Post by Azrael Goeren on Dec 5, 2012 18:54:33 GMT -4
Michael Robinson grabs hold of his faded leather briefcase from the passenger's seat and trudges out of his rental car. After taking a brief survey of his surroundings, he spots his destination and lets out a deep sigh.
Of course this would be the place.
Mike crosses the street and stands in front of a glass monstrosity of a building. The stylish blue and white lettering on the sign outside welcomes the affluent to pass through the doors and enter the chic and no-doubt painfully overpriced world of Limani Restaurant.
Mike rolls his eyes and presses onward, stepping into a garish atrium with a low-hanging gold chandelier and double wall mirrors that give him a sense of claustrophobia. He attempts to peek through the gold curtains that lead into the dining room and bar area, but he's quickly stopped by the maître d’ who looks him over and immediately casts judgment.
I'm sorry sir, the McDonalds is further down the street.
First off, it’s pronounced "MCDonalds" not "MacDonalds". Saying it like that just makes you reek of douchebaggery. Secondly, I'm here to meet my employer.
And whom might I ask is your "employer"?
Dude. Seriously. Don't do that air quote thing with your hand ever again.
I'm waiting.
Just look in your little book for Henrik Goeren. Might be under Azrael. Might be under one of his thousands of pseudonyms he uses just to mess with me. Check for Gunther Von Shabadoo...that’s a favorite of his.
The maître d’ stares blankly into Mike's face and swallows hard.
I'm very sorry sir, I was unaware you were a guest of Mr. Goeren's. He's been a wonderful patron to us over the last few years.
Uh-huh. More like he's wasted thousands of dollars here in attempts to pick up Long Island trash like you.
I deserve that.
Just point me in his direction, I've got a few things…
Before Mike can finish his sentence, a loud crash can be heard from the bar area followed by a string of obscenities in a heavy German accent.
Never mind. I know where to look.
Mike walks through the curtains and into the main dining room area as several appalled customers have left their tables and made their way to the exits. Standing at the bar near the far end of the dining room is Azrael Goeren, dressed in a velvet red suit and a gold bowler hat. Goeren is in hysterics, laughing uncontrollably at the bartender as Mike notices three broken bar stools off to the side along with a shattered mirror behind the bar. Next to Azrael is a woman with long black hair and wearing a revealing red cocktail dress.
Mike winces upon seeing her.
Angel.
Azrael picked her up at the strip club she was working at last week and she hasn't left his side since. She has been nothing but a nuisance since Azrael "liberated" her, Mike thinks to himself.
Angel is screaming at the top of her lungs at the stunned bartender, reaching over the bar and grabbing onto his shirt collar. Azrael pulls her back with a laugh and they share a very public and very gratuitous kiss before Goeren notices Mike from across the room.
Michael! Mein lieblings homoerotischen kinderschänder! Get on over here and have a drink!
Mike shakes his head in disbelief and picks his way through the bewildered crowd. After spending so many years with this sociopath, these scenes hardly surprise him anymore.
So wonderful of you to show! Can I get you a drink?
Azrael stops and turns towards the bartender, pointing at him groggily.
Keep it simple though, this man doesn't know his liquor. He didn't know what an Arkansas Sunrise was.
What's that?
Grenadine, grain alcohol and Dayquil.
That sounds like an abomination to God.
Fine, I’ll keep it simple for you. Barkeep...fetch my assistant here the finest Keystone Light you have. Something in a 2011 can?
The bartender throws his hands up in frustration and simply walks away. Before he can leave though, Angel chimes in and continues her earlier tirade towards him.
Yeah you better walk away, punk! Don't you eyeball me again or my man here will tear your head off!
Yeah!
Your man?
That's right. We're together now. He told me so.
What was he inhaling when he told you that?
Screw you.
No thank you. I enjoy not having herpes.
Did you hear what he said to me? Why don’t you come over here and say that? I'll mess you up!
I don't want to get too close, I'm pretty sure your hepatitis has become airborne.
All you've done since me and Henrik got together is bitch! Is there ever a time when you're not PMSing?
Ha! Love it.
I don't know, is there ever a time when you're sober and not a total bitch?
HA!
