Post by Phil Atken on Oct 6, 2012 14:54:46 GMT -4
For reference on the intro: www.fwrestling.com/showthread.php?24143-SURVIVALISM-2012-The-Ultratitle-EndGame&p=98954#post98954
We find Phil Atken in the company of many people we are very much unfamiliar with. JUST KIDDING! He's with Dirk Dickwood and Hank [Redacted]. We find the fine trio of three lounging about in a rather relaxed manner in their beautiful hotel abode in Singapore. Hank is resting up in his bed and his mouth appears to be taped up as a warning against chewing gum. Dirk and Phil are sitting at a nearby table, a glass of wine each, for they are refined gentlemen in this business industry we call wrestle.
Dead centre of said table the gents are sitting on is a rather large title belt shaped like a Space Invader.
Dickwood: So, you're champion of the galaxy? That's what you're telling me?
Atken: Don't be silly Dirk. I'm champion of at least two galaxies, if not more. I'm more than qualified to defeat any oncoming space invasions.
Dickwood: And indeed Space Invaders.
Atken: Look, I didn't design the thing, I just wear it with pride.
Dickwood: And APW gave this to you?
Atken: What? No!
Dickwood: Don't you think that you should maybe giving y'know... your opponents at One Night in Hell for the GOD DAMN WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP some attention.
Phil slides up in his chair, going a little bug eyed at Dirk, obviously Dirk's wonderful manner of shouting very loudly then quieting down was slightly disconcerting to dear ole Pip.
Atken: Dirk, calm man, calm. Look at Hank, he's calm!
And we cut to Hank, fast asleep on one of the beds, sucking his thumb in the most adorable way a man of his height and stature could possibly do. Somehow this thumb has managed to penetrate the chewing gum tape guard.
Dickwood: Oh sorry, forgive me for being a little on edge that at the most important time in your APW career you've decided to suddenly half ass everything you do. I mean, what the hell was that two weeks ago? You just bolted away at the first sign of having to make an effort.
Atken: I'm sorry that I let my opponents at One Night in Hell beat the crap out of each other while I stayed out of the damn way in an incredibly low stakes match. I'm sorry I saw the common sense in that little arrangement.
Dickwood: Does it make sense? Sure, let your drooling opponents slip up. Let Sally get beat down by a trio of odd looking men in a scene reminiscent of a reddit poster's day dream. I don't have issue with that. I have issue with you rolling out of the way when it look for just the smallest of seconds like you'd actually have to put some work in to this.
Atken: I don't back down Dirk, I mean look at what I did to Johnny Knuckles...
Dickwood: Everyone has done that to Johnny Knuckles. Hell, I saw the cleaner at the last Asylum roll him up for a pin backstage. You can't rest on the laurels of old Phil. You can't just kick back and expect to be handed that big brass ring just from all of your opponents collapsing upon each other in a way the eliminates them all, leaving only you left standing. I don't say this as a friend, I say this as your manager who stands to get a metric fuckton of cash if you win at One Night in Hell. It's time to knuckle down and get serious.
Atken: I already downed Knuckles...
Dickwood: YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. Sally, Rebel, Bailey, Callahan and Borderland...
Atken: Who was that last one?
Dickwood: Shane Borderland.
Atken: Run that past me one more time.
Dickwood: Borderland, Shane Borderland.
Phil leans back in his chair mumbling the word “Borderland” to himself over and over, looking quite puzzled as he does so.
Dickwood: He was in the tag match at the last Asylum..
Phil continues to try and figure out the mystery of the Borderland.
Atken: I thought that was a video game.
Dickwood: That's Borderlands. With an s.
Atken: You're sure he was there last week? I remember the rest of them. Bailey was a bloody slacker but I know he showed up in the end. I don't remember any Sean Borderlands.
Dickwood: Shane.
Atken: Potato, potato.
Dirk breathes a heavy sigh.
