Post by Chris Strike on Nov 10, 2012 1:58:06 GMT -4
The smell of the salty sea hits his lungs as he sets his sights upon the columns and temples that stand ahead of him, its marvelous stones set adrift the heavens themselves. The image of the sun beginning to fade onto the shadows, and allowing the starry sky to show the cosmos around this Earth they lived in. It was a certainly beautiful afternoon within the ruins just outside of Athens, Greece and its collection of old, marvelous temples and buildings made it even more mesmerizing. The air he breathed felt refreshing, the breeze alleviating and calming his thoughts from every possible distraction that could be thrown upon his path.
But he wasn’t here to analyze neither the environment nor the beauty of the temples, relics of the past that reminded him of his own illustrious career. He’s been here quite a few times to use this place as a way of examining his own career when it reached certain, very specific points. It had become a tradition, painstakingly held since the inception of his moniker. Back turned to the cameras and the world itself, he wore a simple, navy blue toga that covered his muscular and scarred body and leather sandals that kept his feet from touching the hard, dirty ground – yet again, another bit of tradition, however much out of place it seemed to outsiders or first-time viewers. His rough and calloused hands rubbed together slowly, his body not daring to move.
“Once upon a time, these ancient temples and I have more in common than you could possibly imagine. Shining beacon of a civilization advanced and far beyond its time, grabbing people’s attentions at mere sight to the point where couldn’t stop staring, even if they wanted to. In awe of one’s abilities to progress and advance further than those around them. This place was the embodiment of something beyond mortal reach, a symbol of wealth, talent and absolute power. But eventually, all of this crumbled into ruin, becoming an ancient reminder of an extraordinary past and simply a reminder of what one can do if they set their minds to it in the present day.”
He took in a deep breath. Although the cameras couldn’t see his face, they were able to further examine the man before them and even some of the scars he bore. A bruise-like scar sat atop of his left shoulder, a long scar coming down from his forearm all the way to the top of his right hand and a wide cut slightly covered by the toga that seemed to extend itself through all of his lower back. There was no doubt this man had fought his share of battles…there was no doubt he was a warrior.
“Although if the comparisons aren’t good enough with just buildings. Let’s try another example here. Compare it to the human body. A body primed for the fires of battle, a body gone uninjured for many years, a body that refuses to be put on the shelf and away from the work it does by pesky injuries at the hands of men who aren’t fit to clean one’s sandals on their best days, let alone step inside a ring. But yet, a body that has grown weaker overtime, still showing its flashes of brilliance but knowing all too well that its prime is slowly being extinguished with each step it takes.”
His hands clutched into fists, his body’s weight made his feet firmer than before and thus, he looked up to the temples ahead of him. His right arm slowly made its way up and pointed towards the temples, a fiery vision running through his unseen eyes.
“The last time I was here about three years ago, I was a certain crossroads of my career, in a very similar position to the one I’ve described. In both a professional and personal standpoint and it was here that I made a choice. I swore that whatever obstacle got put in my way, whatever mountains I had to climb, that I won’t succumb to the same fate that these temples and just about anything who’s had its time under the sun, experiencing glory, fate and fortune have done. Way I see it; it’s going to be a long, long time before that day comes.”
A small laughter escaped his lips, as his left fist slowly turns back into a hand and his right hand falls back down to near his waist. Oh, how grand were the opportunities that lied beyond him. The opportunity to take a large step in ascending back to his former status as the absolute best around – something Chris Strike felt he earned throughout the years of venturing arenas of all shapes and sizes across the entire globe.
“I have gotten a lot of flack since arriving here. Between all the accusations that I’ve apparently stepped over the toes of many of APW’s ‘Mega Stars’ – whether they’re permanent stays or new hopefuls the company hopes to groom into the future. It’s amusing just how quickly the reactions went from holy shit, Strike’s in APW to this motherfucker’s taking all my opportunities and he hasn’t earned shit. The one-eighty was astronomically fast. A part of me is impressed at how quick the turnaround took while the other part of me saw it coming. All it took was one match and me beating the holy hell out of a few people, including a has-been who will most likely never, ever get a chance at a World title again and some other guy who’s probably running game shows in Germany while serving up a suspension. And those are just two of the vocal ones…”
He paused, taking in a deep breath before turning around almost instantly. His chocolate-brown eyes displayed an ardor unseen within him for years, a fiery will that would not be broken. But even behind that stare, Chris Strike fully wore a rather sardonic smile on his face, the kind that reflected what it came with being the well-known figure across the world making his way into a stacked deck and immediately turning out to be a better card than half the hands that had been inside of the company for a long period of time.
