Post by J-Hop on Jul 12, 2013 23:34:18 GMT -4
AFTER MATCH @ APW’S “TEST FOR THE BEST” PAY PER VIEW
“Two years in a row man, two consecutive losses under my name at “Test For The Best”. Did all I could to push myself to do and still failed. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m not mature enough yet!”
Several sighs are heard as Hopkins shrugs his shoulders.
“Maybe just all the bullcrap I’ve been through, it physically and mentally drained me down to nothing more than a lesser half which was food to the face of A.C Smith.”
A.C Smith, no doubt was at the top of his game. He wanted more than I obviously wanted. While he may have not won the whole ‘shabang’, he pushed it to the limit. It was a challenge, a great, unexpecting challenge. I got a feel of what Overdrive has on their side of the table.
“No J’, you did your best. Don’t drown yourself out with misery. You came a long ways from last year. Next year just might be a big year for you, for us in the tournament like it should have been this year.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
{ WEDNESDAY, JULY 10 2013 | HUNTSVILLE, ALABAMA | 3:09 PM }
“SWEEETTT HOMMEEE, ALA-BAMAAAA...”
Riding in the cockpit seat in the back of the Bronze-colored Land Rover, Bailey was the driver, William was the Shotgun and I sat in the back as we all extended our vocals in the warm, humid air as we drove on the highway, making our way through Alabama to Huntsville. As the station faded from the hip-hop station to the incoming classic rock station, on was the classic “Sweet Home, Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. We felt it was only necessary that we stressed our vocals and scream loud to the song, all off key.
“WHERE THE SKIES ARE SO BLUEEE...”
Singing like we knew all the damn lyrics, only thing that was surprising, seeing how Anthony and Will had joined in right off the bat, knowing the other words beside “Sweet Home, Alabama”.
“SWEEETTT HOMMEEE, ALA-BAMAAAA...”
And it continued ...
“LORDDD, I'M COMIINNNGG HOME TO YOUUUU!”
And the station quickly got changed by Williams as he hit the “Scan” button as it quickly flickered through stations.
“Ehh, enough of that. I can’t ruin this golden voice with screaming like a psycho!”
“All I know, Will and Ant ... Gooch’ would be proud!”
A good laugh came from that line as I stretched out on the backseat of the Land Rover.
“Wake me up when we get to the locale. I need to rest these eyes.”
“Alright, we got you ... like BET!”
...TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER...
“DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE??? ... YOU IN THE JUNGLE, BABY!!”
The weird voice, eerie howls, crows sounding off. Very much different from what it was moments ago. A fun ride-a-long in the backseat. Now it was dark, creepy and damn right haunting.
“WHAT THE FUCK??”
Tied to a tree was the location point. Hands bent backwards and wrapped around half-way of the tree and tied with rope. It was something out of a horror picture as a few feet away was a little set up of logs and fire burning, ready to roast as there was a deer laying down beside it, gutted and ousted of its insides.
“YOU’RE GONNNAA DIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH!!”
That laugh...that fucking maniacal, deranged laugh. It only belonged to one person, one man, one insane bastard. Reaver.
Finally coming into the picture, there he was with a hatchet in hand as he tapped the handle against the inside of his other hand as he looked me up and down like a piece of chicken.
“UNTIE ME, YOU CRAZY BASTARD!!!”
“OH, WHAT’S THE MATTER ‘JAIR-JAIR’? CAN’T ENJOY THE WILDERNESS?”
Fighting desperately for release, nothing was happening. Wiggling like a worm, the rope was not loosening as I had hoped. Fighting valiantly, shaking and hoping for freedom wasn’t coming any closer. Seeing the rope, close and in range of where I wanted. Moving my head down, reaching like never before, my teeth contacted the rope and latching on like a pitbull, I did my best to gnaw on it, hoping to weaken it.
“You really thought you could get away like that? Just go to sleep and not face the consequences? You’re not getting away with murder!”
Sticking the hatchet between my legs, my motion became still as untouched water as he held it there just to see how tense I’d get. Removing it, his sick, sadistic smile returned.
“So tense you are. Don’t worry, it’ll be all over soon, like that poor fucking disgrace of a deer. Blind to the light, blind to it’s death!”
Fighting for escape even quicker, I hid my doings as he really didn’t pay much attention to detail, just what was in front. He saw me tied to the tree. He didn’t see me with the rope, gnawing my teeth to weaken it’s grasp.
“Get ready Hopkins, your death will be blind to you too!”