Dickwood: Sometimes I could swear that you were being intentionally obtuse. Shane Borderland, old tag partner of Jason Kash, fled like a coward from APW just before you showed up, climbed the ranks of Meltdown and somehow by interfering at Shockwave was deemed a title contender. He's currently trying to relaunch his image. Any of this ring a bell?
Atken: Relaunch his image? Didn't Knuckles try and do that? I think Callahan did too. Wait, didn't I do that at one point? Seriously Dirk, I'm struggling here.
Dickwood: He's shown a great love for violence...
Atken: Sounds like half of the Asylum roster.
Dickwood: He has a match with you this week on Asylum...
Atken: Oh SHANE Borderland. Why didn't you say so? Dirk, you really need to make things clearer.
Dirk begins to chug his glass of wine, which to be honest, is probably for the best. While Dirk chugs away, grabbing the bottle on the table to refill before deciding to throw the glass away and chug directly from the bottle, Phil pivots around to stare down the camera.
Atken: Ah, Shane Borderland. What will we ever do with you? I thought I was entitled when I walked in here. I came in to APW with a legacy to re-establish, a name to re-invent, a purpose to re-define. So in a way, I get it. I totally get where you are coming from. You've been on the plinth, you've looked down at those you've conquered and you've had been pleased. Now though, now you find yourself as the peasant on the ground looking up at King Bailey and his crown and all that breeds within you in resentment. After all, that should be your crown, shouldn't it? I've made that mistake before. I've focused on the crown and let the Court Jester get the best of me. The humiliation you feel, the deflation it brings... it just makes you brim over with FEELINGS. Regret, anger, humiliation, jealousy. You want to blame everyone but yourself. You want to take everything that's bubbling within you and you want to crush anybody who stands in your path, paying very little attention to just who it is that stands before you.
I've been there Shane. Many times. I've had the World Heavyweight Championship within my grasp and every time it happens, I'm too busy picturing myself with the belt around my waist and not at who I have to beat to get there. So I know what you're thinking right now Shane, you're sat there thinking that ole Phil, he's an idiot of little consequence. He's in the Chamber to make up the numbers, he's going to go down in a matter of seconds whenever he ends up in the ring. People like to underestimate what I'm capable of with suitable motivation.
I don't know if you've been paying too much attention to the damn show you want to be champion of Shane but maybe recently you've noticed Johnny Knuckles limping around, a man who wants to fight but is closer to the glue factory than he is to a title victory. Time and time again, the pundits doubted me. Those who would rather judge wrestling from the sidelines rather than get in the damn ring themselves thought that a man like me, a pudgy loud mouth was bound to get his arse roundly beaten by a brawler like Knuckles. After all, Johnny Knuckles lives and breathes violence, he spends his days thinking about the best way to inflict pain on his enemies and his friends... well that and awful prank jokes that normally result in ass. So imagine the scene at Shockwave as everyone at the arena saw Johnny Knuckles buried under a stack of televisions. I'm sure those watching Shockwave on PPV had their tiny little minds boggled. How could a fat waste of space actually take down the Survivor. I mean, he'd beat me before. He'd taken me out of Test for the Best. Surely that match was purely elementary. After all, Phil Atken, all he does to prepare for matches is sit around drinking wine and antagonising his agent. Speaking of...
Phil snatches the bottle off of Dirk, Dirk looking noticeably upset about this development
Atken: You are not hogging this Dirk. Do you know how expensive it is to buy alcohol here, never mind that alcohol being wine? It's like finding the Holy fucking Grail.
Dickwood: My entire baggage is wine.
Atken: Don't you y'know, need clothes and stuff?
Dickwood: That's what Hank's baggage is for.
Atken: I suppose, he does only have that one t-shirt.
Dickwood: Just be lucky you're never near his crotch.
Atken: You say that like you speak from experience.
Dirk shudders, Phil shrugs.
Atken: Where was I?
Dickwood: Beating Knuckles...
Atken: I KNOW THAT DIRK! I WAS USING A NARRATIVE TECHNIQUE!