“APW’s Suicidal champion, Jason Kash, for example…now that’s one I was expecting to raise his voice loud and proud before Knuckles and Raab got to it. He’s a ‘company guy.’ He has been since day one. That’s what they’re supposed to do to the new blood, to those who try to make their mark in this place. I know that feeling, Jason. The fact is, I once had a place that I held near and dear to my heart like you hold APW near and dear to yours and prior to closing its doors in 2008, I defended that place and made myself its marquee guy with every fiber of my being. I know the position well enough to understand any and all beef you may have with me sauntering into your view after winning just one match to challenge you for the Suicidal title you wear, in the Asylum brand that you claim to have helped bring into a new era…I can respect the words and I can certainly respect the body of work that has led to those words and a Grand Slam…”
Walking briskly, sandals kicking the dirt beneath them with each step, Strike found a rather old part of a broken column. His left hand swept at any dirt and dust specks around it before he gradually sat down on it, arms resting in his thighs as he eyed the camera lens.
“But comparing the Jason Kash I’ve seen strutting around for the past few weeks to the one whose tapes I’ve been watching from ages back…well, let me put it this way. It feels as if you have become stagnant, Jason Kash. Maybe it’s the Grand Slam accolade, maybe it’s been the lack of competition but for heaven’s sakes, all these past matches against guys like Jair Hopkins, Stefan Raab, Yarmouth, Johnny Sykes…matches where you should be crushing scrubs like this with ease instead of struggling until damn near the last minute or finding your shoulders being put on the mat. Whether you like it or not, you’ve been scraping by ever since you damn near killed Michael Callahan for that Suicidal title and it’s hard to believe that you are the same guy who was damn near knocking people’s heads for a World Heavyweight title last year around inside the Elimination Chamber and proving to be one of the best that wrestling has to offer!”
Chris paused, letting the words sink in for a few moments before driving his point across to the so-called “Influential One,” the proverbial gatekeeper who would be bringing every single piece of his arsenal inside a no-holds barred brawl for one of APW’s prized possessions.
“For all your bark, Jason, your influence is the exact same as of that of these temples behind me. It is enriched in history, it has a luster of greatness left behind it but all that’s left out of it is nothing more than ruins that people willingly pass by without so much as a second glance and that thought infuriates you, doesn’t it? You probably think I’m the exact same, don’t you? That I’m just looking right through you and at the fifteen pounds of gold that Sally Talfourd currently holds.
Well, abandon your arrogance or otherwise, I’m going to take that title off your waist look absolutely and utterly easy!”
The more he studied Jason Kash, the more Chris Strike believed this match had a bigger purpose than expected for his own newfound journey. Ever since watching men that he respects in a professional basis rise up to the levels that they have and watching his own career stay at a comfortable course, well, it began to drive him insane. For many years, the biggest thing a man like Strike has taken pride in is the fact that he was always “in the chase.” Even if he was a long shot for it, he was always seeking more than what he had, always challenging himself to go a step further up, even if it meant falling down a few steps in the process and having to climb up again.
“I am not looking past you, Kash. Not by a long shot. In fact, I’m going to go right through you in the most defiant manner possible, bursting the doors wide open to my stay here in Action Packed Wrestling. I have come to this company with a purpose, Jason, and that purpose is to evolve, to become even better than what I am right now. It doesn’t matter if they had kept me on Meltdown, if they drafted me to Asylum or if they tossed me into Overdrive. It won’t matter who they put me up against, Jason Kash. I’m willing to make my way up the mountain, even if that means possibly stumbling down and falling down a few times during the climb…
Whether you’d like to admit it or not, for all the talk about competition, for all your talk about how much blood and chaos you’ll cause in order to bring this place its infamy, you have not delivered on your promise, because you have been far too busy settling down for being the mountain’s gatekeeper instead of the guy standing tall at its summit…and it’s disappointing. Because what you used to be and this thing that you are now, skilled and willing to shed blood as you are Jason, you could be so much more and yet, you choose to wallow in this comfort zone and act like it’s only the competition around you that should be getting better instead of bettering yourself with each and every week.