Angel lunges for Mike, screaming like a banshee the entire time. Mike recoils backwards and uses his briefcase as a shield before Angel is intercepted by Goeren. Azrael whispers something to her and digs into his pants pocket, grabbing a wad of cash and placing it in her hands. Angel's eyes burn with fury and she mouths "fuck you" silently to Mike before she takes the cash and gives Azrael a groan-inducing sloppy kiss. She steps out of her heels, one of which has broken during the melee and walks out of the dining room. She stops at the door just to flip Mike off before she steps out of the restaurant completely.
Vas?
What are you still doing with that woman, Goeren? She's psychotic!
You just have to get to know her a little better, that's all.
She's bad juju. I know the leaches when I see them.
Let me have my fun with her, she definitely has her uses.
Azrael raises an eyebrow suggestively.
I mean sexually.
Yeah. I got it. Way to be subtle there.
Thank you, I try. Did you bring the paperwork by the way?
Mike tosses his briefcase up on the bar and pops it open, grabbing a stack of papers and a pen from the case. Goeren immediately snatches the pen and starts signing the papers at a furious pace.
You don't want to make sure they're all correct before you start spending money? How very...you.
My instructions were very specific, I don't see how you could have screwed them up. I want more t-shirts. I want more hats. I want advertising time bought on every medium we can get our hands on. I want everyone and their mother to make sure they are snuggled up on the couch come December 23rd with Christmas Chaos on their televisions and their favorite Goeren Gear on their body. This is extremely important to not just me, but APW's continued success. We must break records for this pay-per-view Michael...I must have the largest audience in APW history witness me ruining Mark Mania for good.
You're willing to spend this much in order to make that happen?
Absolutely. Hell, I'd double the cost if I could. My match at Christmas Chaos will be something that wrestling fans will be telling their grandchildren about long after I'm dead and buried. I'm doing a public service for them all by making sure they watch it live. Could you imagine their reaction if they missed the biggest moment in APW history? The cleansing of everything old and archaic in APW and replacing it with a company built in my image? If any wrestling fans miss that, they are very likely to commit suicide. I just know it. I can't have that on my conscience.
Glad to see your humility shining through during the holidays.
Mike gathers up the freshly signed papers and puts them back into the briefcase. Meanwhile, Goeren has started to dig behind the bar and comes back with a bottle of Hennessy and two cognac snifters.
I got to admit, I didn't think I'd find you in such a festive mood.
Why's that?
Well, considering you've got to team up with a man I know you dislike just to get your hands on Mania and Delikado this week.
Azrael smiles and pours out two drinks. Instead of sliding one to Mike, he quickly downs both of them and lets out a satisfied "Ahhhhh" at the end.
On the contrary, I'm absolutely overjoyed that I'm teaming with Shadow . So much in fact that I've already scheduled a meeting with him later on tonight.
You're kidding.
Nein! Actually I told him I'd meet him at the Off Key Tikki Lounge in about an hour.
So...what? You're going to not show up and leave him there? You're going to call in a fake bomb threat to the bar?
I'm going to meet him there and talk strategy over shrimp and drinks.
Mike stares back at his employer, completely dumbfounded.
You hate this guy though. I personally watched you punch several holes in a hotel room wall when you heard what he said about you during the Turkey Bowl elimination match...and he was on your team!
A misunderstanding, I'm completely sure of it. He just needs to be shown the light. Besides, look at Mania and Delikado...do you honestly think either of them are going to be able to work with each other after what they put each other through over the last few months? I can put up with Shadow's old-fashioned outlook on this business if it means getting my hands on that self-righteous blowhard Mark Mania before Christmas Chaos.
Azrael smiles and pours two more drinks, this time having the common decency to slide one over to his associate. He leans up against the bar, looking like a man who is extremely at ease with everything in his life.
Let me say this though about Shadow. I never in a million years thought we'd share common footing on anything, but his war of his against that puppet Delikado has got me tickled pink. Delikado is experiencing the same sensation with Shadow that he experienced when he fought me.
He's crumbling.
Sure Delikado is all piss and vinegar when he's on the microphone, but when words turn into actions he doesn't know what to do with himself. Shadow has gotten in Delikado's simple-minded head, moving all of the Dr. Seuss-like furniture around and repainting the polka-dotted walls. You know what my Cuban buddy reminds me of these days?
A chicken with his head cut off, running around the farm in a wild and uncontrolled frenzy.
Sure it’s scary.
Sure it’s freaky.
Sure it’s alarming.
