Rise Again
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| | | Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] |  |
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Corey Casey
Posts : 1395
Join date : 2011-03-01
Age : 35
Wrestler Stats
IWF Record: 27-12-1
Alignment: In Between
![Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] Empty](https://2img.net/i/empty.gif) |  Subject: Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] ![Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] I_icon_minitime](https://2img.net/s/t/15/19/06/i_icon_minitime.gif) Wed Feb 06, 2013 1:38 pm | |
| Speaking of IWF's budding tag team division, The Empire's...uh...Hollywood's Fucking Finest's...uh....well, Ace Static and Axle Vengeance proved to be an absolutely dominating pair last week when they show cased their skills against Tim Patrick and Sean Libby. This week though could prove to be a challenge as they are set to do battle with the spunky Jacob Figgins and the debuting Hunter Sullivan | |
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Guest
| | Subject: Re: Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] Sun Feb 10, 2013 8:22 pm | |
| Because me and Fig have CD that is a sequal to the other, I've given Figgy the ability to post my promo for me tonight. It's being sent to him as we speak, i hope that isn't an issue. |
| | | | The Propaganda
Posts : 69
Join date : 2012-12-24
Age : 36
Wrestler Stats
IWF Record: 0-0-0
Alignment:
| | Subject: Re: Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] Sun Feb 10, 2013 11:27 pm | |
| ~~ Divine Collision pt. 1 ((Off Camera))~~
Inside the smokey atmosphere of the Kickstand bar of Independence, Missouri. There seemed to be some type of live performance going on in the small stage the bar has to offer. This certainly wasn't a large venue at the slightest. A closer look at the banner over drums suggest that currently playing was “Unfathomed Tower” a rather odd sound of the crunchy sounding seventies and eighties doom metal , with atmospheric accompaniment from a key board. Standing up front and center in the ensemble was Jacob Figgins. In his hands he wielded a BC Rich Warlock five string bass. There was a small crowd in front of the stage, into the music, while the rest of the bar decided to chill at their tables and enjoy their drinks.
“And, This voice...inside my head
That comes, to me at night. It keeps tellin me
That you are dead.
Although I know, I know you'll never die. ”
Jacob closes off the song with his usual bluesy rumble, which seemed to compliment the foreboding theme of the lyrics. The band gave it's thank yous over a bout of lighthearted applause as they then began to take the set down to get ready to take their things home. After placing his bass upon it's stand, Jacob hopped off the stage and went to wander over to a table he had claimed earlier. He had a couple drinks in him, he possibly wasn't thinking straight. At least he hoped that was the case when he saw Lacey sitting next to a man in a tool hoodie. He was seeing things, right? Because he know this guy had more sense than to hang around in a bar he's in.
Figgy's pace became choppy and tense as he got closer to the table. Anger flowed freely, adrenaline rushed behind that current, narrowing his Vision, blurring his thoughts. His left hand shot out and snatched an empty beer bottle from a nearby table. Hmm, not exactly a chainsaw, but will still do the trick. He broke it against the side of the table and Figgy lunged toward the hooded man. Luckily for the man, he was able to pick up a bar stool and put it between him and Figgy. He tossed back his hood to reveal he is Hunter Sullivan.
Hunter: “What the fuck, Lacey!? I thought you said he calmed down “
Lacey coughs a moment while smiling sheepishly. Suggesting she was probably full of shit when she stated that. Both men shoot a glance to Lacey.
Hunter and Fig: “You set this up didn't you? You're a bitch”
Both men return their stares at each other, the fact that they both agreed to something didn't seem to lower the hostilities one bit. Figgy's make shift knife was still clutched firmly in his grasp while Hunter held up the bar stool.
Lacey : “Put the bottle down, Jake. They're going to call the cops if you don't calm down”
Jacob smirked while trying to push the barstool aside.
Figgy : “Gives me just enough time to stab him in the mother fucking eyes.”
Lacey growls and pushes Jacob back. He usually forgets that she was a wrestler at one point and she can throw her weight around if the situation called for it.
Lacey: “Going to jail is not an option for you, I'm sure you don't want to give up up that number one contender spot to stab someone in the face? This place is too full of testosterone and booze to get any point across . Come on lets find some place better to talk”
Figgins tosses the bottle into nearby trash can and looses a grunt. Why does that bitch have to be right and be bitchy about it? The world may never know, Lacey leads both men out of the bar and off to a more quiet public setting.
~~Kvasir (On camera)~~
Open once more to the scene of Figgy's basement. Figgins was blowing of a little steam by assaulting a punching bag that has seen better days. The blue heavy bag sloppy taped in the center to cover up a rip from the abuse it had taken. But even with the tape, each strike was followed by sand escaping and hitting the floor. Figgy didn't notice, he continued to work on his combinations. Left, right, back fist. Jab, jab, knee thrust. Figgy clapped his hands around the sides of the bag to stop it from swinging. Moving away from the bag he picks up a bottle of Guinness and opens it with his teeth before spitting out the bottle top.
“Be there valuables within this scrapheap of sin? If once there were, they are gone, nothing but memories. Presently? These Ragamuffins can only claim their spot as a living parody of what this sport stands for. Anything that might have been once good about them has long ago dried up and they bumble forth without any real drive. They just use one powerful name, one that has gotten them by so far in this company. A name, a legacy. When their challengers step forward they look at a long tapestry before them. The tapestry that tells of their exploits and do those exploits shake them to their very core? Yes, to a lot of people, for some reason names carry weight. It throws them off their game, it causes them to hesitate and HFF knows how to jump through a window when it is open. They know how to snatch opportunity when it arises. So far their name has saved them, call me cocky, but I'm gonna change all that”
Figgy glances about the basement seeing the state that it is in, the strippers who moved out last week sure left behind a bit of a mess. Their two foot purple bong still sitting upon the coffee table, various crappy chick flick DVD covers litter the floor. The new person moving in was probably going to bitch. But at least the brewery wasn't there anymore.
“But Figgy they are living legends! But Figgy you can not expect to match up to their level! That's some of the statements I have getting from the IWF fans who tune in every week. In my drunken stupor I might have shouted 'Fuck you kid, you're a dick!' And possibly made a ten year old cry. But honestly, who brings their kid to a bar to listen to a doom metal bands concert? I mean, metal is awesome but that doesn't mean bring your kid around to a place with booze around to listen to it. How in the hell did that kid get past the bouncer, sounds like piss poor parenting to me, along with bad bar policy. Why in the fuck am I rambling? Shut the fuck up Figgy!”
To clarify, Figgy was trying to encourage parents to better care for their offspring. See, he can be a role model when he puts his mind to it. He's a total face, no doubt about it. Figgy finds himself resting upon the half couch. Not sitting, just leaning into it while he took a sip of the dark beer.
“Anyway, there was a point in time where I almost had a history with HFF. Long ago, Hunter told me of a company where he wrestled and he thought I would do great there. His original intention was to reform G.O.D and slowly enter the fold that was HFF. But there was a twist of fate, I know not whether to consider it lucky or unlucky. Within my third match into the company, my marriage that was spiraling out of control reached it's climax. I found myself having to take time off because I had to get my ex-wife's hatchet surgically removed from my left shoulder. After that company figured out the details of my absence, they were quick to nullify my contract. For some reason a man dealing with a hatchet flinging ex-wife was more of a risk to the company's name than say...Ace Static? That logic simply baffles me. Stupid company is stupid.”
He shakes his head in disappointment, regretting his decision to ever sign for the company. But glad that it has long ago withered away into nothingness.
“But I found myself having the fortune of never having my name associated with this band of burglars stealing laces from their own lost shoes. I am glad that I wasn't plunged into that testosterone driven soap opera that they call their lives. The very soap opera that they don't have the common decency to keep it separate from their professional lives. Week in and week out we watched an episodic display of hedonism and debauchery. A life style they tried to justify with a stinking pile of pseudo philosophy. Their entire act is hollow, Axle was generous enough to make that undeniable with his statements.”
“ Axle has the life long goal of getting an Emmy for best supporting actor. So he tries and tries to project an image of him being the villain. He is desperately trying to be reviled ,repulsive, to be an object of hate. He is trying to be a bad guy for the sake of being a bad guy. It is the most well known short cut for getting your name out there. It is one of the easiest as well, only seconded by clinging to a name greater than your own. And he's got that tangent locked in as well. Just from the time I have been here he has made it known to all that he has no intention of ever playing a lead role. He may have the skill, he may have the confidence. But the drive is no where to be found. The plane has crashed into the gods be damned mountain and it lays shattered in the wreckage. It's being burned alive, and Axle ain't doing a fucking thing about it.”
“What happened to the thrill of competition? Is that laying in the rubble as well? Or has that died long long ago? Did it die, when at some point insecurity slipped into your mind, and you thought that your skill alone wouldn't carry you? Did it die the moment the spotlight hit you and you yearned to keep it on you for all eternity? Did it die the moment your name started to carry weight and you kicked it to the side because you thought you didn't need it anymore? What was it Axle, I'm sure the world would love to know. I'm sure they'll be more interested in that than your constant Empire drivel. I got nothing against the group, honestly. But did you take some type of oath restricting you from having something interesting to talk about?”
A large spilling of sand could suddenly be heard as he looked over his shoulder to see that the tape had lost it's hold and the punching bag had succumbed to it's abuse. Figgy mutters under his breath, like he didn't already have a mess to clean up.
“On the other side of the coin, we have Ace Static. Honestly, I know little about this guy. Sure, his past maybe as storied as Axle's maybe even more so. But if Axle is the result of trying too hard, Ace is the fucking archetype. A man trying so hard that it gets to the point of being counter productive. Ace tried so hard to be interesting that it makes people LOSE interest. I once knew a guy like you. A white man turned black who was a gazillionaire militant gangster , as well as an ex CIA member. He had a full blooded Japanese son and a full blooded black daughter. He treated every day like a grand theft auto mission. If he didn't have stage 16 cancer that month, there was someone trying to kill him. And how I wish I was making up at least a single word of that. But I am not, that was the melodrama that was always following him. I mean there is stretching the truth, and then there is straight up trying to insult someone's intelligence. I have a feeling that his story was the latter.”
“That's what makes me pity you. You are one purse snatching away from becoming that guy. I mean you're doing that shit already. I mean, I saw on TMZ a couple years ago that you were dead. In reality, in this world the dead stay dead. But ya know I have a sister, and what have I learned from her hogging the television to watch her soap operas? In the soap opera world, a character dies and comes back all the time, cause you know, the actor wanted to take a vacation for a little bit. What does that make you, Ace? What world are you living in?”
Figgy slipps on his sunglasses, taking another slow sip of his ale, a smirk riding across his lips.
“I mean, can I really drive the point home any further? This is a WRESTLING match. Hunter, may be a bit of a drama queen, but he is a wrestler. I am a wrestler. You two are actors. Acting out your next melodrama. Sure I fancy myself a bit of an artist as well. My canvas? That very ring that our two teams will do battle upon. I paint a picture with my blood and sweat, then I mix in a bit of yours as well. I am constantly driving myself to evolve, to never grow stale. You two are content with rotting and stagnating.But I guess it's time for you two get the rewards you worked so hard for”
Figgy returns to an upright stance, holding his hands behind his back as if he were holding some big surprise.
“Actors shoot for a number of awards that become the highlight of their career. Well, I have them all right here”
He chuckles while slapping his left knee. Making sure to prop it up and let it be seen.
“This is Tony”
His hand moves up and points to his elbow.
“This is Emmy”
He clinches his right fist slowly, in a dramatic fashion.
“This is oscar”
Finally, Figgy taps the side of his head.
“And this is the golden globe. You have been nominated for all of them. Doesn't that make you feel all tingly inside? It's time to close the curtain before the audience begins projectile vomiting all over the place.”
Figgy walks over to the punching bag and lands a high kick upon it. It was a rather pointless gesture, he might as well have kicked a dead horse. But hey, that's what HFF is there for.