And there’s the difference. You are content where you are, Jason Kash.
I am not content with where I am and I won’t just settle for a nice little spot mountainside because of my name and the so-called ‘hype’ that it carries.
That’s not good enough for me and if that makes me enemy number one in your book, so fucking be it!”
Chris stood up from his seat at the pillar, breathing in and out regularly as the cameras close in on his upper body as he crosses his arms, glancing over at the temples again before returning his gaze to the camera lens.
“My path lies beyond being a relic of the past. My path lies beyond these temples built here, beyond the imaginations of any fallen, mortal man. My path beckons me to its destination like the sweet ambrosia that I once tasted in a daily basis. It beckons me to the stepping-stone lodged between mortality and immortality. It beckons me to the hallowed grounds where I shall meet new challenges, beckons me to climbing up to the top of the Mount and to someday, reach it again. But in order to do so, I have to go through a man whose suicidal tendencies have been a real stagnant piece of work lately.
Some of APW’s ‘Mega Stars’ found out exactly what the hell I am capable of doing with a set of weapons in my hand at One Night in Hell. A small sample size of what I can bring to the Suicidal division and the experience I’ve accumulated. Come my debut in Asylum, Jason Kash, you will learn quickly how creative I can get with the punishment I deliver, you will comprehend just how stubborn I am when it comes to letting some stagnant mortal try to have his way with me and most importantly, you will have it pounded within your skull again and again just how much of a difference there is between us.
You wanted a goddamn challenge?! Well, wake up, because it’s coming down from the heavens themselves to dish out a little dose of calamity, brutality and goddamn bloodshed of the likes which hasn’t been seen in this division in quite some time. Influential as you may be, thirsty for putting a beating on a complete outsider as you may wish to do, at the end of the day, the difference is clear. You and these temples share the similarity of being a relic of the past!”
No longer did the chocolate-brown eyes that belonged to the God of Thunder appear in their usual fiery determination. They displayed an obsession, a carnal desire, a longing for the battle that was ahead of him, a longing to show every single person in APW that he was not just some run-of-the-mill egomaniac, but a presence whose name they should stare at in each and every single weekly card and feel sorry for the schmuck who is fighting him that night
“And come Asylum, once I’m done with you…there isn’t a damned thing you will be able to do about it!”
But he wasn’t here to analyze neither the environment nor the beauty of the temples, relics of the past that reminded him of his own illustrious career. He’s been here quite a few times to use this place as a way of examining his own career when it reached certain, very specific points. It had become a tradition, painstakingly held since the inception of his moniker. Back turned to the cameras and the world itself, he wore a simple, navy blue toga that covered his muscular and scarred body and leather sandals that kept his feet from touching the hard, dirty ground – yet again, another bit of tradition, however much out of place it seemed to outsiders or first-time viewers. His rough and calloused hands rubbed together slowly, his body not daring to move.
“Once upon a time, these ancient temples and I have more in common than you could possibly imagine. Shining beacon of a civilization advanced and far beyond its time, grabbing people’s attentions at mere sight to the point where couldn’t stop staring, even if they wanted to. In awe of one’s abilities to progress and advance further than those around them. This place was the embodiment of something beyond mortal reach, a symbol of wealth, talent and absolute power. But eventually, all of this crumbled into ruin, becoming an ancient reminder of an extraordinary past and simply a reminder of what one can do if they set their minds to it in the present day.”
He took in a deep breath. Although the cameras couldn’t see his face, they were able to further examine the man before them and even some of the scars he bore. A bruise-like scar sat atop of his left shoulder, a long scar coming down from his forearm all the way to the top of his right hand and a wide cut slightly covered by the toga that seemed to extend itself through all of his lower back. There was no doubt this man had fought his share of battles…there was no doubt he was a warrior.
“Although if the comparisons aren’t good enough with just buildings. Let’s try another example here. Compare it to the human body. A body primed for the fires of battle, a body gone uninjured for many years, a body that refuses to be put on the shelf and away from the work it does by pesky injuries at the hands of men who aren’t fit to clean one’s sandals on their best days, let alone step inside a ring. But yet, a body that has grown weaker overtime, still showing its flashes of brilliance but knowing all too well that its prime is slowly being extinguished with each step it takes.”
