Post by Michael Callahan on Oct 27, 2012 14:16:25 GMT -4
”War does not determine who is right. Only who is left.” - Bertrand Russell, Welsh Philosopher and Liberal Social Commentator
Although the above quote comes from a rather leftist perspective, certainly further left than Michael Callahan would agree with, it is one that certainly holds significant weight given the circumstances facing the six combatants entering into this Sunday's Extreme Elimination Chamber for the World Heavyweight Championship. The most important issue facing a wrestler is that of supremacy. Every rivalry, every match, every single lock, choke and hold inside that squared circle is evidence of that, a constant struggle between men and women to determine who is the superior physical specimen. Who is the toughest? Who is the fastest? Who is the strongest? Who has the guts to carry on fighting when the chips are down, when the body is torn and battered but the heart and the mind still campaign onwards? The diplomatic approach simply can't resolve a question like this.
With such a terrifying physical ordeal lying ahead, a physical and emotional minefield guaranteed to shorten the careers of everyone involved it is no surprise that Michael Callahan is exercising his mind as well as his body in a last ditch attempt to try and barricade up against the beating he is going to receive inside the dreaded steel structure. In a high-rise gym in Tokyo, a mere twenty minutes away from the Tokyo Dome. Yet as he performs his fifth hundred press-up and reminds himself that he's not just a brain in a jar, even the determined warrior spirit inside of him struggles to argue with the logic of Bertrand. This, like the singular bead of sweat that drips down the side of his face is just one of many thoughts swirling in a cacophonous hurricane.
Callahan finishes his last press-up and dusts himself off as he heaves his sweating carcass off the floor.
Michael Callahan: Oh, hi there. Michael Callahan here. It's nice to speak to you, all my constituents once again. It truly is a shame it has to be on the dawning of the darkest hour of my professional career but alas, we can not choose the direction that the winds of fate guide us towards. So with that in mind I have one question to ask all of you...
He thrusts his arms out to the sides and stares up at the ceiling as if he were on stage, then brings an invisible microphone to his lips.
Michael Callahan: War. Huh. What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing! At least that's what you'd expect him to say.
Michael Callahan: Well it's usually an effective final measure of dispute resolution between sovereign powers when the diplomatic process hasn't achieved it's aims. It's also a pretty good way of protecting yourself from the advances of foreign invaders who wish to annihilate your people or intervene to upset dictatorial regimes. Edwin Starr never factored those important ideas into his famous anti-war anthem but alas, I don't think it would've flowed with the song quite as well. War of course is the perfect summation of what One Night in Hell is going to be this Sunday and how fitting it is in Japan, a beautiful nation that has been scarred and torn by aggressors for centuries and at the risk of undermining the two most awful man-made disasters in human history, the fallout from Extreme Elimination Chamber is going to be like nothing they've ever seen before.
Internal Memo: Callahan refers to Keaton Saint as “Little Boy” and Phil Atken as “Fat Man” respectively.
Michael Callahan: The Extreme Elimination Chamber is APW's cruellest of battlegrounds and in order for it to truly serve it's purpose it must address and bring closure to the many issues lingering between its gladiator participants. Johnny Rebel's superiority complex must be satiated, Keaton Saint must make his stellar impact as he debuts into the world of extreme, Sally Talfourd and Anthony Bailey must finally put aside their ghastly friendship and do battle for supremacy and of course Phil Atken must exchange fire with the demons of his own abject cowardice. More than that though? It's about the right to hold that championship belt high above your head and say that you survived, that you were the best there ever was and that you could adapt to everything they could throw at you in that chamber yet still have the strength to keep on fighting.
Michael Callahan's toughness has been tested on a number of occasions before in APW such as the championship scramble but never in a situation such as this.
Michael Callahan: Add to this my personal issues with just about everyone participating in this Extreme Elimination Chamber and my implosion on the moral belief of refusing to use weapons in the context of wrestling? Well you have a true crucible for a ruthless display of power. Now I am deeply ashamed to admit that I may have lost my temper... in fact I may have been utterly incensed to the point of beating the red, white and blue out of our beloved champion. Breaking a “promise” if you will. Yet this is a war and as the old saying goes, all is fair in love and war and I sure as hell love that world championship and the esteem and respect that comes with it. So it only follows that I'm willing to go to war in order to acquire it for myself. I promised that Martinez, my beloved signed Seattle Mariner slugger would be joining me inside that Hellish structure and like all the promises I make, I have every intention of keeping them.
Such promises include his bid to win the Suicide Championship, to turn it into a Pro Life Championship, beat Sally Talfourd and win a fatal four-way to become number one contender at Mayhem. 3-1.