“But do me a favor and TRY to keep up”
Glance into the blackness
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| | | | Guest
Guest
| | Subject: The Se7en Deadly Sins: Part II Sun Feb 10, 2013 11:38 pm | |
| ![Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] StaticAge_zpsd5cef1b5](https://2img.net/h/i1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee389/VincentCassidy/StaticAge_zpsd5cef1b5.jpg) --------------------------------------------------------------- Battlegrounds 66: Battle of the Rockstars --------------------------------------------------------------- The Se7en Deadly SinsPart II --------------------------------------------------------------- By: Ace Static --------------------------------------------------------------- ******* Do I frighten you; maybe I send shivers down your spine and make your heartbeat race feeling like it could burst out through your chest? If you saw me walking towards you would you cross the street to avoid walking by me? You might FEAR me but the truth of the matter is the only thing you should fear is fear itself. Your existence has come into question. Do you STRIVE on a regular basis to be a better person? How often do you fill the quota? Let’s face it, it’s in human nature to do as we please and look out for ourselves. Let me give you all some food for thought. Look around and see. Our home sweet home the land of the free and home of the brave. I must say I’ve never been in a country filled with so many SINNERS yet so many evangelical ASSHOLES. All of these people force fed by the hypocritical media. Following different paths yet in the end it’s all the same. This place is nothing more than a cluster fuck full of lazy retards that don’t have the mental capacity to understand what’s going on in the world around them. It is this very media that many people follow and become SLAVES to the screen. As humans we haven’t progressed for years. Do you not recall the books that would speak of the 2000’s and how we’d have flying cars, hoverboards, teleportation, and some even said the world as we know will cease to exist on December 21st 2012. I know what I did on that day, I was be going about my business laughing at the magic man in the sky telling him to strike me down. Repent they say REPENT! I laugh at you silly neurotic fucks. Look at our society and tell me how you see it? I can paint the picture but can you decipher the message? Look around at the pathetic individuals that walk the green Earth. So much IGNORANCE crammed into one country. I look around and what do I see? I see nothing but foolishness to the tenth degree. --------------------------------------------------------------- GREED --------------------------------------------------------------- ![Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] Greed](https://2img.net/h/i1073.photobucket.com/albums/w396/tysonbishop/greed.gif) --------------------------------------------------------------- GREED --------------------------------------------------------------- ...GREED...
...GREED...
...GREED...
...GREED...
...GREED...I was born into money, the world handed to me on a silver platter. Barely lifting a finger to earn my way to the top. I’ve used my money to persuade those to help me. Consistently my wallet is gorged as well as my stomach. Do I care if others suffer while I rise to the top? I don’t lose a wink of sleep at night. Look at all the money I have and all the GOLD I’ve pilfered. My actions do not have consequences or repercussions. They call me Jack Savage…I call him GREED. I am a self-made businessman despite having a rich family. The world sits in the palm of my hand as I cause chaos and destruction to establishments. Look at me…look at the cars I drive, the MONEY in my account, or the cunning negotiation tactics I possess. Sometimes I like to stir up controversy just to steal the limelight. They call me Alexander Remington…I call him GREED. I studied at Harvard and graduated with a perfect 4.0. The Stock Market is my stallion and I am its jockey. Fortune 500 companies begged me to be their business consultants but wrestling is my passion. A KING of the microphone I truly am. Class, Integrity and Intelligence…are the rules of my kingdom. My ego is inflated and my monetary value is through the roof. I take pride in my net worth. They call me Howard Harvard…I call him GREED. ...GREED...
...GREED...
...GREED...
...GREED...
...GREED...These men are guilty of the same SINS. All three men, different face same personality traits. Will they perish and burn at the stake for the SINS they’ve committed or will they walk away scot-free continuing in their treacherous ways? Well look up to the sky and ask the man that is supposed to be our creator why they have not been stuck down and forced to perish in the depths of damnation. They will never have to pay for their actions or suffer for their consequences. As painfully obvious as it is I’m just opening your eyes. However, how much stock do you take in the words that pour from The Mamba’s mouth… There is no higher power and there is no creator. When DEATH greats us with a smile and a sickle we are forever worm food soiling the Earth as the world goes on living without us. Live your life and do as you please because tomorrow you might be stricken with disease. This is nothing new…but it’s time we all awaken. You can just call me Ace, pleased to meet you…hope you guess my name. --------------------------------------------------------------- WRATH --------------------------------------------------------------- ![Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] Wrath](https://2img.net/h/i1073.photobucket.com/albums/w396/tysonbishop/Wrath.gif) --------------------------------------------------------------- WRATH --------------------------------------------------------------- ...WRATH...
...WRATH...
...WRATH...
...WRATH...
...WRATH...My whole life has been based upon causing harm to those that have scorned me. Vengeance isn’t yet a name but more so a lifestyle. I’ve beaten, tortured, and degraded those that have opposed me. Dishing out the pain that thrives inside of me…unleashing it upon my victims. It never ends the cycle is vicious. Ending people’s dreams and wishes. I’m the ultimate type of evil. Yet I stand well off. I challenge the LORD daily and yet he continually fears me. They call me Axle Vengeance…I call him WRATH. I let you inside me for an opportunity at heavenly bliss. My seductive eyes and sexual appetite had you right where I wanted. Was I following ORDERS or was I simply looking to establish my name? You used me how you wanted and had your way with me. I gave you something back in return and now you’ll remember me. Spreading my legs, spreading my name, and spreading my disease. My womb is polluted and my stomach has been pumped often. Soon enough I’ll end Chuck’s marriage force him to divorce. Everyone will feel my acrimony. They call me Molly Reid…I call her WRATH. Raised by a family of killers they were sent away. With no mother or father to care for me surely they’d all pay. Consequences for actions done unto me…swift and VICIOUS I shall strike. My brother tried to be civil with me I buried him under a Maytag. Look at my heart black as night and as emotionless as the color white. Those that have crossed me have suffered the ultimate price. I’m a monster. Without facing any course for my actions I’ll always be the same. I fear nothing, no man or entity. Being the most ruthless man in the ring is my destiny. They call me Damien Drake…I call him WRATH. ...WRATH...
...WRATH...
...WRATH...
...WRATH...
...WRATH...GUILTY! Just like the rest of them. My brother’s in arms are sinners just like everyone else. Molly Reid is nothing but a whore, a harlot if you will. Her WRATH is sexual my brother’s a completely different type of physical. Yet somehow Molly Reid is a self-proclaimed winner? Axle Vengeance has won countless would championships and Damien Drake now falls into the champion category as well. I’ll never see the appeal to fly straight and do as you’re told. Who on this planet has the authority let alone the RIGHT to tell me what to do, how to act, what to say, how to live? No one. No one can tell me the decisions I make in life are either right or wrong. There are no consequences for one’s actions. Remember it. Believe it. Give into it. It’s in our nature to sin. Stop fighting the urges. Live your life like the guilty ones. I do not call people these people out as if to beg them to answer to their crimes against humanity and their sins against GOD. I simply beg the questions of belief and desire people to go against the grain. Stop living these hallow sheltered little lives. Go out and do something…be happy and free. Just because a book condemns you to damnation for having a little fun in your life doesn’t mean that when you die you’ll spend eternity roasting in the bowels of hell. To me this book of magic and lies is nothing short of those books written about the faggy vampire and metro Native werewolf. All emotions may be linked to primitive feelings of pleasure or pain. Negative emotions such as sorrow, FEAR and anxiety are associated with pain, whereas positive emotions such as happiness, pride and love are associated with pleasure. The basic function of negative emotion is to deter behavior that leads to painful outcomes. For example, we experience fear when our well-being is threatened, and this fear motivates avoidance of the threat. Conversely, the basic function of positive emotions is to reinforce behavior that leads to pleasure. For example, we experience relief when danger has been avoided, motivating a repeat of our avoidance behavior if the danger should reoccur. Emotions help us do what is necessary to survive. If emotions were detrimental then we wouldn’t have them – they would have been lost in the course of natural selection because with each generation, only the least emotional would have survived. Religion isn’t at war with all our emotions, but it is in conflict with those emotions, which encourage social competition. Greed, envy and lust motivate behavior for defeating our rivals; pride and gluttony reinforce this behavior, and wrath and sloth maintain STRENGTH when faced by challengers. In discouraging these emotions, Christianity appears to be advocating a world without competition. Religion offers its followers a number of comforting propositions such as an afterlife, a protective God, and an explanation for the terrifying uncertainties of life. One might suggest that religion appeals most to those who need comforting. By condemning competition, religious followers condemn that which puts them in need of comfort. The principle cause of anxiety is the THREAT caused by one’s rivals; so what better way to respond to this threat than by condemning the emotions that drive one's rivals to create it? Christianity is about equality. We are “equal in the eyes of God” and we are all tarnished with the original SIN. This is how Christianity resets the playing field, appealing to all who cannot match the greed of their rivals. The seven sins are merely a way of discouraging emotions that are used more effectively by non-Christians. Look at Hollywood’s Fucking Finest…The Tag Team Champions of IWF…we’re unstoppable, unbeatable, and non-believers. People can hide behind a falsified God or prophet it doesn’t matter. Those that know the truth and live their lives as they please to further advance themselves will continue to prosper. The playing field is obviously not equal. There are winners and there are losers. Call us the bad guys and call me a SINNER, all I know is that I’m a WINNER. We’re always and forever, better than you. Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name. --------------------------------------------------------------- THE SHOOT --------------------------------------------------------------- ![Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] StaticShoot_zpscf227ff5](https://2img.net/h/i1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee389/VincentCassidy/StaticShoot_zpscf227ff5.jpg) --------------------------------------------------------------- By: Ace Static --------------------------------------------------------------- An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. Laws explained based upon the biblical verses, that the Bible mandates a sophisticated five-part monetary form of compensation, consisting of payment for "Damages, Pain, Medical Expenses, Incapacitation, and Mental Anguish" — which underlies many modern legal codes. Some rabbinic literature explains, moreover, that the expression, "An eye for an eye, etc." suggests that the perpetrator deserves to lose his own eye, but that biblical law treats him leniently.
Here in IWF, Ace Static and Axle Vengeance have taken things to that level. Yet I’ve looked into the eyes of a scorned man and know he’s soon to strike. A Black Mamba is much quicker to strike than the sluggish Viper. The Viper he comes to take an eye for an eye but he’ll walk away having no sight at all.
I’m sure The Viper made a promise to himself that he will get revenge on Axle and I. We slowly open up to Cleveland’s answer to the “Korova Milk Bar”. On the corner of 117th and Detroit road there sit’s the The Red Red Kroovy. The Red Red Kroovy is designed partially to mimic the futuristic drug den in Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange; inside the bar, an odd playlist of Beethoven and other classical music plays. The crowd in this bar is full of people that society might consider to be less than normal. Waves of people pierced and tattooed up from head to toe…my kind of people.
The lights are low, video screens displaying bizarre and cult films all night long. There are distorted mannequins reaching out of the walls and tables go farther than even he dared to envision. Sexually explicit. Nevertheless, it is a wonderfully comfortable, clean, and spacious environment.
The Red Red Kroovy, is world renown for their selection of potent dairy drinks that are wittily named after dead celebrities. Most distinguished are the peaches and cream flavored Vodka concoction named JonBent Ramsey, and an orange flavored mix "frothy head optional" named for Vic Morrow (who was decapitated in the filming of The Twilight Zone movie.)
All-in-all, Kroovy is designed with a very sardonic wit; an ideal hangout for the twisted and morbid. With that being said in the back of the bar against the wall sits a Man Insurgency Wrestling Federation knows oh so very well.
The wall above him reads “Molko Drencon” in a 70-ish font. Underneath sits Ace “Fucking” Static. His foot is propped on one on the sexually explicit mannequins. Static is dressed very differently this week. His short blonde chopped up hair is messy and disheveled – never unattractive but stuffed underneath a black bowler cap. A unique look pressed upon his face, a look of confidence yet deviousness. In one breath, you could say he seems cool, calm and collected. In another, you can see that he looks irrational and bitter – maybe even a bit mad and delusional. Unstable may be a better term altogether. Perhaps he was just up to something, a grand scheme if you will but wasn’t going to tell you. Ace Static is the type of guy to drop hints and play games. His demonic blue eyes are very cold and piercing. His right eye is accentuated in black eyeliner. His lush lips remain calm and steady. He is wearing a white v-neck shirt with STATIC AGE written across it in dark red and a pair of tattered white acid washed jeans. His black converse Chuck Taylors rest on top of the porcelain mannequin. He casually sips on his Vic Marrow, with a forthy head of course. He sits there sipping and listening to Beethoven’s Symphonies. Everything is completely and utterly silent all around Ace Static. The setting is perfect to his liking, such a perfect setup for a delivery of venom. He finally looks into the camera.“I am the eyes for the blind.
I am the ears for the deaf.
I am the heart for the heartless.
I am the soul for the soulless.
