Match after all, ISN'T IT!?
I won't just knock you out, Smith Jones. I will put you on the proverbial shelves of wrestling for God-knows-how-long. You're nothing to me, you're nothing to PCW, hell, you're nothing COMPLETELY. You don't deserve to breathe, to stand on this planet, to stand amongst the greats of PCW. You're gonna get a huge reality check at Wrestle Extravaganza, Smith. It's on, you fuckin' cunt...
You've woken a demon, and you're gonna pay for it.
Thunder out, bitches...