Michael Callahan: Yet of course there are five other false prophets preaching to the same choir. So who do you believe? Do you choose me? A tried and true American Hero who in his debut year as an American wrestler enjoyed an unprecedented seventeen week undefeated streak? A man who is Asylum's longest reigning champion in the history of the brand? A man who has never failed to win a championship match in which he was the challenger? A man who has repeatedly and consistently gone on to pull off the biggest upsets when I was the only person believing in me? Or do you pick someone else? Well let's look at our options shall we?
And so begins the run-down.
Michael Callahan: Fluffy haired alternative London “cool dude” Keaton Saint. A man who's legacy is limitless. Former Experts Champion, a four time Experts Tournament entrant? Great. Yet despite his length tenure here as a member of the Overdrive roster what has he done besides accumulate a string of searing losses to our current Undisputed Champion Terry Marvin? Now I'm no “Saint”, or I am as it were because I myself am guilty of the crime of losing to that fat oaf but Keaton Saint has made a career of it and in his unquestionable arrogance in thinking that he can jump to Asylum for an “easier life” and try to and build the legacy that he couldn't on Overdrive is clear guilt that he is a broken man. Past his prime, trying to sabotage others by using his string of high profile losses to boost his portfolio and overshadow others. It's sick, it's wrong, it's pathetic and I'm going to make sure Keaton knows that jumping to the the extreme brand, MY SHOW is only going to put him in the shadow of an even bigger looming threat.
To have the audacity to declare himself bigger than Terry Marvin may be audacious but Callahan's loss was an extremely close, hard-fought one where bad officiating cost him a potential win over a now Undisputed Champion.
Michael Callahan: Alternatively of course you could put your faith in Johnny Rebel. Former Overdrive Champion, main evented this year at Rasslemania, yet just like Keaton before him he wrongly assumes that having sway on Overdrive means you can rule the roost on Asylum. It doesn't work like that. The people who assume that jumping ship to the bi-weekly show leads to a higher chance of success are the Shane Borderlands of the industry. He came in here like a bat out of Hell and left just as quick, a true flash in the pan. The only difference between Rebel, Saint and Borderlands is that once upon a time? I actually RESPECTED Johnny Rebel. Now though, it's time for him to learn that he HAS to respect me if he wants to survive. His rhetoric around me circles around the concept that I'm a kiss-ass politician. Well I do not kiss ass. I'm a game-changer, an idealist who makes his surroundings fit him, not adjust to the status quo. Johnny Rebel, you WILL respect me.
Next up? Phil Atken, Scottish socialist commentator.
Michael Callahan: Phil Atken? Please. Much in the same way Terry Marvin made a career of slapping around Keaton Saint and Kurt Noble made one of making a show of CJ Gates, I have done the same. Phil Atken is my whipping boy. I'm going to give the devil his due, he's as tough as nails when he wants to be and he plays a clever game in the ring by getting his friends to do his dirty work for him. But what now when the gates are shut and he's left alone with a pink frosted doughnut or whatever madly ineffectual weapon he happens to bring in with him? I Victory Lock him and take the gold, just like I did on my very first night at Survive and Conquer to claim the Suicidal Championship. Phil Atken having a role in this match is a hilarious joke. I used you as a springboard to a championship reign and on Sunday, I will do so again.
Taking Phil Atken lightly may not always seem like a bad idea but now? It might just be.
Michael Callahan: Sally Talfourd. Once you were the object of my affection. Then you were the source of all the fear I could possibly conjure. Now? I pity you. The ol' gal has still got some go in her and from her experiences in these matches, a record setting two previous Chamber appearances I know she is going to be THE combatant to watch inside that cold steel structure. So why do I pity her? Because it's never going to end. Is it? The media circus, the circle of reporters flocking her every move epitomised in the pathetic little maggot that is Shane West. She doesn't care for the people any more, nor for gold or for glory. She solely seeks attention. Well you've got it little lady. You don't have to get implants or inject any more botox, I'm fully aware that even though I've defeated you twice you're going to be hungrier than ever to have all eyes on that slim little waist of yours when the title is wrapped around it. Yet just like before, I'm going to be Victory Locking my way to... well, victory? Heh.
The joking comes to a stop and Callahan now changes his expression from that of a smirk to almost a snarl as he comes to the crest of his ranting.