I am the leader for the followers.”He nods his head and takes another sip of his drink before he sets it onto of the mannequin’s bodacious breast. He leans back and maniacally frowns as he folds his hands in his lap. Static’s fingernails painted black. Trying to remain calm and focused he runs his hands through his hair and then readjusts himself in his seat leaning forward his elbows firmly rested upon the top of his thighs. “Hunter Sullivan, you got quite the decision on your hands. Would you like an eye for an eye or a tooth for a tooth? What's it going to be then, eh? Hunter what we did to you was something that was completely called for. We let you into our little family we baptized you in vodka accepted you as one of our own. How did you repay us Hunter? You denied the opportunity. Completely refusing to give into the lifestyle. Not wanting to live the HFF way. You see we don’t have time for people to lollygag around walking the fine line of living the life and not living the life. We said all along either you were WITH us or you were AGAINST us. I was the one to have made the false judgment. It was my eyes that placed a mirage of talent illuminating from your being. See Hunter when I heard you speak you spoke with conviction with purpose. The song was good but the dance was terrible. You could never deliver when it mattered. Plain and simple you lacked the bravado required to be a member of Hollywood’s Fucking Finest. Damien Drake saw it and he made it clear, Axle Vengeance was the second man to detest the thought of you joining. However I made the call and they agreed to go through with it. It was Ace Static that let Hunter Sullivan into HFF. Make not mistake that it was ALSO Ace Static that REMOVED Hunter Sullivan from HFF proving that they he was simply nothing but a miniscule stain on the reputation of HFF.”Ace leans forward and grasps his glass batting his cold, callous blue eyes. Sipping from his glass he places it back down with his hands in front of himself touching fingertips to fingertips. “I’m man enough to admit when I’ve made mistakes and Hunter Sullivan might very well be one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. He should’ve never been considered by myself to join with us. I think Hunter lasted all of a week or two with HFF. Right from the very beginning it was painfully obvious that Hunter just didn’t belong. So we did what any dominating force does…cut the weak link off. Hunter we didn’t just kick you out of HFF. It wasn’t a simple little here’s your walking papers I wish you good luck in your future endeavors. No we DESTROYED you. HFF put the beating of a century on you. It gave me immense pleasure watching you bleed, suffer and beg for the onslaught to cease. I think I saw tears. Just when you thought a group had accepted you and you weren’t the kid picked last anymore…then reality SMACKED you right in the fucking mouth via punt to the skill leaving you feeling a little Dazed and Confused.“ Static happens to glance over at one of the closed circuit televisions and maniacally grins as old UECW footage plays. Zooming in tight on the footage it’s showing the beat down HFF delivered to an incompetent Hunter Sullivan. --------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------- FLASHBACK --------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------- We cut forward. The scene of devastation fills our screens as a young male, blonde, chopped middle length hair, wearing black skinny jeans, an HFF tank top his tattoos covering his arms, neck and chest, and black fingerless gloves are seen...however, this is no normal person. He's a star of the IWF, Ace Static...back in his UECW days and he's bloody, his face has blood spatter painted on it. Looking like a deranged psychopath he runs with all his might kicking Hunter Sullivan’s skull in. “AHHHHHH!!!!!!!” Ace Static belts out a vicious ROAR of hate. Hunter Sullivan lies flat on his back his lip busted open and his nose broken from the impact of Static’s boot. Axle Vengeance spits on Hunter and Damien Drake claps with a smirk on his face. Decimated beyond belief Hunter is motionless. HFF celebrate their exultation of one Hunter Sullivan. A short partnership ends in a massacre. --------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------- END OF FLASHBACK --------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------- Static’s head is tilted back as he is in mid chug of his nice glass of brewed greatness. He wipes his lips after the sip and shakes his head remembering the pressures put upon him a few years ago. He savored the challenge and proved the naysayer’s wrong. He conquered the challenge. In fact, he utterly destroyed the challenge. He took joy in the HFF’s dominance over UECW. Removing Hunter Sullivan brought a smile to his face as he remembered every little detail and the flashback video was the perfect refresher. “That very event was the demise of Hunter Sullivan’s partnership with HFF that very event right there. I should thank you Hunter in a lot of ways. You see that night was the very moment I broke through. As much as it was about HFF that night and our dominance for YEARS more so than any other faction that has graced a television screen. It was that moment that Ace Static the individual took charge. You see when I proved that I could go to a level of befriending and trusting someone like you, to within the drop of dime removing you from our ranks and beating you to within an inch of your life everyone took notice. Media outlets buzzing over the horrific display put on by Ace Static and how the UECW was a product that should be ashamed of themselves. Such a blood mess, people cringed at the slow-motioned angle of my boot smashing your nose BREAKING it on impact. All it did was give me a spotlight. It brought me into the MAINSTREAM even if it was for negative reasons as displayed by TMZ and other news outlets. Fuck them. I used that spotlight to become one of the most vicious men to ever grace a professional wrestling ring. Thriving on controversy and just overall not giving a single fuck…everyone took notice. I went on to become a two time UECW Champion carrying the company on my back while Axle was away. It awoke something that I have thought was long lost. You awoke the fallen brother. Come Battlegrounds I will breathe new life into the dead, stagnant lungs of Ace Static – it will be the rebirth of The Mamba and I will be the man to usher it in. This rebirth is inevitable and it is one that will come with the most noble of intentions but fought with the dirtiest of underhanded methods. I will fight corruption with corruption. I will stab those in the back who would dare do the same to me. I WILL BREED FEAR, DEATH AND DECEDANCE AND CAST IT UPON THOSE WHO WOULD PLAGUE THIS COMPANY WITH THE SAME BURDENS! I will kill the king, retrieve his blood-soaked crown from the foot of his throne and place it upon my head and defiantly proclaim myself the NEW KING!” Looking like a menace Ace stood up yelling about being the new king. He was intent on becoming the greatest and most controversial superstar to ever grace wrestling. The IWF hadn’t seen a man like Static yet soon enough they’d all take notice and realize exactly who he was and what he was all about. There was no fear in his eyes and his soul was empty. Never caring for another human being. His emotionless eyes looked through the camera lens captivating everyone who bared witness to his venom pouring from his mouth. “And so it is; that what must be done is left up to me—the incomplete. I understand what fear is. You must conquer yourself before you can conquer the world. And with a thousand pound weight on your shoulders, the fight is lost sight of; it takes a back seat to survival. You must shed that burden pound by pound, sin by sin, and remember that the only forgiveness you need is from yourself. God doesn’t care about you. Ace Static doesn’t care about you, Axle Vengeance doesn’t care about you and most importantly Insurgency Wrestling Federation doesn’t care about you. Each institution molds your brain like putty, giving you “freedom” to be and to think as you wish. But the truth is not that. Listen close. I am tired of the abuse of power – and so are the people. They clamor for change and it is change that I shall give them. Ace Static is NO savior. I am just the sick s-o-b these people need – whether or not they yearn for it - I’m the one that’ll do what needs to be done. I have the conviction to do what is necessary – to follow through no matter the outcome or the sacrifice.” Spit forming in the corners of Static’s mouth he was literally foaming from the anger and hatred in his soul. There were plenty of things that bothered Ace. His desire to change people’s thoughts and outlooks on life was strong and kept him motivated. He wanted to bury Hunter Sullivan and his little friend. Ace didn’t forget about Jacob Figgins despite what Figgins was probably hoping for. “Jacob Figgins you’ve joined a fight that you have no business getting involved in. Hunter Sullivan…if Hunter had any form of a spine he’d come and take the fight to me. He’d come looking for me to take his PRIDE back. Too bad he’s a coward. Sullivan needed to go and get a friend simply to fight ME. This isn’t between Hollywood’s Fucking Finest and Hunter Sullivan it’s between Ace Static and Hunter Sullivan. I take full responsibility for the decimation Hunter received that night. Yet if you want to step into the ring with GIANTS and find out that SINNERS ARE WINNERS then be my guest. If you feel the urge, the desire to feel the wrath of these TRUE GODS of wrestling then by all means Jacob Figgins step into MY world. I’m sure Axle Vengeance and I will be more than happy to deliver to you the same kind of beating we delivered to Hunter Sullivan that night. The slapstick humor and conspiracy bullshit theories mean nothing when the bell rings. You can take the laughs you get from the fans home with you, maybe it’ll speed up the healing process when you’re licking your wounds from our match. Personally I’m curious to know how the two of you even got a match against us. You certainly don’t deserve it. Hunter Sullivan is a nobody anymore and well Jacob Figgins has always been a nobody for as long as I can remember. The only thing Hunter will ever be remembered for, is getting kicked in the skull by ME. Figgins you’ll just never be remembered…ever. Hunter Sullivan disappeared from the planet after I kicked his skull in and broke his beak of a nose. He’s even begun to look a little pudgy in the midsection…too much sitting around on the couch eh Sully? You should’ve stayed on that couch instead of getting a hair up your ass to try and comeback to face me. Nothing has changed on my end. HFF is still alive and well, we’re still running shit and positioned perfectly in the limelight that illuminates from the IWF. As for the two of you…well nothing changes there, the both of you appear to be struggling grasping for any opportunity to be relevant. An opportunity even so much as begging for scraps from the table. You two hungry? HFF will throw you a bone…then break every single one in your body.” Standing firm and focused Ace cracked his knuckles then popped his jaw not stifling or swaying just standing perfectly firm still speaking with conviction and obvious prowess. There was no doubt in the mind of Static that HFF would be victorious over G.O.D. Hell more than likely three fourths of the IWF world didn’t probably even know who Hunter Sullivan is let alone give to shits what Jacob Figgins would have to say on anything. They weren’t even in the same league as HFF, they knew it and everyone else did too. “This week HFF faces off against Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins, apparently they call themselves G.O.D…God. I’ve spent the last few years proving that GOD does not exist. God is imaginary just like this team’s chances are of beating HFF…IMAGINARY. Come Battlegrounds my gospel will speak truth to the falsification of GOD. Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins might be a team but the team consisting of FLAWS. The team itself personifies tomfoolery. I am facing a degenerate, a man that personifies weakness and was decimated by my very hands. It’s obvious he doesn’t have social skills because his best friend is ONE head butt away from being summoned to wear a helmet. Social skills aren’t the only skills this blobby bloat lacks. They BOTH lack substance. Empty superstars with nothing more than a microphone in their hands and some divine reason for being a wrestler…maybe the desire to compete is their reasoning, that seems to be the popular choice. I’ve seen many carbon copies just like Cunter and Figgins. Hell Figgins has a shtick, a boring and dull shtick but a shtick nonetheless. He does his little act and makes people giggle. Surely that has to be enough to satisfy his wrestling career. The lack of desire to be GREAT is truly what separates the two of them from HFF. Figgins is content being a side show act with his piss poor attempt at being entertaining. Hunter with his big talk yet crippled walk. The two are outmatched by wit, entertainment value, desire, passion, ruthlessness, GREATNESS…the list just goes on and on. Surely Hunter would huff and puff like a frustrated teenager for me kicking him to the curb. Maybe he’d even act like an ex-girlfriend. Figgins will come on and have the humor of Dane Cook…yeah I don’t think he’s funny either…It makes no difference in the end; they’ll both surely fall. The time is now. The revolution is upon us. Ace Static is here to open your eyes, clarify your vision, and reignite your intellect. I’m here to save you: One life at a time.