Dirk gets up out of his seat and begins to rummage around his baggage of wines. No one is quite sure how he got it past customs.
Atken: Now I'm sure a man as fired and ready to go as yourself Steve, I'm sure you're listening to this tale of triumph and wondering, in the words of Janet Jackson, “What have you done for me lately... Ohhhh yeah”. Well first I would question why you are signing Janet Jackson songs from 1986 but after that, I'd simply tell you it's part of a bigger picture.
When Knuckles defeated me, when I saw my chance of Main Eventing Shockwave shatter in front of my eyes I realised that wanting gold purely for golds sake is not enough. It doesn't give you enough passion or drive to get to that final destination. You need purpose. You need a calling. You're directionless Shane, rudderless, your little dingy is just going around in circles without aim. If I asked you right now why you want to be champion, I'm sure you couldn't give me a good reason. For quite some time, I was the same way.
Now though? Now I realise that all along I've had a higher calling. That all the talk of concern from the health and well-being of my fellow roster members was all part of a larger picture. A picture I started at Shockwave and one I will continue at Asylum, one that will cumulate at One Night in Hell. I need to make those, like yourself Shane, those who bow down, those who kneel before the Alter of Violence, I need to make them realise there mistake. For a long time, I tried to do that the kind and forgiving way. I'd make grand speeches, I'd do radio broadcasts, I'd try and push that message on through my very own chat show but to steal a cliché “talk is cheap”. A man like me, I'm easy to dismiss. I'm a little abrasive, a little bit too mouthy, no, words would not be enough to convince men like you Shane that you worship a false belief.
Johnny Knuckles doesn't realise it yet but thanks to the damage I done, his career is slowly trundling to a close, I'd be surprised if he walked out of One Night in Hell in one piece, people may say that as a bad thing but I know that when the time is right, he will come and thank me. You're my next project Shane, a higher power has drawn us together and ensure that I serve my purpose in APW. I need to correct APW, I need to lead APW and I need to punish those who wish for violence for violences sake. One day you too will thank me.
If I get I win Beat the Clock? That's a reward for the service I have provided. A reward for realising my calling and embracing it.
We find Phil Atken in the company of many people we are very much unfamiliar with. JUST KIDDING! He's with Dirk Dickwood and Hank [Redacted]. We find the fine trio of three lounging about in a rather relaxed manner in their beautiful hotel abode in Singapore. Hank is resting up in his bed and his mouth appears to be taped up as a warning against chewing gum. Dirk and Phil are sitting at a nearby table, a glass of wine each, for they are refined gentlemen in this business industry we call wrestle.
Dead centre of said table the gents are sitting on is a rather large title belt shaped like a Space Invader.
Dickwood: So, you're champion of the galaxy? That's what you're telling me?
Atken: Don't be silly Dirk. I'm champion of at least two galaxies, if not more. I'm more than qualified to defeat any oncoming space invasions.
Dickwood: And indeed Space Invaders.
Atken: Look, I didn't design the thing, I just wear it with pride.
Dickwood: And APW gave this to you?
Atken: What? No!
Dickwood: Don't you think that you should maybe giving y'know... your opponents at One Night in Hell for the GOD DAMN WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP some attention.
Phil slides up in his chair, going a little bug eyed at Dirk, obviously Dirk's wonderful manner of shouting very loudly then quieting down was slightly disconcerting to dear ole Pip.
Atken: Dirk, calm man, calm. Look at Hank, he's calm!
And we cut to Hank, fast asleep on one of the beds, sucking his thumb in the most adorable way a man of his height and stature could possibly do. Somehow this thumb has managed to penetrate the chewing gum tape guard.
Dickwood: Oh sorry, forgive me for being a little on edge that at the most important time in your APW career you've decided to suddenly half ass everything you do. I mean, what the hell was that two weeks ago? You just bolted away at the first sign of having to make an effort.
Atken: I'm sorry that I let my opponents at One Night in Hell beat the crap out of each other while I stayed out of the damn way in an incredibly low stakes match. I'm sorry I saw the common sense in that little arrangement.