Michael Callahan: And then finally we come to our beloved champion. Him and Sally, I have far more I wish to say but sadly the ten minute length on these videos means I have to keep it concise. Anthony Reese Bailey, the man who I once considered my closest reflection in this industry. A sterling young upstart, college educated and culturally aware with the power to say and do the right thing. Apparently I couldn't have been more wrong. Ever since the day we met Anthony you have slighted me. Over and over again and yet I have blissfully ignored it knowing that either you'd come around or I'd prove to you once and for all that I was a man of honesty and integrity. Then you had to go and push me, you pushed me that step too far and made me break two of the vows I promised I never would. I hit you with a weapon and I swore, on national television all because you pushed me too far. There was absolutely nothing I did, no aggravation that translated what you did into a rational and reasonable response.
Callahan's clenching fists tighten the muscles in his bulky arms, veins showing clear as day under the bright light of the Tokyo gym.
Michael Callahan: And yet you did it. You brought out my harlot of an ex-girlfriend and paraded her in skimpy outfits like a piece of meat, right before my very own eyes. You laid hands on my former love, the woman I was betrothed to and you humiliated us both. My blood ran hotter than the tides of the River Styx that night and I knew at that moment that what you'd done was cross a bridge over troubled water. There's no going back now Anthony. Nuh-uh. You've taken it too far for us to reconcile. But that's okay, because I know that was your intention. This is war we're entering and that was your idea of a declaration. Fine. Consider it done. Game on. But just know that you have made a rod for your own back.
Michael Callahan reaches down into the pocket of his striped Adidas track pants and pulls out an opaque brown tub with a white lid. He unscrews it and dabs his index and middle fingers into the sticky brown substance contained within, drawing two lines under each eyes with camouflage paint. Inside his mind he reverts back to the old war days... All Hell starts to break loose.
Michael Callahan: For you see... I'm not just a politician. I am a former United States Marine and in order to win the war I am going to engage in it with the soldier mentality. I don't speak often of my combat background, it's nothing something I like to parade but you Anthony? You have awoken the soldier spirit within me. The campaign is on. I will march up that hill and I will take everything you hold dear. So when you go into your little pod, or into the chamber to start the match let me make one thing clear to you Anthony Bailey. This is war. A bloody, vicious war which will almost certainly end in mutually assured distraction. Just know that you won't be facing Michael Callahan, the smiling, baby-kissing, crowd-pleasing Republican. You'll be going toe to toe with Sergeant Michael Oliver Callahan, a purple heart veteran of Iraq. Show me your face Anthony, SHOW ME YOUR WARFACE! OO-RAH MARINES! ONWARD MARCH!
Fade.
Although the above quote comes from a rather leftist perspective, certainly further left than Michael Callahan would agree with, it is one that certainly holds significant weight given the circumstances facing the six combatants entering into this Sunday's Extreme Elimination Chamber for the World Heavyweight Championship. The most important issue facing a wrestler is that of supremacy. Every rivalry, every match, every single lock, choke and hold inside that squared circle is evidence of that, a constant struggle between men and women to determine who is the superior physical specimen. Who is the toughest? Who is the fastest? Who is the strongest? Who has the guts to carry on fighting when the chips are down, when the body is torn and battered but the heart and the mind still campaign onwards? The diplomatic approach simply can't resolve a question like this.
With such a terrifying physical ordeal lying ahead, a physical and emotional minefield guaranteed to shorten the careers of everyone involved it is no surprise that Michael Callahan is exercising his mind as well as his body in a last ditch attempt to try and barricade up against the beating he is going to receive inside the dreaded steel structure. In a high-rise gym in Tokyo, a mere twenty minutes away from the Tokyo Dome. Yet as he performs his fifth hundred press-up and reminds himself that he's not just a brain in a jar, even the determined warrior spirit inside of him struggles to argue with the logic of Bertrand. This, like the singular bead of sweat that drips down the side of his face is just one of many thoughts swirling in a cacophonous hurricane.
Callahan finishes his last press-up and dusts himself off as he heaves his sweating carcass off the floor.
Michael Callahan: Oh, hi there. Michael Callahan here. It's nice to speak to you, all my constituents once again. It truly is a shame it has to be on the dawning of the darkest hour of my professional career but alas, we can not choose the direction that the winds of fate guide us towards. So with that in mind I have one question to ask all of you...
He thrusts his arms out to the sides and stares up at the ceiling as if he were on stage, then brings an invisible microphone to his lips.
Michael Callahan: War. Huh. What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing! At least that's what you'd expect him to say.