Give into the Pain…
Give into the Struggle…
Give into ME!!”Ace Static smiles, almost perversely the camera shaking focusing in on him for a good thirty seconds. Standing still unwavering Ace Static doesn’t blink or budge. Suddenly within the blink of an eye Ace leans back and kicks the camera lens in. As the camera falls to the floor shattered and broken it’s video feed dead. The sound of Static’s voice is the last thing you hear. “May your GOD have pity on your soul…for I am “THE sAINT” |
| | | | Alex Dillinger
Posts : 465
Join date : 2012-12-06
Age : 37
Location : Los Angeles, CA
| | Subject: Chapter 8: This is the End Sun Feb 10, 2013 11:43 pm | |
| ![Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] HFFChamps2_zpsa7c8c946](https://2img.net/h/i1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee389/VincentCassidy/HFFChamps2_zpsa7c8c946.jpg) Chapter 8: This is the End![Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] RPSpacerAV](https://2img.net/h/i1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee389/VincentCassidy/RPSpacerAV.png) ![Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] AVsmall](https://2img.net/h/i1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee389/VincentCassidy/AVsmall.jpg) ![Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] Drake](https://2img.net/h/i1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee389/VincentCassidy/drake.jpg) ![Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] Acepic](https://2img.net/h/i1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee389/VincentCassidy/Acepic.jpg) Cast of Characters
Location: Hollywood Hills, Los Angeles, California
"Rise and Shine"Waking up at the crack of dawn, the sun barely omitting over the horizon. A hot cup of coffee, black to be exact, and a tightly packed Marlboro GOLD (not Light for whatever reason) cigarette in my mouth…life was good. Standing with my wife beater half tucked into my basketball shorts in a pair of sandals with my hair tossed up, I definitely looked like I had just woken up.“The Empire reigns supreme and Hollywood’s Fucking Finest, Axle Vengeance, Ace Static, and Damien Drake have won the IWF Tag Team Championship. So it was written, so it shall come to pass. We did what EVERYONE knew was going to happen. We won the belts. Libby and Patrick even knew we had the match won. Begging for us to be just not show up to the match and they win by default. HFF ALWAYS shows up when something prestigious and worthy of our acknowledgment is on the line. Hopefully everyone writes that one down or do whatever it is they need to do to remember that. It’s been getting sickening having to repeat myself so often.”Sipping from the cup and squinting my eyes from the brightness of the sun as it peered through the clouds. Things had been going smoothly and my patience was at an ultimate high. I mean after all I had been through things were coming to a head in my real life as well as my professional life.“Hopefully Ace got the tickets to London. The only reason I even bothered to wake up this early was the thought of getting my revenge against Samuel Hessingstock. It weighed heavily on me and finally after weeks and weeks of planning, maneuvering, and strategically mapping everything out it had come to a head. Samuel was the man who sought to destroy me both emotionally and financially. He’s fucked and he doesn’t even know it yet. I can’t wait to see the look on his face the moment he realizes that I’ve caught onto him and that I’ve come to seek my revenge. He’ll more than likely shit his pants and the very sight of yours truly…”Hearing footsteps coming from behind me I turned quickly and noticed Damien Drake coming through the bedroom walking out to join me on the balcony. Ducking through the thresholds Lurch himself opened the sliding glass door stepping outside with me.“Morning sunshine…”“What’s up Lurch? I didn’t ring…”“Fuck you, do we need to reenact the opening for Rising Monarchy again?”“I’m good.”“That’s what I thought, where the fuck is Acehole at?”“He should be on his way, I got coffee downstairs if you wanna help yourself.”“No thanks, I just took a shot.”“Well played.”Damien Drake began to smoke a cigarette as he sat down in the decorative cast iron chair. Blowing smoke from his nose he glanced out over the city of angels.“Samuel Hessingstock, man I never thought he’d have it in him. Sure he had the motive and the hate against us but he never EVER had the balls to try and pull a stunt like this. Knowing who we are and what we’re capable of it just doesn’t add up.”“You know I’ve thought long and hard about all of this. Sure it doesn’t add up but then again it does. Some struggling former rival of ours decides to try and make a comeback so what does he do? He slowly makes his moves. First setting things up between Ace and I when I was in prison making it seem as though there was some hatred between us brewing. He then takes Ashley and plants his seed further…in more ways than one. After impregnating Ashley he convinces her to marry me and they take all of my money. Now Samuel has the money, the girl, the family he’s always wanted, and he’s relevant in the wrestling business once again. It ALL adds up my dear Damien. It ALL ADDS UP.”“Never really thought of it that way to be honest. I guess it’s just something I never thought him as capable of doing. He never seemed like the vindictive type to pull of an elaborate scheme such as this.”“That’s true, but hell he convinced people for years that he was the brains behind Randall Raines and my feud. He’s always been a conniving prick. He just finally fell into the right plan and the right scheme. His biggest benefit was disappearing for so long and becoming irrelevant. He fell off the map and off of our radar. Everything now comes to a head. EVERYTHING.”My phone began to ring as I quickly slid it. My eyes scanned over the message before looking up to Damien and proceeding to read Ace’s text out loud for Damien to hear.“Hey guys, meet me at the airport in two hours I got held up…I’m about knee deep in a pile of freshly moist and super tight cooter.”Laughing Damien and I shook our heads knowing Ace for whom he was he was definitely not bullshitting about that one. Ace loved pussy almost as much as he loved narcotics and violence.“Well what the fuck do you wanna do for two hours?”“I would say lets throw down some lines and take them straight to the fucking head but you know with you worrying so much about the drug tests and refusing to be a junkie anymore whatever that means than I guess we’ll just sit here and talk like a couple of bitches…FAG!”“I can’t do that shit anymore man, I’m getting older. Besides if I fail a drug test it’s an automatic two week suspension. I don’t get to refute the test results or anything it’s just automatic. What do you want me to do? Just say fuck it snort a line and get suspended right?”“I think you’re a pussy. I think you know as well as I do that no matter what the results of your test said you’d be able to get Corey Casey to dismiss them. I think you just want this as some sort of status thing. Like you need to feel you don’t need the drugs anymore to feel whole. That’s just what I think…”“The fuck, when did you become this thoughtful, insightful, philosophizing mother fucker? Is this a new leaf you’ve turned over Dames? Or are you just being an asshole?”“I’m just being an asshole, I’m always an asshole. Let’s just say that my trip to Japan opened up my mind. I’ve come a long way from being just the muscle for HFF.”“Oh believe me I know that. I’ve always seen the potential just waited to see when it would come out and break through. Looks like it’s finally starting to happen…late bloomer.”“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m gonna go take another shot downstairs and lay down some lines. Enjoy your “coffee” or whatever it is you were doing before I got here…being a pussy and shit.”Present Day
Location: LAX - Airport, Los Angeles, California
"Unexpected Phone Call"Sitting at the terminal waiting by the gate for the flight to be ready to board left us all…well bored to be exact. Ace Static hammered away on his cell phone probably chatting away with a new piece of ass. Damien Drake sat back in his chair shaking his head and head banging to some death metal blasting in his eardrums. A young boy, probably twelve years old or so stared at Damien almost hypnotized by his antics. Damien looked to be raging from the music like a man possessed. I couldn’t help but laugh looking at the scene before me.
My phone started to ring as I glanced down to see who was calling me. It was Veronica probably calling to touch basis with me. We’d been talking off and on ever since getting together for that cup of coffee.“Hello…”“Hey, whatcha doin?”“I’m just at LAX getting ready to hop on a flight to London.”“London huh? You gonna ‘ave a spot a tea and some spotted DICK?”“Real cute V…real cute. I’ve got some business matters I need to take care of.”“Business matters, well I guess I caught you in business mode huh? Sorry. When will you be back in town I wanna go see Mama, but I don’t wanna go alone.”“Alright we’ll go see Mama when I get back in town, it does look kinda cheesy I’m not gonna lie though.”“Cheesy or not I wanna see it.”“Alright we’ll go then…we’ll go see the shitty movie with a shitty plot I’m sure.”“Oh not only are you in business mode but you’re in talk shit about everything fucking possible mode too.”“Call it focused.”She was right though I was focused on the goal and task at hand. Surely my attacking of a movie I’ve never seen before indicated that loud and clear. Hell I think I’ve only even seen one preview of this movie she was referring to. As my phone buzzed in my ear I looked down to see who was calling me. It was my pops. I hadn’t talked to him for probably six to seven years now. Needless to say I was overly shocked to see him phoning me.“Hold on a second V, my dads calling me.”“Your DAD!? Well hurry and answer it I know you’ve been wanting to talk to him and it’ll be nice for you to talk with him…”“Ok V enough talky I need to answer the call.”She got quiet, I made a point that her incoherent rambling and fast paced speech was only making things worse. Besides I needed to answer the phone not hear her go on and on.“Hey what’s up pops?”“Not too much, hey I know this is short notice and I know you’re a busy guy ever since getting back in the game but I’ll be in DC when you’ll be in DC and I wanted to see if we could get together. I haven’t seen you in years son.”“I know it’s been awhile. We’ve both been living our lives guess it’s what happens. But ya give me a buzz when you touch down in DC and we’ll go from there. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now but I can clear some room for you.”“Sounds good kid, keep your head up you look great. I see you’ve put on some muscle and look to be clean and sober.”“I’m not fucking with the hard drugs and doing too much of the party life. My last stint in prison taught me to stay away.”“Hey son, I’m sorry I didn’t write you or visit you when you were doing time. I know it must’ve been hard on you.”“Don’t worry about it. I was fucking up; hell I wouldn’t wanna see me either. I was in a fucked up spot. But listen Dad I’ve got a flight I need to catch right now so we can talk more or whatever later.”“Alright well I’ll talk to you later, be safe.”“Bye.”Clicking the phone the conversation wasn’t as awkward as I had imagined it being. Guess my sobriety had something to do with that. If I was still using and currently under the influence I probably would’ve snapped on my father and chastised him for years of neglect and for being an overall piece of shit. I never forgave him for everything that happened in my childhood. I never forgave him for letting me leave home and live on the streets. Veronica was making something with a blender on the other line as the blaring sounds of blades spinning filled my ear. As the blender’s noise died down I yelled into the phone.“V!”“Whoops, sorry.”“What the fuck are you doing making a drink or vacuuming the apartment?”“I’m juicing! Like Damien! No not really but I’m making my lunch. Trying the whole anti-meat thing right now.”“Oh gotcha, fuck that I’m a carnivore I love…never mind.”“Say it! You LOVE…MEAT!”“Nope, I caught myself before I said it. Fuck that. Not doing it.”“Ugh you’re no fun. Well Alexa I’m going to get back to my lunch making and you get back to your moneymaking. See you when you get home?”“Of course, have fun I’ll talk to you later.”“Byyeeeee!”“Yup, Bye.”Hanging up and turning around everything was still the same. Damien Drake was still moshing peacefully if such a thing could ever be accomplished and Ace looked like he was playing a game now on his phone, either that or he was texting still I couldn’t really tell nor did I give a fuck. I definitely didn’t give a fuck when I heard the lady over the speaker…“Ladies and gentlemen flight 418 for London is now boarding…”Here it was, the moment had culminated and the time was now. We were on our way to London, no looking back now. Vengeance would be mine and Samuel Hessingstock would rue the day he crossed HFF.Present Day
Location: London, England
"Death...to the Conspirator"Arriving after a grueling long drawn out flight I was glad to step foot on land once again. My legs felt like rubber I hated long flights like this. I remember distinctly one time flying with my father to China for a business meeting and it was the worst flight ever. Seems as though ever since that flight my outlook on travel by plane has become bleak. With bags in hand we hailed over one of those cab vans and piled inside. The curry slurper asked us where we wanted to go to and we gave him the address to the hotel we’d be staying at.
Stepping out of the van we arrived at the hotel room passing through limey after limey making our mark. Everyone had stopped to realize who we were. It was hard overlooking Ace’s and myself covered in tattoos we definitely separated ourselves from others based solely on appearance alone. Damien Drake stood out everywhere he went, with his massive size he couldn’t just “blend” in a crowd.
After checking in the three of us placed our stuff in the suite and headed out to Samuel Hessingstock’s place. I had an address thanks to Ace. Samuel didn’t live far from the hotel so things would be heating up rather quickly.
Within walking distance the three of us walked down the street puffing on cigarettes to calm our nerves. Passing by onlookers looking at the “freak” show known as HFF. All the attention was making me nervous. Despite the nerves with one foot in front of the other we continued towards the apartment building that could be seen two blocks away.
A woman was heading out of the apartment complex and Ace opened the door for her with a smile. The older woman’s eyes widened as she slowly passed through us obviously fearful. Nodding his head to her Ace decided to greet her.“’Ello LASS! Good day govna!”Being disrespectful was Ace. Nothing but an immature over the top blonde haired kid…we loved him for it. The three of us walked up to Samuel’s door and Ace knocked covering the eyehole with his hand.“PACKAGE! We got a package ‘ere fa a mister Samuel Hessingstock. POOF! Bob’s ya uncl…”Shoving Ace I looked at him like what the fucks his problem. He was about to blow everything by cracking jokes and acting a fool. After a few moments of silence I placed my ear to the door. There were sounds coming from inside, what sounded like it could be moaning.“Sounds like…like sex?”Damien moved me back with his arm as he leaned back and lunged forward throwing all his weight behind his boot smashing the door in. We all rushed inside and saw nothing.“Jesus Damien way to be subtle.”“You said it sounded like sex, I thought the whole point of this little operation was to catch Sammy boy with his pants down.”“Touché.”Listening closer the sound was coming from the bedroom to the left of the living room. Quickly we charged into the bedroom. Just as we stepped inside the room the sight was disgusting. Holding my stomach and dropping to both knees I refused to vomit. Fighting back every natural urge and instinct in my body I held it in.“WHAT…THE…FUCK!”Scanning the room from my kneed position I couldn’t believe my eyes. Samuel Hessingstock had tied his belt around his neck and attached it to his bowflex. Sitting up just dangling there naked all by the belt. Some sort of sex toy automatic dildo machine concoction pumped behind him. Looking to the television screen he was watching while attempting to get off (and obviously paying the ultimate price for doing so) I could see it was Sam and Ashley my ex-wife. They were just going at it on video. Confirming everything we came here to do it looked as though Samuel BEAT me to the punch…*insert CSI Miami music*.“Nasty motherfucker.”“Let’s get outta here before we get this shit pinned on us.”Leaving the scene quickly that wasn’t the climax I had imagined it would be. Something was wrong. I was supposed to get vengeance against Samuel and not find him looking like a crazed sex fiend who took his jerk off session too far this time. How anticlimactic this whole process had become. My fist was supposed to break his bones and my rage was to be shoved down his throat…this left me feeling a bit empty. Sure some would be glad that he was dead and had already rid me of my troubles. But it wasn’t so much about me just ending Samuel. I enjoyed the aspect of knowing he would see my face and look into my eyes knowing he had not gotten one over on me and that I was the one who would be laughing last. Rather then belting out a maniacal laugh it had become much more of a chuckle.“You look like you could use a drink.”Ace pulled his silver plated ivory encrusted flask from his back pocket. Handing me the flask I took a few swigs. Trying to get the image of Sam out of my head and shake the feeling of unfulfillment.“At least it’s over man, you need to let loose and celebrate. Alls well that ends well right?”In a lot of ways Ace was right. My stomach was still bothering me and my head was starting to pound. This feeling I had put me in no mood to celebrate. I was off to the hotel room to get some sleep. Fuck this day and fuck this bullshit. Not like this. Things weren’t over yet. Someone would pay for every bit of anger and hate I’ve stored deep down inside.Present Day
Location: Washington, D.C.
