Posted by Lukas Unruh on July 11, 2004, 12:01 am, in reply to "Thinking."

...continued He, in turn, watches her disappear completely behind the door and wall, left only to hear her patter on the marble staircase leading to the bedrooms. After that subsides and silence dominates, Lukas turns to the only thing left moving in the room beside him. The crackling fire. “Herman Smackdown.” Those words ring out in the room quietly. “You’ve begged for me to speak. You’ve asked me to give you a word. Well, I’m going to give you a whole bunch of them to choke on. There are two reason’s that I’ve let Alyana do the talking. One, she likes to talk. I figure why not indulge her on that fact and let her go. Obviously, it’s done it’s job. You’re pissed and I’m enjoying it. I think she is too. Two, I’d rather let my talk happen in the ring. So far, it hasn’t spoken it’s full volume, but that’s going to change. I guess I could talk more, but, when I take a look at the flip-side of things, I don’t like what I see. What is it that I see? I see you, Herman. I see a man that does a whole lot of talking, but, really says nothing that a million other guys haven’t said before you threw on the tights that very first time. It’s old, tiresome and quite boring, actually. Why is it that every new person comes in and has to announce to the world just who the hell they are. We‘re wrestling against you, we have a good grip on just who you are.” Lukas turns away from the fire and looks to the ground for a moment, preparing for something. Looking up and gripping our attention, he speaks. “You’re HERMAN FREAKING SMACKDOWN!” Lukas’ mocking of his opponent is fairly on. Only thing missing is the obnoxious shrill. “You’re ‘unstoppable‘. You’re ‘a former champion‘. ‘They should just hand the belts over to you, and end this charade‘. There it is. That’s what you are.” He looks up and his eyes grip our own. “You’re tired. You’re played out. You are ordinary.” A poker sits among other utensils used in preparing and upkeep of a fire and fireplace. Lukas grasps the handle of it and forces the end into the glowing embers, stoking them to life so that the existing flames grow larger. “Herman, maybe you’ve already realized that you really needed to differentiate yourself from the rest of the crowd. In that realization, you’ve thrown out that your going to show the guys in the back that you are brutal and obscene. They won’t know what hit ‘em, right? Wrong. Again, you are going down a path that’s already been forged. If you hadn’t been banging that pot and screaming your name in some cheap form of advertising, you’d have known this already. Before retiring, there was this little guy that was every bit insane, violent and obscene as the IWA had seen before, and in the short time since his departure, since. He’s D. FREAKING LEPRECHAUN! Look it up. Learn the name, because unlike you will soon enough see, I’ve heard he was un-freaking stoppable. The IWA’s already had their weapon of mass destruction, as you called it. So sorry, you’re too late.” Lukas puts the poker, fresh from the fire, back into it’s holder. Extending that hand out in-front of him, he throws up a finger, pointing to it with his other hand. “Okay, let’s see. Despite your attempts to liven up the show, you’re boring.” Another finger goes up. “Your verbal attacks have so far contained name-calling and complaining. Not to mention begging.” yet another. “Oh, and your current persona has basically been done already. And you’ve had the audacity to call your last opponent soft and weak? First impressions are a b###h, eh? I admit, I’m sitting at 0-2, but when you throw out our respective records and look at the matches themselves, you see an interesting comparison. Simply put, I am better than you. I took on two nobodies while you took on one. I dominated the match while you struggled early on. You did give the fans some comedic gold, as Alyana said earlier, so I’ll give you that one. Had it not been for an interference, things may be drastically different, and you wouldn’t be, ill-advisedly, overlooking me. I’m not with you. I’m merely pointing out simple facts. Things, that with some easy thinking, stand out as obvious. So, looking at our first impressions, I believe I’m impressive while you remain impressionable. Our match will be the deciding vote in that, won’t it?” Lukas looks up from where his fingers held points and grips our gaze again. “I may not matter worth a damn around here, but that’s something I can change. Being new is like that. People won’t take notice until you make them, hence your banging and yelling. But, have you seen anyone really bringing up your name since then? Hell, not even Jack Cross has bothered to let your name pass his lips after you attacked him. Is that enough of a measure to how much you matter as well? You attacked a man and he won’t be bothered by merely mentioning you? That hurts. But, why am I continuing on? I’m not suppose to provoke this crazed lunatic of a man. We were warned in an earlier rant of his. So, instead, I’m not going to provoke you, Herman. I’m just going to look you in your eyes, knock you into next week, come at you hard when you seem erratic and possibly even offer you a snack if the chance arises. Oh, wait, those are some of the things that people are actually not supposed to do. I guess I’ll just have a Dick Clark Pineapple Screwdriver and head to bed.” He covers his mouth in a mockingly sarcastic way. “Oops. Guess I pulled another boo-boo. Oh well, can’t fret about it now. I’ve got win number one to collect on.” Lukas starts for the door and stops once he's holding the knob in his hand. Half turning his head, he shoots back a final comment. "I owe her that much." And the door closes.