Michael Callahan: Well it's usually an effective final measure of dispute resolution between sovereign powers when the diplomatic process hasn't achieved it's aims. It's also a pretty good way of protecting yourself from the advances of foreign invaders who wish to annihilate your people or intervene to upset dictatorial regimes. Edwin Starr never factored those important ideas into his famous anti-war anthem but alas, I don't think it would've flowed with the song quite as well. War of course is the perfect summation of what One Night in Hell is going to be this Sunday and how fitting it is in Japan, a beautiful nation that has been scarred and torn by aggressors for centuries and at the risk of undermining the two most awful man-made disasters in human history, the fallout from Extreme Elimination Chamber is going to be like nothing they've ever seen before.
Internal Memo: Callahan refers to Keaton Saint as “Little Boy” and Phil Atken as “Fat Man” respectively.
Michael Callahan: The Extreme Elimination Chamber is APW's cruellest of battlegrounds and in order for it to truly serve it's purpose it must address and bring closure to the many issues lingering between its gladiator participants. Johnny Rebel's superiority complex must be satiated, Keaton Saint must make his stellar impact as he debuts into the world of extreme, Sally Talfourd and Anthony Bailey must finally put aside their ghastly friendship and do battle for supremacy and of course Phil Atken must exchange fire with the demons of his own abject cowardice. More than that though? It's about the right to hold that championship belt high above your head and say that you survived, that you were the best there ever was and that you could adapt to everything they could throw at you in that chamber yet still have the strength to keep on fighting.
Michael Callahan's toughness has been tested on a number of occasions before in APW such as the championship scramble but never in a situation such as this.
Michael Callahan: Add to this my personal issues with just about everyone participating in this Extreme Elimination Chamber and my implosion on the moral belief of refusing to use weapons in the context of wrestling? Well you have a true crucible for a ruthless display of power. Now I am deeply ashamed to admit that I may have lost my temper... in fact I may have been utterly incensed to the point of beating the red, white and blue out of our beloved champion. Breaking a “promise” if you will. Yet this is a war and as the old saying goes, all is fair in love and war and I sure as hell love that world championship and the esteem and respect that comes with it. So it only follows that I'm willing to go to war in order to acquire it for myself. I promised that Martinez, my beloved signed Seattle Mariner slugger would be joining me inside that Hellish structure and like all the promises I make, I have every intention of keeping them.
Such promises include his bid to win the Suicide Championship, to turn it into a Pro Life Championship, beat Sally Talfourd and win a fatal four-way to become number one contender at Mayhem. 3-1.
Michael Callahan: Yet of course there are five other false prophets preaching to the same choir. So who do you believe? Do you choose me? A tried and true American Hero who in his debut year as an American wrestler enjoyed an unprecedented seventeen week undefeated streak? A man who is Asylum's longest reigning champion in the history of the brand? A man who has never failed to win a championship match in which he was the challenger? A man who has repeatedly and consistently gone on to pull off the biggest upsets when I was the only person believing in me? Or do you pick someone else? Well let's look at our options shall we?
And so begins the run-down.
Michael Callahan: Fluffy haired alternative London “cool dude” Keaton Saint. A man who's legacy is limitless. Former Experts Champion, a four time Experts Tournament entrant? Great. Yet despite his length tenure here as a member of the Overdrive roster what has he done besides accumulate a string of searing losses to our current Undisputed Champion Terry Marvin? Now I'm no “Saint”, or I am as it were because I myself am guilty of the crime of losing to that fat oaf but Keaton Saint has made a career of it and in his unquestionable arrogance in thinking that he can jump to Asylum for an “easier life” and try to and build the legacy that he couldn't on Overdrive is clear guilt that he is a broken man. Past his prime, trying to sabotage others by using his string of high profile losses to boost his portfolio and overshadow others. It's sick, it's wrong, it's pathetic and I'm going to make sure Keaton knows that jumping to the the extreme brand, MY SHOW is only going to put him in the shadow of an even bigger looming threat.
To have the audacity to declare himself bigger than Terry Marvin may be audacious but Callahan's loss was an extremely close, hard-fought one where bad officiating cost him a potential win over a now Undisputed Champion.
Michael Callahan: Alternatively of course you could put your faith in Johnny Rebel. Former Overdrive Champion, main evented this year at Rasslemania, yet just like Keaton before him he wrongly assumes that having sway on Overdrive means you can rule the roost on Asylum. It doesn't work like that. The people who assume that jumping ship to the bi-weekly show leads to a higher chance of success are the Shane Borderlands of the industry. He came in here like a bat out of Hell and left just as quick, a true flash in the pan. The only difference between Rebel, Saint and Borderlands is that once upon a time? I actually RESPECTED Johnny Rebel. Now though, it's time for him to learn that he HAS to respect me if he wants to survive. His rhetoric around me circles around the concept that I'm a kiss-ass politician. Well I do not kiss ass. I'm a game-changer, an idealist who makes his surroundings fit him, not adjust to the status quo. Johnny Rebel, you WILL respect me.