But in the end he's just going on instinct and is minutes away from kicking off for good. He knows this...both him and Envi know that Shadow has gotten to them, so how does Delikado respond? The same way he tried to respond to me...childish antics like making fun of names and breaking out the memes. So utterly predictable, but hey...if that's what makes Deli sleep at night more power to him. He wants to think he's in control here, but it’s obvious to everyone just how much damage Shadow is doing to him. Look no further than his inability to progress in the tag-team tournament. Envikado was hands down the favorite to take the vacant titles, but sure enough Delikado gets distracted and ends up staring at the lights for three seconds.
Poof.
There goes the tag-team titles for Envikado and another ha-halarious rant from Delikado on why it wasn't his fault he got beat by Speede. It wasn't his fault when I beat him. It wasn't his fault when Shadow chased him off at last Overdrive and surely it won’t be his fault when we beat him to a bloody pulp at Overdrive.
Unfortunately for Delikado, he's gotten in my way one more time. Can't say that I haven't enjoyed his overconfident ramblings or him putting me down every chance he's gotten. It's quite impressive really...I tossed him around the ring like he was nothing and yet he still refuses to acknowledge that I'm worth a damn. I love that type of attitude though. You just don't feel any remorse when you hurt people like that. I've always said that Delikado is a crazed animal, but he's an animal I'm always leery about. I respect what he's capable of but I'm smart enough to avoid his little mental traps and bring it all crashing down on him when I finally get my hands on him in the ring. Apparently in his world, I do not warrant similar treatment. I'm just the German intruder with no skill, no talent and a big mouth. If that’s the way he still thinks about me, then I believe its time our little tango comes to an end. Maybe I'll be the one to knock him into full-fledged insanity. Maybe it'll be Shadow. But it will most definitely happen at Overdrive.
It’s funny though, as delusional as Delikado is he doesn't even come close to the self-denial that Mark Mania currently finds himself neck deep in.
Azrael downs his drink in one big gulp, slapping the glass on the table with a smile.
He beat you last week though, that’s worth something.
The demented German lets out a hearty chuckle, pouring himself another drink and topping off Mike's barely touched glass.
Did he now?
Now who is delusional? You can't ignore the fact that Mania beat you.
He received a "win" over me, that I will attest to. A statistical tally in APW's storied history books with a dash in the "W" column for Mark Mania.
Did he beat me though?
Did he brutalize my beyond recognition? Did he pin my exhausted shoulders to the mat? Did he make me tap out?
No.
Mania did none of these things. The only thing that Mania did was scream and whine and plead for mercy while I had him locked in my cloverleaf. I had this champion...a man who believes himself to be this untouchable paragon of everything that is right with APW and the Overdrive Title...begging the referee to make me stop and let go of the hold.
I thought about it for a brief moment, I truly did.
Then I thought...why not twist the knife deeper and see what type of hero Mark Mania truly is? We got our answers didn't we? He's a man who will take a pyrrhic disqualification "win" over me instead of digging down deep and truly fighting back like the champion he pretends to be. I exposed him as the sham I said he was leading up to our match last week, a weakling who hides behind his belt and acts like he's better than everyone else in APW while demanding the fan's admiration like a ransom.
Mark Mania has been in this business a very long time, he knows just as well as I do how to play with the sheep in the stands. I milk them for tickets and merchandise. He demands their love like a demi-god and they are stupid enough to give it to him.
Let’s see how things change though after Overdrive. Let me be perfectly clear...I choose to get disqualified because I wanted to torture him. I don't play goofy games like Delikado and I don't scheme and dream like the overproduced Sindicate. I'm in APW because this promotion needs a baptism in debauchery and I'm the perfect man to bless it. Mark Mania is the false prophet, the wolf in sheep's clothing. I'm no saint, but I've never claimed to be one like Mania. What I am is a man with convictions who will not be swayed by anyone or anything. I deserve the spotlight here in APW because I'm the most talented wrestler here and I'm depraved enough to prove it week in and week out.
Look no further for proof of Mania's delusions than how he reacted when I demanded he put the Overdrive Title on the line at Christmas Chaos. He whimpered and shied away, desperate not to lose the one thing that makes him relevant at this point in his career. So much for the big hero. So much for the champion of champions.
He needs to know that I am exactly where I want to be with him. If I wanted to beat him at Overdrive cleanly, rest assured I would have done so. If I wanted to have him wheeled out of Providence on a stretcher, I would have made sure one would have been standing by.