"Welcome to the Land of the GIANTS"Throughout the week I’ve felt this yearning inside myself to physically FUCK SOMEONE UP. Not just cause harm to them, I’m talking disfigurement. Maybe it was because of the way Samuel had robbed me of my satisfaction.
Sitting with my hands clasped tightly and my head looking towards the ground my wet long black hair flowed down covering my eyes. It looked as though I had been standing out in the rain for hours on end. Shaking slightly and twitching every so often when the chills would pass through my body I tried to remain still. Droplets of water dripped from my tossed and nest like hair.“Hunter Sullivan wants to be famous again? I remember when I made him famous from pouring Vodka all over his head. He stood there and took it too. Someone was dying to fit in. Someone wanted nothing more than to be accepted into HFF. Well when Ace broke that fuckin nose and I spit on you I think you took the hint. We didn’t hear much from you after that huh Hunter? Decide to go into hiding or something? Pretty smart. I would’ve disappeared and gone into hiding too if I knew HFF had made me a marked man. You did a good job of disappearing Hunter. Then again when someone as average as yourself with not much going for you disappears it’s almost as if nothing had changed at all. You were never relevant. Until you sided with HFF you were nothing. Ace Static fucked your shit up and it was because honestly Hunter I’m a man with an eye for talent. You…you never had what it took. You never had the abilities that men like Ace Static, Damien Drake and myself possess. As soon as Ace convinced us to let you in and we rode together after that week I was done with you. See there’s something you probably didn’t know about Hunter. I’ve got ears and eyes everywhere. These people, the people you talk to in the back the people who you consider your peers…these people they act as though they hate me but in reality they ADMIRE me they RESPECT me and more importantly they FEAR me. One of our peers overheard you talking in group to some that will remain nameless. You were overheard saying how you never agreed with HFF’s actions and that you were your own person just siding with the best. We don’t allow that. If you truly wish to become part of a brotherhood you give everything to that brotherhood. You embrace that brotherhood in mind, body and soul. You denied said brotherhood. So we well we gave you the BEATING of a lifetime Hunter. The BEATING of a lifetime. One that I’m sure you’ll forever remember. How’s the nose look? Looking extra beaky I assume. Am I not the only one to notice the extra bagage that Hunter is carrying with him nowadays? What are you six months now Hunter? Jesus Christ first you disrespect us by calling us out yet you don't even have the decency to show up in shape?”Flicking my hair back and over revealing my eyes I looked into the camera with a cold hard stare. Hunter Sullivan, I couldn’t believe he weasled his way into a match with HFF. What made him think he belonged in the ring with us? What made him finally believe he had the stones to wrestle with GIANTS? He didn’t. He didn’t have what it took to beat neither I nor Ace. Fuck Hunter Sullivan and FUCK whoever booked this match. Now I was feeling agitated and would probably ramble and rant.“You know I must say there seems to be a lot of incompetence going on with management. How does a man that has just signed a contract with IWF get to wrestle in the ring with the KING of IWF. Yes Remington I know you have the belt but I’ve been calling myself the KING since I signed the line. I’m LeBron. You can be D-Wayde...you won it without The Empire. Neither one of us are mother fucking Kobe, he’s out of the stratosphere. But back to management…please someone explain to me how Cunter pulled strings to get the match? Not only that but the guy comes in looking like a slob with a beer belly like he hasn’t stepped into a ring in years…probably since we booted him from HFF. That was literally the last time this guy had probably stepped foot inside of a ring. He should have to at least prove he’s still got it let alone make sure Ace didn’t kick the wrestling aspect of his brain out. Fuck it. If management wants to try and cop a few ratings boosts by telling the tale of Hunter Sullivan and HFF then so be it. I guess it is better than anything else they have going for them this week. I mean a showdown of “rockstars” fuck those two phonies. Maybe I’ll come to ringside and toss a match in the middle of the ring…watch those two become engulfed in flames and explode from the massive amounts of hairspray those fucks bathe in.”What a snoozefest Battlegrounds would be if not for HFF and The Empire running shit. Ace and I would put on a show and at least be the most entertaining portion of the program. We were used to carrying UECW on our backs so IWF would be no different. All hail the bad guys…we’re running shit.“Jacob Figgins, why would you side with Hunter Sullivan? I know you two have history together and were a former tag team that probably wasn’t very good but was just quirky enough to get over in the eyes of a select few fans. However this is a match with HFF. I know you wouldn’t want this Figgins. I know that you have no desire to get on the badside of HFF. I know that you don’t want the problems that come with becoming an enemy of HFF. Do yourself a favor Figgins. Listen carefully…let Hunter come to the ring by himself…watch us put another BEATDOWN on him and when the match is over you can go back to doing your little sideshow. You can go back to being the funny weird yet genuinely nerdy character that you’ve tried so desperately hard to get this crowd to love. Don’t worry Figgy, we have no desire to DECIMATE you. Stay out of this shit and you’ll be fine. Don’t put your nose where it doesn’t belong. If you decide to gather up some form of bravery and you decide to stand by your friend…then by no choice will I be forced to BREAK you Figgins. You’ll have forced my hand and my hand remains steady…unwavering and FIRM. I’ll strike you down and treat you like the BITCH you’ve become accustomed to being. Rethink shit Figgy it’s your move.”Cracking my neck and rotating my wrists to loosen up I grabbed my signature pack of cigarettes lighting one up blowing smoke at the camera lens par usual for one Axle not AXEL Vengeance.“I’m sure plenty of plotting and plenty of work has been going on between Hunter and Jacob. Trying to work every angle and think of every possible scenario to be played out at Battlegrounds. It’ll end the same way regardless of their attempts. Week in and week out motherfuckers love to doubt me. All the haters get together and run their mouths about how I cant do it anymore. I’m losing steam. I’m not strong enough, fast enough, or clever enough anymore to get the wins that I used to. To them all I say is I’ve achieved gold in IWF now what? I’m still the man to beat in this business and everyone wants a shot at me. You’ve heard what the people in this company have already said about me being nothing short of a BEAST in this business. You know why that is? Cause I’m the fucking great white shark in this sea and everyone wants to catch me. I look at all my opponents and I tell each and every one of them to come at me and come at me with everything you’ve got. Chances are everything you got won’t be enough but if you don’t come at me like that then the probability of you being able to walk out of that ring on your own to feet are slim to none.
There have been comments thrown about over and over again this week from Figgins and I know he’ll be trying to make this match into a joke but yet trying to keep his cool and claiming that I’m nothing, that I’m slipping. Well Figgins I suggest you find something new to say. Everyone that faces off against me suggests that I’m somehow slipping from my old form. To be honest they only say that because it’s all just wishful thinking. They hope to the man or myth above that I’ve somehow lost a step because then just maybe then they might have a chance to beat me. Well Figgy I’m primed and ready to go and come Battlegrounds while you’re busy loading up your squirting flower with water I’ll be smacking you across the face and shoving my fist down your throat. Continue your little Krusty the Clown routine and I’ll continue my beat the fuck out of you routine. Planning and strategy only can carry you so far. What happens when Ace and I crack your skulls? That’s when the plan goes out the windows and you’ve got nothing but a FIGHT on your hands fellas. I’m prepared to fire are you? Or do you plan on taking cover and hiding in the corner begging for it all to stop? It makes no difference to me because at the end of the night I am coming out swinging and going for the fences.
The people will cheer for them to take down the big bad Asshole Vengeance. But come on let’s get real here people neither of them are even close to being considered to be on my level by any stretch of the imagination. They can’t hang with me and I don’t give one iota what these people think and if they say otherwise. The truth is the TRUTH.”Standing up from the sitting position I flicked my cigarette across the room and flipped my hair once again.“HFF has proved itself to be the most long standing and dominate group EVER in the history of professional wrestling. What makes some halfwit tag team with a name like G.O.D think they can come in and dispel that notion? HFF demands respect, you don’t think we’ve earned it or you don’t think we deserve it? Then come in the ring and TAKE it from us. I dare ya…
I’ve done everything in my power to establish myself as a force in this business. I’ve fought the best and gone toe to toe with legends of the ring. Sometimes things haven’t fallen my way. There have been times where the odds have been ever so greatly stacked against me. I’ve faltered before and I’ve fallen. Yet here I stand before the world a man that has MADE it. I’m a man that has come from nothing and MADE himself the man that he is today. I’ve spent years honing my craft and perfecting my trade. I refuse to let some out of shape windbag come in and ruin all that I’ve worked to achieve. My greatness needs to be measured by an ocean. Hunter Sullivan will not but a stain on this legacy and legendary career. It will not happen. I won’t let it. You don’t get to just roll out of bed one day and decide that it’s time for HFF to pay for what they did to you years ago. It doesn’t get to happen like that, not on my watch. So many people aspire to be like me and so many people wish to achieve levels of greatness that I’ve already achieved. Hunter you struggle to wipe your own ass. What makes you think you belong in the ring with a man like myself? Let alone a man like Ace Static? Fuck you. Fuck you for thinking you belong. We showed you exactly where you belong the night we gave you the boot both physically and figuratively. It’s time for you to take a long hard look in the mirror Hunter. Look at the man you’ve become and realize you stand NO chance whatsoever in beating us. Even with the special needs partner Jacob Figgins to distract us with his retardation…you have ZERO chance of winning. When you stand in the ring with GIANTS like Ace and I our shadows make you invisible. Come try and make a stand but when the dust settles and the match has finished it’ll end just the way it did on that fateful night…
This is a land of GIANTS and you’ve stepped into our world. Waking us up from a slumber. Hunter Sullivan we thought we were rid of you. Guess it’s time to finish what we started. So for now sit back relax enjoy the show. I’m sure it’ll be fun. This weeks lesson involves the idea of knowing when to call it quits. Hunter wanted this fight and Hunter, you will not escape this fate. I’m the fucking executioner. I’m calling this the final act in our little feud. Come Battlegrounds let’s see if you’ve got the sack to come down to the ring and meet your maker. Come down to the ring and get executed by yours truly. It’s time you’ve paid for showing your face and attempting to speak out against HFF. You attempted to become recognized by siding with us we kicked you to the curb and now you’ve comeback for more…this doesn’t end well for you at all. The GIANTS have awoken fee-fi-fo-fum Hunter we smell the blood…oh the blood, oh the blood, oh the massacre…”Walking away from the camera I continued on my way. Something told me that Hunter and Figgins would be severely beaten by my hands. I had the need for violence. Samuel didn’t allow my thirst to be quenched. I was thirsty as FUCK and GOD’s blood was exactly what I needed.>-|END|-< | |
| | | | The Propaganda
Posts : 69
Join date : 2012-12-24
Age : 36
Wrestler Stats
IWF Record: 0-0-0
Alignment:
| | Subject: Re: Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] Sun Feb 10, 2013 11:54 pm | |
| - Virgil Keenan wrote:
Pt 2. The Divine collision.
Hunter removes his Tool hoodie, wrapping it around the back of his chair. We're now at a startling juxtaposition of the former bar, things are quiet, it's night time and the late night coffee store rings tranquility. Figgy is reluctant but he sits down, lacey sits between the two of them, a well needed mediator. A light indie hit plays throughout the speakers as a man walks by and asks if they want to order anything, a restaurant-hang out-coffee-gimmick in the middle of the city? Nice find. Hunter passes up, not a coffee drinker, looking to get to the point. Jacob ignores the man, glaring with untrusting eyes at his former tag team partner. There is an awkward silence as the waiter backs off, realizing he's not needed in the slightest.
Jacob: "You fucking Broke my arm! You Antediluvian Miscreant!"
Lacey's eyes bulge as the first words out of Jacob's mouth are inclined to start a riot between the two. People around jump at the sudden crash, the waiter turns around with a concerned look on his face.
Lacey: "Sorry, sorry, it won't happen again, I promise, right Jacob? Right?"
Jacob: "Sure, yeah, whatever....not that he'd do anything about it."
Figgin's glare doesn't for even a moment divert from the aptly named Viper. He knows who he's dealing with, Hunter took him out of action on the mere whims of his own benefit. Sullivan glares back, sharing the same intensified look, sputtering out a retort.
Hunter: "Yeah, I know I did. And maybe, just maybe, if you weren't such a little bi- Err... hmm.. eh, yeah. yeah okay I did. It was a rather stupid thing for me to do. I get that. I'm trying to make amends here."