Next up? Phil Atken, Scottish socialist commentator.
Michael Callahan: Phil Atken? Please. Much in the same way Terry Marvin made a career of slapping around Keaton Saint and Kurt Noble made one of making a show of CJ Gates, I have done the same. Phil Atken is my whipping boy. I'm going to give the devil his due, he's as tough as nails when he wants to be and he plays a clever game in the ring by getting his friends to do his dirty work for him. But what now when the gates are shut and he's left alone with a pink frosted doughnut or whatever madly ineffectual weapon he happens to bring in with him? I Victory Lock him and take the gold, just like I did on my very first night at Survive and Conquer to claim the Suicidal Championship. Phil Atken having a role in this match is a hilarious joke. I used you as a springboard to a championship reign and on Sunday, I will do so again.
Taking Phil Atken lightly may not always seem like a bad idea but now? It might just be.
Michael Callahan: Sally Talfourd. Once you were the object of my affection. Then you were the source of all the fear I could possibly conjure. Now? I pity you. The ol' gal has still got some go in her and from her experiences in these matches, a record setting two previous Chamber appearances I know she is going to be THE combatant to watch inside that cold steel structure. So why do I pity her? Because it's never going to end. Is it? The media circus, the circle of reporters flocking her every move epitomised in the pathetic little maggot that is Shane West. She doesn't care for the people any more, nor for gold or for glory. She solely seeks attention. Well you've got it little lady. You don't have to get implants or inject any more botox, I'm fully aware that even though I've defeated you twice you're going to be hungrier than ever to have all eyes on that slim little waist of yours when the title is wrapped around it. Yet just like before, I'm going to be Victory Locking my way to... well, victory? Heh.
The joking comes to a stop and Callahan now changes his expression from that of a smirk to almost a snarl as he comes to the crest of his ranting.
Michael Callahan: And then finally we come to our beloved champion. Him and Sally, I have far more I wish to say but sadly the ten minute length on these videos means I have to keep it concise. Anthony Reese Bailey, the man who I once considered my closest reflection in this industry. A sterling young upstart, college educated and culturally aware with the power to say and do the right thing. Apparently I couldn't have been more wrong. Ever since the day we met Anthony you have slighted me. Over and over again and yet I have blissfully ignored it knowing that either you'd come around or I'd prove to you once and for all that I was a man of honesty and integrity. Then you had to go and push me, you pushed me that step too far and made me break two of the vows I promised I never would. I hit you with a weapon and I swore, on national television all because you pushed me too far. There was absolutely nothing I did, no aggravation that translated what you did into a rational and reasonable response.
Callahan's clenching fists tighten the muscles in his bulky arms, veins showing clear as day under the bright light of the Tokyo gym.
Michael Callahan: And yet you did it. You brought out my harlot of an ex-girlfriend and paraded her in skimpy outfits like a piece of meat, right before my very own eyes. You laid hands on my former love, the woman I was betrothed to and you humiliated us both. My blood ran hotter than the tides of the River Styx that night and I knew at that moment that what you'd done was cross a bridge over troubled water. There's no going back now Anthony. Nuh-uh. You've taken it too far for us to reconcile. But that's okay, because I know that was your intention. This is war we're entering and that was your idea of a declaration. Fine. Consider it done. Game on. But just know that you have made a rod for your own back.
Michael Callahan reaches down into the pocket of his striped Adidas track pants and pulls out an opaque brown tub with a white lid. He unscrews it and dabs his index and middle fingers into the sticky brown substance contained within, drawing two lines under each eyes with camouflage paint. Inside his mind he reverts back to the old war days... All Hell starts to break loose.
Michael Callahan: For you see... I'm not just a politician. I am a former United States Marine and in order to win the war I am going to engage in it with the soldier mentality. I don't speak often of my combat background, it's nothing something I like to parade but you Anthony? You have awoken the soldier spirit within me. The campaign is on. I will march up that hill and I will take everything you hold dear. So when you go into your little pod, or into the chamber to start the match let me make one thing clear to you Anthony Bailey. This is war. A bloody, vicious war which will almost certainly end in mutually assured distraction. Just know that you won't be facing Michael Callahan, the smiling, baby-kissing, crowd-pleasing Republican. You'll be going toe to toe with Sergeant Michael Oliver Callahan, a purple heart veteran of Iraq. Show me your face Anthony, SHOW ME YOUR WARFACE! OO-RAH MARINES! ONWARD MARCH!
Fade.