Dickwood: Does it make sense? Sure, let your drooling opponents slip up. Let Sally get beat down by a trio of odd looking men in a scene reminiscent of a reddit poster's day dream. I don't have issue with that. I have issue with you rolling out of the way when it look for just the smallest of seconds like you'd actually have to put some work in to this.
Atken: I don't back down Dirk, I mean look at what I did to Johnny Knuckles...
Dickwood: Everyone has done that to Johnny Knuckles. Hell, I saw the cleaner at the last Asylum roll him up for a pin backstage. You can't rest on the laurels of old Phil. You can't just kick back and expect to be handed that big brass ring just from all of your opponents collapsing upon each other in a way the eliminates them all, leaving only you left standing. I don't say this as a friend, I say this as your manager who stands to get a metric fuckton of cash if you win at One Night in Hell. It's time to knuckle down and get serious.
Atken: I already downed Knuckles...
Dickwood: YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. Sally, Rebel, Bailey, Callahan and Borderland...
Atken: Who was that last one?
Dickwood: Shane Borderland.
Atken: Run that past me one more time.
Dickwood: Borderland, Shane Borderland.
Phil leans back in his chair mumbling the word “Borderland” to himself over and over, looking quite puzzled as he does so.
Dickwood: He was in the tag match at the last Asylum..
Phil continues to try and figure out the mystery of the Borderland.
Atken: I thought that was a video game.
Dickwood: That's Borderlands. With an s.
Atken: You're sure he was there last week? I remember the rest of them. Bailey was a bloody slacker but I know he showed up in the end. I don't remember any Sean Borderlands.
Dickwood: Shane.
Atken: Potato, potato.
Dirk breathes a heavy sigh.
Dickwood: Sometimes I could swear that you were being intentionally obtuse. Shane Borderland, old tag partner of Jason Kash, fled like a coward from APW just before you showed up, climbed the ranks of Meltdown and somehow by interfering at Shockwave was deemed a title contender. He's currently trying to relaunch his image. Any of this ring a bell?
Atken: Relaunch his image? Didn't Knuckles try and do that? I think Callahan did too. Wait, didn't I do that at one point? Seriously Dirk, I'm struggling here.
Dickwood: He's shown a great love for violence...
Atken: Sounds like half of the Asylum roster.
Dickwood: He has a match with you this week on Asylum...
Atken: Oh SHANE Borderland. Why didn't you say so? Dirk, you really need to make things clearer.
Dirk begins to chug his glass of wine, which to be honest, is probably for the best. While Dirk chugs away, grabbing the bottle on the table to refill before deciding to throw the glass away and chug directly from the bottle, Phil pivots around to stare down the camera.
Atken: Ah, Shane Borderland. What will we ever do with you? I thought I was entitled when I walked in here. I came in to APW with a legacy to re-establish, a name to re-invent, a purpose to re-define. So in a way, I get it. I totally get where you are coming from. You've been on the plinth, you've looked down at those you've conquered and you've had been pleased. Now though, now you find yourself as the peasant on the ground looking up at King Bailey and his crown and all that breeds within you in resentment. After all, that should be your crown, shouldn't it? I've made that mistake before. I've focused on the crown and let the Court Jester get the best of me. The humiliation you feel, the deflation it brings... it just makes you brim over with FEELINGS. Regret, anger, humiliation, jealousy. You want to blame everyone but yourself. You want to take everything that's bubbling within you and you want to crush anybody who stands in your path, paying very little attention to just who it is that stands before you.
I've been there Shane. Many times. I've had the World Heavyweight Championship within my grasp and every time it happens, I'm too busy picturing myself with the belt around my waist and not at who I have to beat to get there. So I know what you're thinking right now Shane, you're sat there thinking that ole Phil, he's an idiot of little consequence. He's in the Chamber to make up the numbers, he's going to go down in a matter of seconds whenever he ends up in the ring. People like to underestimate what I'm capable of with suitable motivation.