I decided that stripping him of his dignity and showing the world what a true coward looks like was more rewarding than a notch in the record books for me. At this upcoming Overdrive, I take the next step with him. I peel back another layer of Mark Mania and horrify the crowd at what is underneath.
Not a champion. Not a Mega Star.
A sniveling coward who doesn't know when it’s time to get out of the way of the future of APW. Years from now, fans of APW will look back at this tag-team match as the beginning of the end for Mark Mania's illustrious career...and the beginning of my ascension.
Goeren downs the rest of his drink and glances down at his watch, his eyes widening.
Verdammt zur Hölle, why didn't you tell me what time it was? I've got to get going! Last thing I want to do is not get a good table at the Tikki Lounge and be forced to sit with the common folk. You got my tab, right?
Mike sighs and digs out his wallet.
Good man.
I'm paying with your money you know.
Good man. Oh and do me a favor? Make sure Angel gets home safely after shopping, ja?
Could I take her out to the woods and shoot her instead?
Nein. She has her uses after all...
Azrael Goeren sits with his legs crossed at the Off Key Tikki Lounge, two drinks already ordered at his table. Each drink is adorned with about a thousand multi-colored umbrellas and is served in a coconut glass carved in the shape of a monkey. In the middle of the table is a large plate filled with fried shrimp and scallops which Azrael is casually picking at while he awaits his guest for the evening. Every time the door opens, Azrael glances up and is constantly disappointed by each popped collar Long Islander who stumbles in.
The German glances down at his watch, only to have someone clear his throat in front of him. Azrael looks up and sees the ominous Shadow standing there, his arms crossed against his massive chest.
Nice place, Goeren. You're real subtle.
Mein freund, you have no idea how many times people tell me that.
Azrael stands up and holds his arms out wide, a big smile on his face.
Uh, what are you doing?
Its called a bro-hug. I learned it here on Long Island.
Yeah-no, we're not doing that.
Hey, I bought you shrimp! I bought you a drink! I'm trying to be civil here with your heathen...achem...with you.
Shadow grabs hold of the drink and brings it to his nose, giving it a quick sniff.
What did you spike it with?
Nothing! Why...you want something? I got a bunch of poppers in my car. That would totally bond us! Maybe even loosen you up a bit big man.
Shadow says nothing, instead looking like he'd rather be in a thousand different places rather then right here, right now. He pulls out one of the wooden seats and sits down, his massive frame barely big enough for the small chair. He scans over the food for a moment before pushing the drink out of his way. He says flatly...
I don't drink.
That's okay. I'll drink it for you. Now then, I think we need to get something right out in the open if this team is going to work together at Overdrive.
For a moment Shadow seems surprised. He ponders on that statement and responds.
You know, I'm a little shocked I'm about to say this; but you're absolutely right. We do.
I'm talking of course about our team name.
Wait? What?
Now, I was originally thinking of something like a portmanteau of our names...like Shadoeren or Azradow but both of them sounded too much like Street Fighter 2 moves so I voted them down. Then it hit me while I was in the shower this morning...The Dark Reich! How ominous and awesome does that sound? Think about it...that incorporates my proud Teutonic background with your...shadowness! That's win-win baby!
You know Goeren. I've heard you say some stupid stuff since showing up on Overdrive, but that takes the cake. How else can I say this? No.
Oh. Right. Hey, that's okay. We'll keep brainstorming on a team name. Not like I had the t-shirts printed up already or anything...
How about we just stay focused on the task at hand, okay? You know that I don't like you. The crap that you said before our elimination match was insulting. Especially to a guy like me, who has fought tooth and nail to get where he is in this business. I've bled for APW while all you've done is stroll in and demand things be handed to you. That type of disrespect straight pisses me off. And then, on top of it all, when the match actually starts all you did was just hang back and let the rest of us fight the match for you. I didn't forget that Goeren and I sure as hell won't forgive it. You try any of that against Delikado and Mania and I'll take you out myself, as soon as I'm done with them of course.
Azrael's fake smile immediately evaporates as he holds his hands up as if to surrender.
Hey, easy there. Last thing I want to do is ruffle the feathers of an APW Hall of Famer like you.
Azrael leans over the table with a smirk.
At least not yet. Until that day arrives though and I find you in my crosshairs, lets pretend to play nice for a week so we both can get what we want, ja?
Shadow says nothing, he just stares back at the sleazy Goeren who sits back in his chair and folds his hands politely on top of the table. Shadow sees right though the act. But despite it all he actually smirks too.