His hands clutched into fists, his body’s weight made his feet firmer than before and thus, he looked up to the temples ahead of him. His right arm slowly made its way up and pointed towards the temples, a fiery vision running through his unseen eyes.
“The last time I was here about three years ago, I was a certain crossroads of my career, in a very similar position to the one I’ve described. In both a professional and personal standpoint and it was here that I made a choice. I swore that whatever obstacle got put in my way, whatever mountains I had to climb, that I won’t succumb to the same fate that these temples and just about anything who’s had its time under the sun, experiencing glory, fate and fortune have done. Way I see it; it’s going to be a long, long time before that day comes.”
A small laughter escaped his lips, as his left fist slowly turns back into a hand and his right hand falls back down to near his waist. Oh, how grand were the opportunities that lied beyond him. The opportunity to take a large step in ascending back to his former status as the absolute best around – something Chris Strike felt he earned throughout the years of venturing arenas of all shapes and sizes across the entire globe.
“I have gotten a lot of flack since arriving here. Between all the accusations that I’ve apparently stepped over the toes of many of APW’s ‘Mega Stars’ – whether they’re permanent stays or new hopefuls the company hopes to groom into the future. It’s amusing just how quickly the reactions went from holy shit, Strike’s in APW to this motherfucker’s taking all my opportunities and he hasn’t earned shit. The one-eighty was astronomically fast. A part of me is impressed at how quick the turnaround took while the other part of me saw it coming. All it took was one match and me beating the holy hell out of a few people, including a has-been who will most likely never, ever get a chance at a World title again and some other guy who’s probably running game shows in Germany while serving up a suspension. And those are just two of the vocal ones…”
He paused, taking in a deep breath before turning around almost instantly. His chocolate-brown eyes displayed an ardor unseen within him for years, a fiery will that would not be broken. But even behind that stare, Chris Strike fully wore a rather sardonic smile on his face, the kind that reflected what it came with being the well-known figure across the world making his way into a stacked deck and immediately turning out to be a better card than half the hands that had been inside of the company for a long period of time.
“APW’s Suicidal champion, Jason Kash, for example…now that’s one I was expecting to raise his voice loud and proud before Knuckles and Raab got to it. He’s a ‘company guy.’ He has been since day one. That’s what they’re supposed to do to the new blood, to those who try to make their mark in this place. I know that feeling, Jason. The fact is, I once had a place that I held near and dear to my heart like you hold APW near and dear to yours and prior to closing its doors in 2008, I defended that place and made myself its marquee guy with every fiber of my being. I know the position well enough to understand any and all beef you may have with me sauntering into your view after winning just one match to challenge you for the Suicidal title you wear, in the Asylum brand that you claim to have helped bring into a new era…I can respect the words and I can certainly respect the body of work that has led to those words and a Grand Slam…”
Walking briskly, sandals kicking the dirt beneath them with each step, Strike found a rather old part of a broken column. His left hand swept at any dirt and dust specks around it before he gradually sat down on it, arms resting in his thighs as he eyed the camera lens.
“But comparing the Jason Kash I’ve seen strutting around for the past few weeks to the one whose tapes I’ve been watching from ages back…well, let me put it this way. It feels as if you have become stagnant, Jason Kash. Maybe it’s the Grand Slam accolade, maybe it’s been the lack of competition but for heaven’s sakes, all these past matches against guys like Jair Hopkins, Stefan Raab, Yarmouth, Johnny Sykes…matches where you should be crushing scrubs like this with ease instead of struggling until damn near the last minute or finding your shoulders being put on the mat. Whether you like it or not, you’ve been scraping by ever since you damn near killed Michael Callahan for that Suicidal title and it’s hard to believe that you are the same guy who was damn near knocking people’s heads for a World Heavyweight title last year around inside the Elimination Chamber and proving to be one of the best that wrestling has to offer!”
Chris paused, letting the words sink in for a few moments before driving his point across to the so-called “Influential One,” the proverbial gatekeeper who would be bringing every single piece of his arsenal inside a no-holds barred brawl for one of APW’s prized possessions.