I don't know if you've been paying too much attention to the damn show you want to be champion of Shane but maybe recently you've noticed Johnny Knuckles limping around, a man who wants to fight but is closer to the glue factory than he is to a title victory. Time and time again, the pundits doubted me. Those who would rather judge wrestling from the sidelines rather than get in the damn ring themselves thought that a man like me, a pudgy loud mouth was bound to get his arse roundly beaten by a brawler like Knuckles. After all, Johnny Knuckles lives and breathes violence, he spends his days thinking about the best way to inflict pain on his enemies and his friends... well that and awful prank jokes that normally result in ass. So imagine the scene at Shockwave as everyone at the arena saw Johnny Knuckles buried under a stack of televisions. I'm sure those watching Shockwave on PPV had their tiny little minds boggled. How could a fat waste of space actually take down the Survivor. I mean, he'd beat me before. He'd taken me out of Test for the Best. Surely that match was purely elementary. After all, Phil Atken, all he does to prepare for matches is sit around drinking wine and antagonising his agent. Speaking of...
Phil snatches the bottle off of Dirk, Dirk looking noticeably upset about this development
Atken: You are not hogging this Dirk. Do you know how expensive it is to buy alcohol here, never mind that alcohol being wine? It's like finding the Holy fucking Grail.
Dickwood: My entire baggage is wine.
Atken: Don't you y'know, need clothes and stuff?
Dickwood: That's what Hank's baggage is for.
Atken: I suppose, he does only have that one t-shirt.
Dickwood: Just be lucky you're never near his crotch.
Atken: You say that like you speak from experience.
Dirk shudders, Phil shrugs.
Atken: Where was I?
Dickwood: Beating Knuckles...
Atken: I KNOW THAT DIRK! I WAS USING A NARRATIVE TECHNIQUE!
Dirk gets up out of his seat and begins to rummage around his baggage of wines. No one is quite sure how he got it past customs.
Atken: Now I'm sure a man as fired and ready to go as yourself Steve, I'm sure you're listening to this tale of triumph and wondering, in the words of Janet Jackson, “What have you done for me lately... Ohhhh yeah”. Well first I would question why you are signing Janet Jackson songs from 1986 but after that, I'd simply tell you it's part of a bigger picture.
When Knuckles defeated me, when I saw my chance of Main Eventing Shockwave shatter in front of my eyes I realised that wanting gold purely for golds sake is not enough. It doesn't give you enough passion or drive to get to that final destination. You need purpose. You need a calling. You're directionless Shane, rudderless, your little dingy is just going around in circles without aim. If I asked you right now why you want to be champion, I'm sure you couldn't give me a good reason. For quite some time, I was the same way.
Now though? Now I realise that all along I've had a higher calling. That all the talk of concern from the health and well-being of my fellow roster members was all part of a larger picture. A picture I started at Shockwave and one I will continue at Asylum, one that will cumulate at One Night in Hell. I need to make those, like yourself Shane, those who bow down, those who kneel before the Alter of Violence, I need to make them realise there mistake. For a long time, I tried to do that the kind and forgiving way. I'd make grand speeches, I'd do radio broadcasts, I'd try and push that message on through my very own chat show but to steal a cliché “talk is cheap”. A man like me, I'm easy to dismiss. I'm a little abrasive, a little bit too mouthy, no, words would not be enough to convince men like you Shane that you worship a false belief.
Johnny Knuckles doesn't realise it yet but thanks to the damage I done, his career is slowly trundling to a close, I'd be surprised if he walked out of One Night in Hell in one piece, people may say that as a bad thing but I know that when the time is right, he will come and thank me. You're my next project Shane, a higher power has drawn us together and ensure that I serve my purpose in APW. I need to correct APW, I need to lead APW and I need to punish those who wish for violence for violences sake. One day you too will thank me.
If I get I win Beat the Clock? That's a reward for the service I have provided. A reward for realising my calling and embracing it.