So then...let's talk strategy...
Of course this would be the place.
Mike crosses the street and stands in front of a glass monstrosity of a building. The stylish blue and white lettering on the sign outside welcomes the affluent to pass through the doors and enter the chic and no-doubt painfully overpriced world of Limani Restaurant.
Mike rolls his eyes and presses onward, stepping into a garish atrium with a low-hanging gold chandelier and double wall mirrors that give him a sense of claustrophobia. He attempts to peek through the gold curtains that lead into the dining room and bar area, but he's quickly stopped by the maître d’ who looks him over and immediately casts judgment.
I'm sorry sir, the McDonalds is further down the street.
First off, it’s pronounced "MCDonalds" not "MacDonalds". Saying it like that just makes you reek of douchebaggery. Secondly, I'm here to meet my employer.
And whom might I ask is your "employer"?
Dude. Seriously. Don't do that air quote thing with your hand ever again.
I'm waiting.
Just look in your little book for Henrik Goeren. Might be under Azrael. Might be under one of his thousands of pseudonyms he uses just to mess with me. Check for Gunther Von Shabadoo...that’s a favorite of his.
The maître d’ stares blankly into Mike's face and swallows hard.
I'm very sorry sir, I was unaware you were a guest of Mr. Goeren's. He's been a wonderful patron to us over the last few years.
Uh-huh. More like he's wasted thousands of dollars here in attempts to pick up Long Island trash like you.
I deserve that.
Just point me in his direction, I've got a few things…
Before Mike can finish his sentence, a loud crash can be heard from the bar area followed by a string of obscenities in a heavy German accent.
Never mind. I know where to look.
Mike walks through the curtains and into the main dining room area as several appalled customers have left their tables and made their way to the exits. Standing at the bar near the far end of the dining room is Azrael Goeren, dressed in a velvet red suit and a gold bowler hat. Goeren is in hysterics, laughing uncontrollably at the bartender as Mike notices three broken bar stools off to the side along with a shattered mirror behind the bar. Next to Azrael is a woman with long black hair and wearing a revealing red cocktail dress.
Mike winces upon seeing her.
Angel.
Azrael picked her up at the strip club she was working at last week and she hasn't left his side since. She has been nothing but a nuisance since Azrael "liberated" her, Mike thinks to himself.
Angel is screaming at the top of her lungs at the stunned bartender, reaching over the bar and grabbing onto his shirt collar. Azrael pulls her back with a laugh and they share a very public and very gratuitous kiss before Goeren notices Mike from across the room.
Michael! Mein lieblings homoerotischen kinderschänder! Get on over here and have a drink!
Mike shakes his head in disbelief and picks his way through the bewildered crowd. After spending so many years with this sociopath, these scenes hardly surprise him anymore.
So wonderful of you to show! Can I get you a drink?
Azrael stops and turns towards the bartender, pointing at him groggily.
Keep it simple though, this man doesn't know his liquor. He didn't know what an Arkansas Sunrise was.
What's that?
Grenadine, grain alcohol and Dayquil.
That sounds like an abomination to God.
Fine, I’ll keep it simple for you. Barkeep...fetch my assistant here the finest Keystone Light you have. Something in a 2011 can?
The bartender throws his hands up in frustration and simply walks away. Before he can leave though, Angel chimes in and continues her earlier tirade towards him.
Yeah you better walk away, punk! Don't you eyeball me again or my man here will tear your head off!
Yeah!
Your man?
That's right. We're together now. He told me so.
What was he inhaling when he told you that?
Screw you.
No thank you. I enjoy not having herpes.
Did you hear what he said to me? Why don’t you come over here and say that? I'll mess you up!
I don't want to get too close, I'm pretty sure your hepatitis has become airborne.
All you've done since me and Henrik got together is bitch! Is there ever a time when you're not PMSing?
Ha! Love it.
I don't know, is there ever a time when you're sober and not a total bitch?
HA!
Angel lunges for Mike, screaming like a banshee the entire time. Mike recoils backwards and uses his briefcase as a shield before Angel is intercepted by Goeren. Azrael whispers something to her and digs into his pants pocket, grabbing a wad of cash and placing it in her hands. Angel's eyes burn with fury and she mouths "fuck you" silently to Mike before she takes the cash and gives Azrael a groan-inducing sloppy kiss. She steps out of her heels, one of which has broken during the melee and walks out of the dining room. She stops at the door just to flip Mike off before she steps out of the restaurant completely.