Hunter fights his natural impulse, clenching his fist under the table.
Jacob: "Oh yeah? Sure."
Hunter leans back and sighs.
Hunter: "Look, I get it, we've fought more times than we ever tagged up, we've choked each other out more times than we've shook each other's hands, we have a rough past and I acknowledge that. The point is I'm trying to make amends here dude..."
Jacob: "Why? So you can see your sniveling brat again?"
Hunter clenched fist finds it's way above the table, seething from the response, a venomous spurt of anger bellows in his mouth, bubbling. Lacey gives Jacob a scornful look, expecting an all out brawl here in a moment for the second time, Sullivan however merely stays quiet, speaking up momentarily.
Hunter: "Yeah, something like that. He's almost 7 now you know?"
Figgy raises an eyebrow, he's a little confused. He watches the clenched fist dissipate. His uncharacteristic comment was meant to prove his point, incite the expected response.
Jacob: "I... wait what? you've maybe seen the kid 10 times in your entire life, and now you suddenly care if he's 7? What, I... the fuck."
Jacob is completely caught off guard, something actually is different, he didn't snap, he didn't curse, he didn't flip the table even. His untrusting nature turns into curiosity.
Hunter: "Well, I've had a lot of time to think. Like, I've been out of the ring for a while, and that really kind of changed me. For the longest time I'd go day in and day out trying to be this perfect wrestler obtaining some unfeasible goal. I was living out a dream I had when I was 14. It was everything I cared about, it was the entirety of my existence. In its absents, well, I've had time to myself that didn't involve how much I hate Jamie Flynn or Shadow Star. I started to regret a few things I had done. People I've ignored."
Jacob leans forward on the table, taking in a breath and what was just said.
Jacob: "So through your entirety of life, being a jack ass, double crossing people, cheating on your wife, skipping birthdays to work out, you've finally hit a conscious. Cute. So you're coming to me now why? To say sorry? I didn't mean to break your arm, I didn't try to fuck up our tag team so I could try and run the Pantheon? Which turned out great by the way, how's the leg?"
Hunter diverts his glare for a moment.
Hunter: "Being out of the ring has given me time to recuperate. It's fine. In fact I was kind of hoping to get back into the ring. I challenged Raizzor and told him that it'd be the last AOWF match I'd compete in... So now I'm looking elsewhere. "
Jacob shakes his head in disgust.
Jacob: "Go back to the thing that broke you, turned you into some insensitive freak? I've seen what you've turned into before. If you're trying to change, this is the last option you should be indulging. You're an idiot. Also, did you expect me to give a good word for you in IWF, I'm on my way of becoming a champion there and you figure you could sneak a contract out if we became buds again? Is that what's going on? Perhaps you can join the Empire, tag team up with Ace Static and those guys again. Just like old times eh?"
Hunter sits and listens, taking in the entire critique he had deserved.
Hunter: "Do you remember when we lost to The Souljahz? Tag belts and all."
Jacob fires back a cock eyed look.
Jacob: "And we went out, you taped two forties to your hands and went around calling yourself Edward forty hands?
Hunter nods, leaning back, he's got a point to make.
Hunter: "Yeah, do you remember what I did when I lost to Jethro, lost my IC title?"
Jacob folds his arms not very amused with where this is going.
Jacob: "You broke everything in the hotel and went to the gym for 5 hours."
Sullivan nods again as Jacob scoffs to himself.
Hunter: "Exactly. You seeing the difference here."
Figgy shakes his head.
Jacob: "You're shitting me right?"
Hunter: "I'm not, Jacob, it's a depressing thought, but you're my best friend, and you hate me. You managed to keep me from spiraling down the hole I eventually ended up in. I need to fix myself, and I'm looking for help, from you. I'm not looking to join any Empire, to look either of those faggots in the face again. I simply want to start over, I want to finish what I ruined. I want to resurrect G.O.D ."
Lacey fires in her lovely manger voice.
Lacey: "No one says you can't have two belts Figgy."
She smiles trying to pry on the competitor within him.
Hunter: "Not even that, Figgy, the pinnacle of your career, the best Jacob Figgins that ever wrestled was when we were crippling punks as a team. I kept you on the path, and you kept me from drowning on it. I need your help, and I think you need mine."
Hunter and Lacey look expectedly, seeing the gears and ideas flicker throughout his head. Jacob looks back at both of them, irked and irritated. He fights against his inner impulses.
Jacob: ".....I hate both of you."
Hunter stands up, extending his hand, he knows what that means.
Jacob mimics the movement, shaking his hand, he however doesn't let go, glaring Hunter in the face.
Jacob: "One singular wrong move, and will not hesitate to kick your ass. Again."
Sullivan chuckles a moment, winking.
Hunter: "No problem, Partner."
Lacey clapped her hands together in glee as she sees the team finally getting along
Lacey: "Great! Ice cream is on me."
Hunter and Fig stare eachother down and nod
Hunter & Fig: "It better be freakin' cookie dough"
-Bred a wrestler.-
I glare across the ring at my sparring partner, the trainer lets out a yelp for us to begin and I sloppily blitzkrieg the beginning battle. Upon hooking his leg for a Single legged takedown I find myself being choked out and pushed downward. The skilled counter blocks off my breathing, his forearm crushing my throat, but I’ve got to think clear, fight the watery eyes and divert to brute strength. I stomp my feet solid and firm against the mat, the heels of my feet hurt, and I plow upward, toppling my training partner in a northern lights suplex. It’s not my greatest form, I hold the bridge, but my back is sore, my knee’s are weak, I roll out of it, I back up to a corner, I feign a smile, I pretend I’m okay. This is my fourth sparring partner today, the rest have worn themselves out, they’ve gone home or simply lost interest in getting smeared into the canvas over and over, but I’m slipping up. A blitzkrieg? Really? Stupid choice. 5 hours training took it’s toll 2 hours ago, now? Now I’m just being stupid, risking injury.
Back into a elbow collar tie up, my hair finds itself glued to my forehead and my head is throbbing in the heat and sweat building and building up, I wrench the arm and drive an elbow down, putting all my weight into pressing him into the ground. He fight’s it and even succeeds, my attempt at a fujiwara is foiled and I’m flipped onto my back, it stings. My breath is dissipating on me, but I swirl to my feet, an armdrag, I’m fighting for control against a rookie? I realize he’s either got a lot of potential or...Ugh, my head hurts. I don’t realize it at the time but I’m just standing there now, he takes time to capitalize and drops me with a DDT. I don’t feel any of it anymore, all I can do is visualize on the throbbing ceiling lights. My opponent does a smart pin, something to break me down, but I don’t kick out, I just lay there. He’s confused by it as well, I can see it in his eyes when he asks me if I’m okay. I’m not. I’m dizzy. I gurgle and I throw up. I don’t turn, I don’t move, it bubbles in my mouth with an acidic taste that doesn’t spring me to life. I close my eyes and I fade.
“Do you want to win?” The voice echoes out of the blackness and I cry back, soggy tears of teenaged youth ring out instead of my own adult voice. “Yes.”
“Then stand back up and try again.” The rough tone of an elderly man shoots back at me and the familiarity shoots me in the heart. “Okay dad.” The glowing black aura of my memory focuses as I will myself back to my feet. My heel’s hurt, my back is sore, my head is throbbing, and I swing a fist at the padded glove in his hand. He disapproves “How weak, it feels foreign and sloppy, your form is off, no torque, no force behind it, it’s a punch thrown in desperation.”
I know. You taught me this already.
“Okay.” Is the only reply I can muster, almost as if scripted to say it, his constant criticism brings up a fire and a rage, I throw the next punch how I know I should, with a purpose, with a goal, solid, firm. He smiles and it bounces off my already broken mentality. I fire another, same response, I’ve lost my mind and found my instinct.
“That’s it, let go, find the inner animal and control it, find your focus, your drive.” The only bit of praise I’ve heard in years and I fucking ignore it. I’m lost in my memory.
I remember how I felt that day and it shoots through me like a searing arrow, bringing back the emotions in such clarity that if I had time to really understand my situation, I’d be scared. I see him whipping me with a belt when I was younger, It was my first taste of his assertive and stubborn nature, he didn’t hit me because he was drunk, or anything cliché, it was because I deserved it. I didn’t try hard enough, I didn’t put my best foot forward, I didn’t do my best and as a result I was conditioned back in line. I come back into focus, firing the punches in rapid succession with him telling me to stop and that I’ve done good. I gawk blankly at his face and he smirks. It's the same smirk I'd later adapt myself, it’s the same smile. He places his hands on my shoulders, and I remember when he shoved me into the closet wall, breaking the door; I had cheated on my math test. He hated cheaters.
I hate cheaters.
He’s giving me praise and saying he loves me, he does. He did his best to mould me into the man I became, but all I hear, all I can remember is his constant lectures after each of my failures. I remember not understanding, I remember a fiery rage and hatred. I remember staring at him that day and attacking.
I blitzkrieg him, I shoot the leg. He grabs me around the throat and pushes me down, my eyes tear up, I cry, but I summon my strength, digging my heels in, tossing him in a northern lights suplex, no pin. I spin on my heels and when he gets back up I punch him solid in the face, with a goal, with a purpose, and it floors him. He grasps his face and I mount him, punch after punch and punch again. Every bit of it is therapeutic, the vengeful, spiteful, angry wrestler I became was born that day.
“Stop it, get off him!”
What?
“Get off him!”
I stop, my eyes are agape, the rookie is beneath me and I’m covered in blood and vomit. My vomit, his blood. I’m pulled off the kid, I give no resistance as the realities and blurred focus start hitting me all at once. I remember what brought me here, I remember my principles, my lessons, my rage, my life and my father. I smile.
I stare at the rookie as he holds his likely broken nose. I smirk his smile.
Some people, some culture I don’t know the name of, would like to call this type of moment spiritual. It would be obtained and observed after long trips through the woods or taking some sort of drug, I got here with some sort of heat stroke or something, imagine that.
No one wants to be a competitor, no one wants to be a wrestler.
But that’s the only thing I was ever supposed to be. The only thing I ever wanted.
-A wrestler will always win.-
-Open, flash, camera rolls. Hunter Sullivan stands smirking ear to ear in the most smuggest manner imaginable. The Viper's surroundings are the things of nightmares, Jacob Figgin's basement. Surrounding him are punk rock posters, viking metal band cd's, a raggity old punching bag, and a bunch of beer bottles collecting dust. Why a promo here? Well that's where he lives now, why not?-
"On a recent edition of this find product, Axle Vengence recently said that HFF has always been just three people, Ace, Drake, and himself."
-The smirk maintains its sturdy foundation but an amused sigh escapes his breath.-
"How amusing."
"It's okay, I get it, I like to forget that I was ever part of your band of misfits too, I'll let it slip. The problem however rests on the sad truth that while I wish to forget it, it doesn't change that I was. I suppose everything has it's silver linings however, because today I get to stand upon my holy throne and lay upon you all the verbal decimation, a lyrical genocide, IWF has yet seen. I've battled by your side long enough to know your tactics, your mentality, your moves, and your idealisms. It's through that I predict one fucking hell of a debut."
"Consider that my topic sentence assholes."
-I move around, pushing Figgy's Guinness bottles out of the way as I do, grunting at the mess. He could have at least cleaned up before I moved in.-
"Let's start with Ace shall we? He has raped, murdered, maimed, beaten, black mailed, been a junkie, caused divorces, and, of course, died. Which is an awful lot of things to have happen to a guy. Especially considering in the realm of mortals half of that would have you locked up and getting it the ass by some guy named Earl. See, Sal is the epitome of what some people might be inclined to call him, which is an attention seeking whore. If poor ol' cast out reject Sal here isn't in the center of some sort of dramatic event, then he just isn't happy, not that the emo cunt is ever actually happy."
"Something about a shitty childhood and a dead sister or something."
"Crybaby."
-That should entice a few wounds, but really, who pities Static?-
"I digress, Ace is the type of guy who yearns to tell you his life story, he'll find whatever manner he can to tell you that he's different, that his tattoos and hair cut, his clothes, his history, have always set him out from the pact, he's always had trouble fitting in. He'll then start telling you all about how he'll beat you up, fuck your girlfriend, and kill your dog, and he loves it. Ace goes from one over the top thing to another over the top thing screaming 'Look at me.' "woe is me." He's got the mentality of a 14 year old girl."
"Do you cut yourself too Faggot?"
"It's a character trait of his that I never shared. I've never shared it because it's fucking pathetic. Ace Static is Pathetic. He's a soap opera actor who got lost. Yet, he'll continually tell us all how great he is, how great HFF Is, but really, seriously, how does a man like him, like Ace Static have an inkling of a chance against someone like us. A man who browses TMZ in his free time, or someone like me, who breaks punk ass whiny cunts in half in his free time?"