“For all your bark, Jason, your influence is the exact same as of that of these temples behind me. It is enriched in history, it has a luster of greatness left behind it but all that’s left out of it is nothing more than ruins that people willingly pass by without so much as a second glance and that thought infuriates you, doesn’t it? You probably think I’m the exact same, don’t you? That I’m just looking right through you and at the fifteen pounds of gold that Sally Talfourd currently holds.
Well, abandon your arrogance or otherwise, I’m going to take that title off your waist look absolutely and utterly easy!”
The more he studied Jason Kash, the more Chris Strike believed this match had a bigger purpose than expected for his own newfound journey. Ever since watching men that he respects in a professional basis rise up to the levels that they have and watching his own career stay at a comfortable course, well, it began to drive him insane. For many years, the biggest thing a man like Strike has taken pride in is the fact that he was always “in the chase.” Even if he was a long shot for it, he was always seeking more than what he had, always challenging himself to go a step further up, even if it meant falling down a few steps in the process and having to climb up again.
“I am not looking past you, Kash. Not by a long shot. In fact, I’m going to go right through you in the most defiant manner possible, bursting the doors wide open to my stay here in Action Packed Wrestling. I have come to this company with a purpose, Jason, and that purpose is to evolve, to become even better than what I am right now. It doesn’t matter if they had kept me on Meltdown, if they drafted me to Asylum or if they tossed me into Overdrive. It won’t matter who they put me up against, Jason Kash. I’m willing to make my way up the mountain, even if that means possibly stumbling down and falling down a few times during the climb…
Whether you’d like to admit it or not, for all the talk about competition, for all your talk about how much blood and chaos you’ll cause in order to bring this place its infamy, you have not delivered on your promise, because you have been far too busy settling down for being the mountain’s gatekeeper instead of the guy standing tall at its summit…and it’s disappointing. Because what you used to be and this thing that you are now, skilled and willing to shed blood as you are Jason, you could be so much more and yet, you choose to wallow in this comfort zone and act like it’s only the competition around you that should be getting better instead of bettering yourself with each and every week.
And there’s the difference. You are content where you are, Jason Kash.
I am not content with where I am and I won’t just settle for a nice little spot mountainside because of my name and the so-called ‘hype’ that it carries.
That’s not good enough for me and if that makes me enemy number one in your book, so fucking be it!”
Chris stood up from his seat at the pillar, breathing in and out regularly as the cameras close in on his upper body as he crosses his arms, glancing over at the temples again before returning his gaze to the camera lens.
“My path lies beyond being a relic of the past. My path lies beyond these temples built here, beyond the imaginations of any fallen, mortal man. My path beckons me to its destination like the sweet ambrosia that I once tasted in a daily basis. It beckons me to the stepping-stone lodged between mortality and immortality. It beckons me to the hallowed grounds where I shall meet new challenges, beckons me to climbing up to the top of the Mount and to someday, reach it again. But in order to do so, I have to go through a man whose suicidal tendencies have been a real stagnant piece of work lately.
Some of APW’s ‘Mega Stars’ found out exactly what the hell I am capable of doing with a set of weapons in my hand at One Night in Hell. A small sample size of what I can bring to the Suicidal division and the experience I’ve accumulated. Come my debut in Asylum, Jason Kash, you will learn quickly how creative I can get with the punishment I deliver, you will comprehend just how stubborn I am when it comes to letting some stagnant mortal try to have his way with me and most importantly, you will have it pounded within your skull again and again just how much of a difference there is between us.
You wanted a goddamn challenge?! Well, wake up, because it’s coming down from the heavens themselves to dish out a little dose of calamity, brutality and goddamn bloodshed of the likes which hasn’t been seen in this division in quite some time. Influential as you may be, thirsty for putting a beating on a complete outsider as you may wish to do, at the end of the day, the difference is clear. You and these temples share the similarity of being a relic of the past!”
No longer did the chocolate-brown eyes that belonged to the God of Thunder appear in their usual fiery determination. They displayed an obsession, a carnal desire, a longing for the battle that was ahead of him, a longing to show every single person in APW that he was not just some run-of-the-mill egomaniac, but a presence whose name they should stare at in each and every single weekly card and feel sorry for the schmuck who is fighting him that night
“And come Asylum, once I’m done with you…there isn’t a damned thing you will be able to do about it!”