Vas?
What are you still doing with that woman, Goeren? She's psychotic!
You just have to get to know her a little better, that's all.
She's bad juju. I know the leaches when I see them.
Let me have my fun with her, she definitely has her uses.
Azrael raises an eyebrow suggestively.
I mean sexually.
Yeah. I got it. Way to be subtle there.
Thank you, I try. Did you bring the paperwork by the way?
Mike tosses his briefcase up on the bar and pops it open, grabbing a stack of papers and a pen from the case. Goeren immediately snatches the pen and starts signing the papers at a furious pace.
You don't want to make sure they're all correct before you start spending money? How very...you.
My instructions were very specific, I don't see how you could have screwed them up. I want more t-shirts. I want more hats. I want advertising time bought on every medium we can get our hands on. I want everyone and their mother to make sure they are snuggled up on the couch come December 23rd with Christmas Chaos on their televisions and their favorite Goeren Gear on their body. This is extremely important to not just me, but APW's continued success. We must break records for this pay-per-view Michael...I must have the largest audience in APW history witness me ruining Mark Mania for good.
You're willing to spend this much in order to make that happen?
Absolutely. Hell, I'd double the cost if I could. My match at Christmas Chaos will be something that wrestling fans will be telling their grandchildren about long after I'm dead and buried. I'm doing a public service for them all by making sure they watch it live. Could you imagine their reaction if they missed the biggest moment in APW history? The cleansing of everything old and archaic in APW and replacing it with a company built in my image? If any wrestling fans miss that, they are very likely to commit suicide. I just know it. I can't have that on my conscience.
Glad to see your humility shining through during the holidays.
Mike gathers up the freshly signed papers and puts them back into the briefcase. Meanwhile, Goeren has started to dig behind the bar and comes back with a bottle of Hennessy and two cognac snifters.
I got to admit, I didn't think I'd find you in such a festive mood.
Why's that?
Well, considering you've got to team up with a man I know you dislike just to get your hands on Mania and Delikado this week.
Azrael smiles and pours out two drinks. Instead of sliding one to Mike, he quickly downs both of them and lets out a satisfied "Ahhhhh" at the end.
On the contrary, I'm absolutely overjoyed that I'm teaming with Shadow . So much in fact that I've already scheduled a meeting with him later on tonight.
You're kidding.
Nein! Actually I told him I'd meet him at the Off Key Tikki Lounge in about an hour.
So...what? You're going to not show up and leave him there? You're going to call in a fake bomb threat to the bar?
I'm going to meet him there and talk strategy over shrimp and drinks.
Mike stares back at his employer, completely dumbfounded.
You hate this guy though. I personally watched you punch several holes in a hotel room wall when you heard what he said about you during the Turkey Bowl elimination match...and he was on your team!
A misunderstanding, I'm completely sure of it. He just needs to be shown the light. Besides, look at Mania and Delikado...do you honestly think either of them are going to be able to work with each other after what they put each other through over the last few months? I can put up with Shadow's old-fashioned outlook on this business if it means getting my hands on that self-righteous blowhard Mark Mania before Christmas Chaos.
Azrael smiles and pours two more drinks, this time having the common decency to slide one over to his associate. He leans up against the bar, looking like a man who is extremely at ease with everything in his life.
Let me say this though about Shadow. I never in a million years thought we'd share common footing on anything, but his war of his against that puppet Delikado has got me tickled pink. Delikado is experiencing the same sensation with Shadow that he experienced when he fought me.
He's crumbling.
Sure Delikado is all piss and vinegar when he's on the microphone, but when words turn into actions he doesn't know what to do with himself. Shadow has gotten in Delikado's simple-minded head, moving all of the Dr. Seuss-like furniture around and repainting the polka-dotted walls. You know what my Cuban buddy reminds me of these days?
A chicken with his head cut off, running around the farm in a wild and uncontrolled frenzy.
Sure it’s scary.
Sure it’s freaky.
Sure it’s alarming.
But in the end he's just going on instinct and is minutes away from kicking off for good. He knows this...both him and Envi know that Shadow has gotten to them, so how does Delikado respond? The same way he tried to respond to me...childish antics like making fun of names and breaking out the memes. So utterly predictable, but hey...if that's what makes Deli sleep at night more power to him. He wants to think he's in control here, but it’s obvious to everyone just how much damage Shadow is doing to him. Look no further than his inability to progress in the tag-team tournament. Envikado was hands down the favorite to take the vacant titles, but sure enough Delikado gets distracted and ends up staring at the lights for three seconds.