-I fold my arms expectantly, I've been there, seen it, suffered in silence as HFF bastardized wrestling-
"I always preferred to be the straight man, I shoot, I speak, skull fuck your pitiful tag team. That's my duty, that's what I do, and upon doing it, I don't need the screaming reactions of harsh jeers, or some tabloid rumors to get to sleep at night. All I ever need to know, is that I'm a Wrestler, and I love it. I do it because I'm a competitor, I thrive on competition. I am not poisoned by your trivial cries for attention. As a result, when I used to beat up on punks like Vincent Palmer, and Corey Bull, I didn't need to call them Niggers, or set of some chain of death threats and murders to do it. I also say that last part, 'murders', with an over reaching stench of sarcasm."
"After all, Ace was dead once, and Axle Killed him."
"Yup, that seems to be holding up these days. Long live HFF."
-I mime a salute, rolling my eyes and scoffing out my sarcasm.-
"So yeah, when I was tearing UECW's roster a new asshole, notably against number one contenders for your belt Ace, well you got a little scared of me didn't you? Rightfully so, the first instant I got the chance I was going to humble your sorry ass. So not only did I know I was superior, you knew it. So obviously, being the whimps you guys are, HFF kicked my ass, and put me on a brand new show, far away from yourself. Then, and this is the kicker, you ran away. Not simply run away either, you freight trained yourself as far away from me as possible, putting so many obstacles between me and you as humanly imaginable, so much so that you left UECW."
"And died."
"You fucking coward."
"It's okay to think I'm better than you are Ace, that is simply a fact of life, but you didn't have to make it so obvious, you didn't need to hide, you didn't even need to fake your death, and you sure as hell didn't need to steal my moniker. Black mumba my ass, you don't deserve the title."
"Except there is no running away now. There are no 3 on 1 attacks... not unfair advantages, no title belts on the line, no UECW, just simple exhibition, and it's here that I garner the ability to finally implode your face. So please, don't try and kill yourself on the way to the building this time. I don't know how many more excuses I can take."
-I fold my arms, sharing a smug look of confidence that oozes and slimes arrogance. My specialty.-
"On the other side of the coin, we have Vengeance over here, the man with Alex Remington's cum dried up and collecting on ever shirt he owns. See, I never personally dealt with Axle a lot before, he was always kind of in the shadows, sighing and nodding at Ace's ludicrous ideas and over the top sense for the dramatics. So I guess I shouldn't be so surprised to see him in the empire doing it with Corey and Alex all over, and all anew. See, I've watched a scatter bit of the last PPV, and what I saw was a bunch of men, who have historically run rampages over federations, doing what they do best, causing shit, getting the job done, one way or another. Personally, I was thinking as I watched it, same old shit new place. I wasn't exactly jeering, I didn't exactly care, that is up until the ending."
"The part where HFF bent over and took it right in the ass."
-I questionably mime the action with my hands. It's awkward.-
"So I pose this inquiry to both of you, but you particularly Axle."
"Did you ever wonder what happened to wrestlers?"
-I hope they realize that's rhetorical, dumbasses.-
"I have."
"Once upon a time Axle, men and women wrestled for themselves, they wrestled under the pretense that at the end of the day, perhaps they could be the best. They competed in competitions to determine who amongst them was superior, who through all their training, all their practice and dedication, would end up on top. That is what we do on a fundamentally basic level, we come in here, into the IWF or whatever federation, and we try to win, we try to defeat, we try to become champion."
"Not to steal more words from your own fucking mouth, but we're here to fight for 'the most esteemed and powerful championship in all of professional wrestling '."
"Welp, so much for that load of shit, right Axle? Why bare all that weight and stress, why even mingle with the idea! Sure, you can take it easy, back attacks, sneak attacks, follow an order of two. Throw away the competitive nature, the spirit, and the childhood dreams and go up to Corey and tell him you'd like another round of Cock. Because God forbid you actually take a chance, and see if your better than Alex. And to think in a recent promotional piece Ace went as far as to claim you guys weren't into the Blow-Job method. I guess he spoke too soon, eh?"
"I know your kind, just rest your head, close your weary eyes, don't fret, someone else will surely do it for you."
"A Hunter Sullivan, Or Jacob Figgins perhaps."
-shurg-
"See Axle, when you decided you'd play second fiddle, when you decided that instead of becoming a champion, becoming this federations top dog, when you decided that being the best was no longer a priority, you tossed away your wrestler namesake. You tossed it out, shat on it, pissed all over it. In its stead, taking it's alternative, you choose to replace your label with 'Apathetic." A term synonymous with failure, loser, and weak. I'm starting to wonder in fact Axle, if you're just trying to blend in with the crowd now, jump on the band wagon, and hope no one noticed that your slipping up. It makes sense, toss a veil over the wound, and perhaps no one will notice you're hurt, not as good as you were once."
"It's only a theory, but hey, last solo match you had, without using a crutch, some empire member, Ace here even, you tapped out like a little piss-ant bitch."
"Really now Axle, you're almost getting as bad as Damien, and we all know he's a fucking useless pussy."
-Truth-
"The problem here is evident, Figgy lives his days as an artist, perhaps a little overabundant on the drinking, but he moves around, hoping, pleading with his own skill not to grow stagnant. I've lived a life of discipline and focus, where wrestling has been a priority, I've consistently never been okay with my current level of being, reaching to obtain the next level, because I'm a wrestler."
"Those are traits you both lack, It's why I never fit in, it's why when you beat down a woman tied to a chair, i sat in the kitchen glaring at Aces' World title. It's why when you all played little games on your social networks, I had my own opinions. It's why in the end you all removed me, because we're different."
"It's because I'm better than you."
-Palm the camera.-
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Guest
| | Subject: Re: Hunter Sullivan and Jacob Figgins [vs.] Hollywood’s Fucking Finest [Axle Vengeance and Ace Static] Mon Feb 11, 2013 12:08 am | |
| Pt 2. The Devine collision. Hunter removes his Tool hoodie, wrapping it around the back of his chair. We're now at a startling juxtaposition of the former bar, things are quiet, it's night time and the late night coffee store rings tranquility. Figgy is reluctant but he sits down, lacey sits between the two of them, a well needed mediator. A light indie hit plays throughout the speakers as a man walks by and asks if they want to order anything, a restaurant-hang out-coffee-gimmick in the middle of the city? Nice find. Hunter passes up, not a coffee drinker, looking to get to the point. Jacob ignores the man, glaring with untrusting eyes at his former tag team partner. There is an awkward silence as the waiter backs off, realizing he's not needed in the slightest. Jacob: "You fucking Broke my arm! You Antediluvian Miscreant!"Lacey's eyes bulge as the first words out of Jacob's mouth are inclined to start a riot between the two. People around jump at the sudden crash, the waiter turns around with a concerned look on his face.
Lacey: "Sorry, sorry, it won't happen again, I promise, right Jacob? Right?"Jacob: "Sure, yeah, whatever....not that he'd do anything about it."Figgin's glare doesn't for even a moment divert from the aptly named Viper. He knows who he's dealing with, Hunter took him out of action on the mere whims of his own benefit. Sullivan glares back, sharing the same intensified look, sputtering out a retort.
Hunter: "Yeah, I know I did. And maybe, just maybe, if you weren't such a little bi- Err... hmm.. eh, yeah. yeah okay I did. It was a rather stupid thing for me to do. I get that. I'm trying to make amends here."Hunter fights his natural impulse, clenching his fist under the table. Jacob: "Oh yeah? Sure."Hunter leans back and sighs.
Hunter: "Look, I get it, we've fought more times than we ever tagged up, we've choked each other out more times than we've shook each other's hands, we have a rough past and I acknowledge that. The point is I'm trying to make amends here dude..."
Jacob: "Why? So you can see your sniveling brat again?"Hunter clenched fist finds it's way above the table, seething from the response, a venomous spurt of anger bellows in his mouth, bubbling. Lacey gives Jacob a scornful look, expecting an all out brawl here in a moment for the second time, Sullivan however merely stays quiet, speaking up momentarily.
Hunter: "Yeah, something like that. He's almost 7 now you know?"Figgy raises an eyebrow, he's a little confused. He watches the clenched fist dissipate. His uncharacteristic comment was meant to prove his point, incite the expected response.
Jacob: "I... wait what? you've maybe seen the kid 10 times in your entire life, and now you suddenly care if he's 7? What, I... the fuck."Jacob is completely caught off guard, something actually is different, he didn't snap, he didn't curse, he didn't flip the table even. His untrusting nature turns into curiosity.
Hunter: "Well, I've had a lot of time to think. Like, I've been out of the ring for a while, and that really kind of changed me. For the longest time I'd go day in and day out trying to be this perfect wrestler obtaining some unfeasible goal. I was living out a dream I had when I was 14. It was everything I cared about, it was the entirety of my existence. In its absents, well, I've had time to myself that didn't involve how much I hate Jamie Flynn or Shadow Star. I started to regret a few things I had done. People I've ignored."Jacob leans forward on the table, taking in a breath and what was just said.
Jacob: "So through your entirety of life, being a jack ass, double crossing people, cheating on your wife, skipping birthdays to work out, you've finally hit a conscious. Cute. So you're coming to me now why? To say sorry? I didn't mean to break your arm, I didn't try to fuck up our tag team so I could try and run the Pantheon? Which turned out great by the way, how's the leg?"
Hunter diverts his glare for a moment.
Hunter: "Being out of the ring has given me time to recuperate. It's fine. In fact I was kind of hoping to get back into the ring. I challenged Raizzor and told him that it'd be the last AOWF match I'd compete in... So now I'm looking elsewhere. "
Jacob shakes his head in disgust.
Jacob: "Go back to the thing that broke you, turned you into some insensitive freak? I've seen what you've turned into before. If you're trying to change, this is the last option you should be indulging. You're an idiot. Also, did you expect me to give a good word for you in IWF, I'm on my way of becoming a champion there and you figure you could sneak a contract out if we became buds again? Is that what's going on? Perhaps you can join the Empire, tag team up with Ace Static and those guys again. Just like old times eh?"
Hunter sits and listens, taking in the entire critique he had deserved.
Hunter: "Do you remember when we lost to The Souljahz? Tag belts and all."Jacob fires back a cock eyed look. Jacob: "And we went out, you taped two forties to your hands and went around calling yourself Edward forty hands? Hunter nods, leaning back, he's got a point to make. Hunter: "Yeah, do you remember what I did when I lost to Jethro, lost my IC title?"Jacob folds his arms not very amused with where this is going. Jacob: "You broke everything in the hotel and went to the gym for 5 hours."Sullivan nods again as Jacob scoffs to himself.
Hunter: "Exactly. You seeing the difference here."Figgy shakes his head. Jacob: "You're shitting me right?"
Hunter: "I'm not, Jacob, it's a depressing thought, but you're my best friend, and you hate me. You managed to keep me from spiraling down the hole I eventually ended up in. I need to fix myself, and I'm looking for help, from you. I'm not looking to join any Empire, to look either of those faggots in the face again. I simply want to start over, I want to finish what I ruined. I want to resurrect G.O.D ."
Lacey fires in her lovely manger voice. Lacey: "No one says you can't have two belts Figgy."
She smiles trying to pry on the competitor within him.
Hunter: "Not even that, Figgy, the pinnacle of your career, the best Jacob Figgins that ever wrestled was when we were crippling punks as a team. I kept you on the path, and you kept me from drowning on it. I need your help, and I think you need mine."Hunter and Lacey look expectedly, seeing the gears and ideas flicker throughout his head. Jacob looks back at both of them, irked and irritated. He fights against his inner impulses. Jacob: ".....I hate both of you."Hunter stands up, extending his hand, he knows what that means. Jacob mimics the movement, shaking his hand, he however doesn't let go, glaring Hunter in the face. Jacob: "One singular wrong move, and will not hesitate to kick your ass. Again." Sullivan chuckles a moment, winking. Hunter: "No problem, Partner."Lacey clapped her hands together in glee as she sees the team finally getting along
Lacey: "Great! Ice cream is on me."