Poof.
There goes the tag-team titles for Envikado and another ha-halarious rant from Delikado on why it wasn't his fault he got beat by Speede. It wasn't his fault when I beat him. It wasn't his fault when Shadow chased him off at last Overdrive and surely it won’t be his fault when we beat him to a bloody pulp at Overdrive.
Unfortunately for Delikado, he's gotten in my way one more time. Can't say that I haven't enjoyed his overconfident ramblings or him putting me down every chance he's gotten. It's quite impressive really...I tossed him around the ring like he was nothing and yet he still refuses to acknowledge that I'm worth a damn. I love that type of attitude though. You just don't feel any remorse when you hurt people like that. I've always said that Delikado is a crazed animal, but he's an animal I'm always leery about. I respect what he's capable of but I'm smart enough to avoid his little mental traps and bring it all crashing down on him when I finally get my hands on him in the ring. Apparently in his world, I do not warrant similar treatment. I'm just the German intruder with no skill, no talent and a big mouth. If that’s the way he still thinks about me, then I believe its time our little tango comes to an end. Maybe I'll be the one to knock him into full-fledged insanity. Maybe it'll be Shadow. But it will most definitely happen at Overdrive.
It’s funny though, as delusional as Delikado is he doesn't even come close to the self-denial that Mark Mania currently finds himself neck deep in.
Azrael downs his drink in one big gulp, slapping the glass on the table with a smile.
He beat you last week though, that’s worth something.
The demented German lets out a hearty chuckle, pouring himself another drink and topping off Mike's barely touched glass.
Did he now?
Now who is delusional? You can't ignore the fact that Mania beat you.
He received a "win" over me, that I will attest to. A statistical tally in APW's storied history books with a dash in the "W" column for Mark Mania.
Did he beat me though?
Did he brutalize my beyond recognition? Did he pin my exhausted shoulders to the mat? Did he make me tap out?
No.
Mania did none of these things. The only thing that Mania did was scream and whine and plead for mercy while I had him locked in my cloverleaf. I had this champion...a man who believes himself to be this untouchable paragon of everything that is right with APW and the Overdrive Title...begging the referee to make me stop and let go of the hold.
I thought about it for a brief moment, I truly did.
Then I thought...why not twist the knife deeper and see what type of hero Mark Mania truly is? We got our answers didn't we? He's a man who will take a pyrrhic disqualification "win" over me instead of digging down deep and truly fighting back like the champion he pretends to be. I exposed him as the sham I said he was leading up to our match last week, a weakling who hides behind his belt and acts like he's better than everyone else in APW while demanding the fan's admiration like a ransom.
Mark Mania has been in this business a very long time, he knows just as well as I do how to play with the sheep in the stands. I milk them for tickets and merchandise. He demands their love like a demi-god and they are stupid enough to give it to him.
Let’s see how things change though after Overdrive. Let me be perfectly clear...I choose to get disqualified because I wanted to torture him. I don't play goofy games like Delikado and I don't scheme and dream like the overproduced Sindicate. I'm in APW because this promotion needs a baptism in debauchery and I'm the perfect man to bless it. Mark Mania is the false prophet, the wolf in sheep's clothing. I'm no saint, but I've never claimed to be one like Mania. What I am is a man with convictions who will not be swayed by anyone or anything. I deserve the spotlight here in APW because I'm the most talented wrestler here and I'm depraved enough to prove it week in and week out.
Look no further for proof of Mania's delusions than how he reacted when I demanded he put the Overdrive Title on the line at Christmas Chaos. He whimpered and shied away, desperate not to lose the one thing that makes him relevant at this point in his career. So much for the big hero. So much for the champion of champions.
He needs to know that I am exactly where I want to be with him. If I wanted to beat him at Overdrive cleanly, rest assured I would have done so. If I wanted to have him wheeled out of Providence on a stretcher, I would have made sure one would have been standing by.
I decided that stripping him of his dignity and showing the world what a true coward looks like was more rewarding than a notch in the record books for me. At this upcoming Overdrive, I take the next step with him. I peel back another layer of Mark Mania and horrify the crowd at what is underneath.
Not a champion. Not a Mega Star.
A sniveling coward who doesn't know when it’s time to get out of the way of the future of APW. Years from now, fans of APW will look back at this tag-team match as the beginning of the end for Mark Mania's illustrious career...and the beginning of my ascension.
Goeren downs the rest of his drink and glances down at his watch, his eyes widening.
Verdammt zur Hölle, why didn't you tell me what time it was? I've got to get going! Last thing I want to do is not get a good table at the Tikki Lounge and be forced to sit with the common folk. You got my tab, right?
Mike sighs and digs out his wallet.
Good man.
I'm paying with your money you know.
Good man. Oh and do me a favor? Make sure Angel gets home safely after shopping, ja?
Could I take her out to the woods and shoot her instead?
Nein. She has her uses after all...
***************************************************
Azrael Goeren sits with his legs crossed at the Off Key Tikki Lounge, two drinks already ordered at his table. Each drink is adorned with about a thousand multi-colored umbrellas and is served in a coconut glass carved in the shape of a monkey. In the middle of the table is a large plate filled with fried shrimp and scallops which Azrael is casually picking at while he awaits his guest for the evening. Every time the door opens, Azrael glances up and is constantly disappointed by each popped collar Long Islander who stumbles in.
The German glances down at his watch, only to have someone clear his throat in front of him. Azrael looks up and sees the ominous Shadow standing there, his arms crossed against his massive chest.
Nice place, Goeren. You're real subtle.
Mein freund, you have no idea how many times people tell me that.
Azrael stands up and holds his arms out wide, a big smile on his face.
Uh, what are you doing?
Its called a bro-hug. I learned it here on Long Island.
Yeah-no, we're not doing that.
Hey, I bought you shrimp! I bought you a drink! I'm trying to be civil here with your heathen...achem...with you.
Shadow grabs hold of the drink and brings it to his nose, giving it a quick sniff.
What did you spike it with?
Nothing! Why...you want something? I got a bunch of poppers in my car. That would totally bond us! Maybe even loosen you up a bit big man.
Shadow says nothing, instead looking like he'd rather be in a thousand different places rather then right here, right now. He pulls out one of the wooden seats and sits down, his massive frame barely big enough for the small chair. He scans over the food for a moment before pushing the drink out of his way. He says flatly...
I don't drink.
That's okay. I'll drink it for you. Now then, I think we need to get something right out in the open if this team is going to work together at Overdrive.
For a moment Shadow seems surprised. He ponders on that statement and responds.
You know, I'm a little shocked I'm about to say this; but you're absolutely right. We do.
I'm talking of course about our team name.
Wait? What?
Now, I was originally thinking of something like a portmanteau of our names...like Shadoeren or Azradow but both of them sounded too much like Street Fighter 2 moves so I voted them down. Then it hit me while I was in the shower this morning...The Dark Reich! How ominous and awesome does that sound? Think about it...that incorporates my proud Teutonic background with your...shadowness! That's win-win baby!
You know Goeren. I've heard you say some stupid stuff since showing up on Overdrive, but that takes the cake. How else can I say this? No.
Oh. Right. Hey, that's okay. We'll keep brainstorming on a team name. Not like I had the t-shirts printed up already or anything...
How about we just stay focused on the task at hand, okay? You know that I don't like you. The crap that you said before our elimination match was insulting. Especially to a guy like me, who has fought tooth and nail to get where he is in this business. I've bled for APW while all you've done is stroll in and demand things be handed to you. That type of disrespect straight pisses me off. And then, on top of it all, when the match actually starts all you did was just hang back and let the rest of us fight the match for you. I didn't forget that Goeren and I sure as hell won't forgive it. You try any of that against Delikado and Mania and I'll take you out myself, as soon as I'm done with them of course.
Azrael's fake smile immediately evaporates as he holds his hands up as if to surrender.
Hey, easy there. Last thing I want to do is ruffle the feathers of an APW Hall of Famer like you.
Azrael leans over the table with a smirk.
At least not yet. Until that day arrives though and I find you in my crosshairs, lets pretend to play nice for a week so we both can get what we want, ja?
Shadow says nothing, he just stares back at the sleazy Goeren who sits back in his chair and folds his hands politely on top of the table. Shadow sees right though the act. But despite it all he actually smirks too.
So then...let's talk strategy...
***************************************************
Check Out Shadow's RP For Part 2! Also, Don't Tell Shadow But You Can Get Your Dark Reich T-Shirts For Only $29.95 On GoerenGear.com!