Hunter and Fig stare eachother down and nod Hunter & Fig: "It better be freakin' cookie dough"
-Bred a wrestler.-
I glare across the ring at my sparring partner, the trainer lets out a yelp for us to begin and I sloppily blitzkrieg the beginning battle. Upon hooking his leg for a Single legged takedown I find myself being choked out and pushed downward. The skilled counter blocks off my breathing, his forearm crushing my throat, but I’ve got to think clear, fight the watery eyes and divert to brute strength. I stomp my feet solid and firm against the mat, the heels of my feet hurt, and I plow upward, toppling my training partner in a northern lights suplex. It’s not my greatest form, I hold the bridge, but my back is sore, my knee’s are weak, I roll out of it, I back up to a corner, I feign a smile, I pretend I’m okay. This is my fourth sparring partner today, the rest have worn themselves out, they’ve gone home or simply lost interest in getting smeared into the canvas over and over, but I’m slipping up. A blitzkrieg? Really? Stupid choice. 5 hours training took it’s toll 2 hours ago, now? Now I’m just being stupid, risking injury. Back into a elbow collar tie up, my hair finds itself glued to my forehead and my head is throbbing in the heat and sweat building and building up, I wrench the arm and drive an elbow down, putting all my weight into pressing him into the ground. He fight’s it and even succeeds, my attempt at a fujiwara is foiled and I’m flipped onto my back, it stings. My breath is dissipating on me, but I swirl to my feet, an armdrag, I’m fighting for control against a rookie? I realize he’s either got a lot of potential or...Ugh, my head hurts. I don’t realize it at the time but I’m just standing there now, he takes time to capitalize and drops me with a DDT. I don’t feel any of it anymore, all I can do is visualize on the throbbing ceiling lights. My opponent does a smart pin, something to break me down, but I don’t kick out, I just lay there. He’s confused by it as well, I can see it in his eyes when he asks me if I’m okay. I’m not. I’m dizzy. I gurgle and I throw up. I don’t turn, I don’t move, it bubbles in my mouth with an acidic taste that doesn’t spring me to life. I close my eyes and I fade. “Do you want to win?” The voice echoes out of the blackness and I cry back, soggy tears of teenaged youth ring out instead of my own adult voice. “Yes.”
“Then stand back up and try again.” The rough tone of an elderly man shoots back at me and the familiarity shoots me in the heart. “Okay dad.” The glowing black aura of my memory focuses as I will myself back to my feet. My heel’s hurt, my back is sore, my head is throbbing, and I swing a fist at the padded glove in his hand. He disapproves “How weak, it feels foreign and sloppy, your form is off, no torque, no force behind it, it’s a punch thrown in desperation.”I know. You taught me this already. “Okay.” Is the only reply I can muster, almost as if scripted to say it, his constant criticism brings up a fire and a rage, I throw the next punch how I know I should, with a purpose, with a goal, solid, firm. He smiles and it bounces off my already broken mentality. I fire another, same response, I’ve lost my mind and found my instinct. “That’s it, let go, find the inner animal and control it, find your focus, your drive.” The only bit of praise I’ve heard in years and I fucking ignore it. I’m lost in my memory. I remember how I felt that day and it shoots through me like a searing arrow, bringing back the emotions in such clarity that if I had time to really understand my situation, I’d be scared. I see him whipping me with a belt when I was younger, It was my first taste of his assertive and stubborn nature, he didn’t hit me because he was drunk, or anything cliché, it was because I deserved it. I didn’t try hard enough, I didn’t put my best foot forward, I didn’t do my best and as a result I was conditioned back in line. I come back into focus, firing the punches in rapid succession with him telling me to stop and that I’ve done good. I gawk blankly at his face and he smirks. It's the same smirk I'd later adapt myself, it’s the same smile. He places his hands on my shoulders, and I remember when he shoved me into the closet wall, breaking the door; I had cheated on my math test. He hated cheaters. I hate cheaters. He’s giving me praise and saying he loves me, he does. He did his best to mould me into the man I became, but all I hear, all I can remember is his constant lectures after each of my failures. I remember not understanding, I remember a fiery rage and hatred. I remember staring at him that day and attacking. I blitzkrieg him, I shoot the leg. He grabs me around the throat and pushes me down, my eyes tear up, I cry, but I summon my strength, digging my heels in, tossing him in a northern lights suplex, no pin. I spin on my heels and when he gets back up I punch him solid in the face, with a goal, with a purpose, and it floors him. He grasps his face and I mount him, punch after punch and punch again. Every bit of it is therapeutic, the vengeful, spiteful, angry wrestler I became was born that day. “Stop it, get off him!”What?
“Get off him!” I stop, my eyes are agape, the rookie is beneath me and I’m covered in blood and vomit. My vomit, his blood. I’m pulled off the kid, I give no resistance as the realities and blurred focus start hitting me all at once. I remember what brought me here, I remember my principles, my lessons, my rage, my life and my father. I smile. I stare at the rookie as he holds his likely broken nose. I smirk his smile.
Some people, some culture I don’t know the name of, would like to call this type of moment spiritual. It would be obtained and observed after long trips through the woods or taking some sort of drug, I got here with some sort of heat stroke or something, imagine that. No one wants to be a competitor, no one wants to be a wrestler. But that’s the only thing I was ever supposed to be. The only thing I ever wanted.
-A wrestler will always win.-
-Open, flash, camera rolls. Hunter Sullivan stands smirking ear to ear in the most smuggest manner imaginable. The Viper's surroundings are the things of nightmares, Jacob Figgin's basement. Surrounding him are punk rock posters, viking metal band cd's, a raggity old punching bag, and a bunch of beer bottles collecting dust. Why a promo here? Well that's where he lives now, why not?-
"On a recent edition of this find product, Axle Vengence recently said that HFF has always been just three people, Ace, Drake, and himself."
-The smirk maintains its sturdy foundation but an amused sigh escapes his breath.-
"How amusing."
"It's okay, I get it, I like to forget that I was ever part of your band of misfits too, I'll let it slip. The problem however rests on the sad truth that while I wish to forget it, it doesn't change that I was. I suppose everything has it's silver linings however, because today I get to stand upon my holy throne and lay upon you all the verbal decimation, a lyrical genocide, IWF has yet seen. I've battled by your side long enough to know your tactics, your mentality, your moves, and your idealisms. It's through that I predict one fucking hell of a debut."
"Consider that my topic sentence assholes."
-I move around, pushing Figgy's Guinness bottles out of the way as I do, grunting at the mess. He could have at least cleaned up before I moved in.-
"Let's start with Ace shall we? He has raped, murdered, maimed, beaten, black mailed, been a junkie, caused divorces, and, of course, died. Which is an awful lot of things to have happen to a guy. Especially considering in the realm of mortals half of that would have you locked up and getting it the ass by some guy named Earl. See, Sal is the epitome of what some people might be inclined to call him, which is an attention seeking whore. If poor ol' cast out reject Sal here isn't in the center of some sort of dramatic event, then he just isn't happy, not that the emo cunt is ever actually happy."
"Something about a shitty childhood and a dead sister or something."
"Crybaby."
-That should entice a few wounds, but really, who pities Static?-
"I digress, Ace is the type of guy who yearns to tell you his life story, he'll find whatever manner he can to tell you that he's different, that his tattoos and hair cut, his clothes, his history, have always set him out from the pact, he's always had trouble fitting in. He'll then start telling you all about how he'll beat you up, fuck your girlfriend, and kill your dog, and he loves it. Ace goes from one over the top thing to another over the top thing screaming 'Look at me.' "woe is me." He's got the mentality of a 14 year old girl."
"Do you cut yourself too Faggot?"
"It's a character trait of his that I never shared. I've never shared it because it's fucking pathetic. Ace Static is Pathetic. He's a soap opera actor who got lost. Yet, he'll continually tell us all how great he is, how great HFF Is, but really, seriously, how does a man like him, like Ace Static have an inkling of a chance against someone like us. A man who browses TMZ in his free time, or someone like me, who breaks punk ass whiny cunts in half in his free time?"
-I fold my arms expectantly, I've been there, seen it, suffered in silence as HFF bastardized wrestling-
"I always preferred to be the straight man, I shoot, I speak, skull fuck your pitiful tag team. That's my duty, that's what I do, and upon doing it, I don't need the screaming reactions of harsh jeers, or some tabloid rumors to get to sleep at night. All I ever need to know, is that I'm a Wrestler, and I love it. I do it because I'm a competitor, I thrive on competition. I am not poisoned by your trivial cries for attention. As a result, when I used to beat up on punks like Vincent Palmer, and Corey Bull, I didn't need to call them Niggers, or set of some chain of death threats and murders to do it. I also say that last part, 'murders', with an over reaching stench of sarcasm."
"After all, Ace was dead once, and Axle Killed him."
"Yup, that seems to be holding up these days. Long live HFF."
-I mime a salute, rolling my eyes and scoffing out my sarcasm.-
"So yeah, when I was tearing UECW's roster a new asshole, notably against number one contenders for your belt Ace, well you got a little scared of me didn't you? Rightfully so, the first instant I got the chance I was going to humble your sorry ass. So not only did I know I was superior, you knew it. So obviously, being the whimps you guys are, HFF kicked my ass, and put me on a brand new show, far away from yourself. Then, and this is the kicker, you ran away. Not simply run away either, you freight trained yourself as far away from me as possible, putting so many obstacles between me and you as humanly imaginable, so much so that you left UECW."
"And died."
"You fucking coward."
"It's okay to think I'm better than you are Ace, that is simply a fact of life, but you didn't have to make it so obvious, you didn't need to hide, you didn't even need to fake your death, and you sure as hell didn't need to steal my moniker. Black mumba my ass, you don't deserve the title."
"Except there is no running away now. There are no 3 on 1 attacks... not unfair advantages, no title belts on the line, no UECW, just simple exhibition, and it's here that I garner the ability to finally implode your face. So please, don't try and kill yourself on the way to the building this time. I don't know how many more excuses I can take."
-I fold my arms, sharing a smug look of confidence that oozes and slimes arrogance. My specialty.-
"On the other side of the coin, we have Vengeance over here, the man with Alex Remington's cum dried up and collecting on ever shirt he owns. See, I never personally dealt with Axle a lot before, he was always kind of in the shadows, sighing and nodding at Ace's ludicrous ideas and over the top sense for the dramatics. So I guess I shouldn't be so surprised to see him in the empire doing it with Corey and Alex all over, and all anew. See, I've watched a scatter bit of the last PPV, and what I saw was a bunch of men, who have historically run rampages over federations, doing what they do best, causing shit, getting the job done, one way or another. Personally, I was thinking as I watched it, same old shit new place. I wasn't exactly jeering, I didn't exactly care, that is up until the ending."
"The part where HFF bent over and took it right in the ass."
-I questionably mime the action with my hands. It's awkward.-
"So I pose this inquiry to both of you, but you particularly Axle."
"Did you ever wonder what happened to wrestlers?"
-I hope they realize that's rhetorical, dumbasses.-
"I have."
"Once upon a time Axle, men and women wrestled for themselves, they wrestled under the pretense that at the end of the day, perhaps they could be the best. They competed in competitions to determine who amongst them was superior, who through all their training, all their practice and dedication, would end up on top. That is what we do on a fundamentally basic level, we come in here, into the IWF or whatever federation, and we try to win, we try to defeat, we try to become champion."
"Not to steal more words from your own fucking mouth, but we're here to fight for 'the most esteemed and powerful championship in all of professional wrestling '."
"Welp, so much for that load of shit, right Axle? Why bare all that weight and stress, why even mingle with the idea! Sure, you can take it easy, back attacks, sneak attacks, follow an order of two. Throw away the competitive nature, the spirit, and the childhood dreams and go up to Corey and tell him you'd like another round of Cock. Because God forbid you actually take a chance, and see if your better than Alex. And to think in a recent promotional piece Ace went as far as to claim you guys weren't into the Blow-Job method. I guess he spoke too soon, eh?"
"I know your kind, just rest your head, close your weary eyes, don't fret, someone else will surely do it for you."
"A Hunter Sullivan, Or Jacob Figgins perhaps."
-shurg-
"See Axle, when you decided you'd play second fiddle, when you decided that instead of becoming a champion, becoming this federations top dog, when you decided that being the best was no longer a priority, you tossed away your wrestler namesake. You tossed it out, shat on it, pissed all over it. In its stead, taking it's alternative, you choose to replace your label with 'Apathetic." A term synonymous with failure, loser, and weak. I'm starting to wonder in fact Axle, if you're just trying to blend in with the crowd now, jump on the band wagon, and hope no one noticed that your slipping up. It makes sense, toss a veil over the wound, and perhaps no one will notice you're hurt, not as good as you were once."
"It's only a theory, but hey, last solo match you had, without using a crutch, some empire member, Ace here even, you tapped out like a little piss-ant bitch."
"Really now Axle, you're almost getting as bad as Damien, and we all know he's a fucking useless pussy."
-Truth-
"The problem here is evident, Figgy lives his days as an artist, perhaps a little overabundant on the drinking, but he moves around, hoping, pleading with his own skill not to grow stagnant. I've lived a life of discipline and focus, where wrestling has been a priority, I've consistently never been okay with my current level of being, reaching to obtain the next level, because I'm a wrestler."
"Those are traits you both lack, It's why I never fit in, it's why when you beat down a woman tied to a chair, i sat in the kitchen glaring at Aces' World title. It's why when you all played little games on your social networks, I had my own opinions. It's why in the end you all removed me, because we're different."
"It's because I'm better than you."
-Palm the camera.-
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