FINALLY, the section of the rope tore as I could feel my hands gain some relief as to however this was tied up by Reaver. Improperly it was, I remained in position, not making too much movement to be noticed. Moving my arms as the tightness was no longer there, slowly I got one free out of wrap as the left one then slid free. As the rope dropped, there was nothing left. If only he was smart enough to go around my legs.
“Like that deer, you were caught on the wrong side of town.”
He then stepped closer and closer as his humming breathe contacted my eyes.
“Ready for supper?”
He asked as he leaned his head in and with that open opportunity, a headbutt came into play as he fell down. Like Django, I ran fast as Usain Bolt, not knowing where I was going except for in a downhill motion as from distance you can hear Reaver’s yell.
“HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH! I’M GONNA GET YOU HOPKINS!!!’
Running far in the dark, quite a ways now from the lit campfire. I ran like life depended on it.Where was I? I had no absolute fucking clue. Once I see a street light and some life, I’d find my way soon enough.
“Where you going?”
Out of nowhere. Quick, sudden, unexpected.
“AGGGHHHH!!!!”
.................
.................
.................
“Jair ... Wake up!”
“Jair ...”
“HOPKINS!”
A dump of mild-warm water splashing onto my face caused me to rise up in a fighting stance as it was Anthony and William looking with concern as William held the now empty bottle of Dasani water in his hands.
“Wake up, man! We’re here in Huntsville!”
“I hope you dreamt of TDB surrounded by some hot women or something. Calling your name all loud and not hearing, it had to be a good dream!”
I looked at William with a sly smirk.
“You wouldn’t want to know, I’ll just say that!”
Oh man, look at what Mother Nature blew into our sights...
Survive and Conquer, tag-team style. Over and over again, it always come to this question...
Why the hell do you call yourselves “The Dying Breed”? It makes no sense. It makes no fucking sense at all. No one follows, get rid of that bullshit.
Ugh.
Failure to read between the lines. Failure to acknowledge the meaning behind it. People always like to just read the cover and dish it to the side if it doesn't sound right. If it was “50 Shades Of Grey”, they’d be all up in that ass but with a title like “The Dying Breed”, no one wants to read past the cover.
Some may think of it as some zombie shit. Others may think of it as some world-wide apacolypse.
Ugh.
The Dying Breed doesn’t mean we’re dying you fools. It means we are the last of a genre. People tend to want the easy way to do things, take the easy way out, cheap shots, backstabbing. Myself, Anthony Bailey and William D. Williams, we aren’t molded like that. We earn shit our way, the way it supposed to be earned. No shortcuts involved. We like to grind our way to the gold.
I can understand as both Sang Real and The Unforgiven are new to the ‘Asylum’. You guys haven’t given much thought or worry on who the three of us are. As said, new to the show, new to this playground. You seem to be quick learners, I guess. So by the time we step in the ring, you’ll know just who we are and why we are called “The Dying Breed”. It’s not to sound fancy or cryptic. It’s not to be eerie to the audience or to hear an “Ahhh!” from them. It’s all about being who we are. We’re not like most. Sure we’re young in age but our mindset, our development, our skills, it’s old-school.
If it’s confusing for you two teams, don’t worry. It’s gonna’ be alright!
You are challenging the tag team champions. Nothing is alright. You jumped from being in development to stepping right into the hot Sun here on Asylum. Very first match on Asylum is a tag match. If lucky, it will be the night to truly remember for one of you teams. A loss, well, at least you learned some pointers of what to do and what NOT to do next time.
Me and Anthony understand the logic to the match. It doesn’t need to be further explained to us. We can lose by being pinned or letting another one be pinned, whether it’s Unforgiven or Sangria..I mean Sang Real.
You’re born to be champions. That’s good. I was born to survive. So far, so good. Sang Real, you two were probably born with silver spoons in your mouth with all of this “born to be champions” talk. What ya’ll eat for breakfast, Wheaties? Gotta’ love them Wheaties! I respect your hustle and dedication. Growing up under those names, the tutelage and the knowledge. It has responded well to your game thus far. You were told to never fail. Never give up. Never let them see you sweat.
The Unforgiven, Zacharia Blood and The Sentinel. I’d like to first say Clint Eastwood despise of you two for that name. Haha. While I understand this is not the time for bullshit and games, you have to smile sometime in your life. You two have built up some rep to just be placed in this contest against The Dying Breed. The Unforgiven are on a mission to fulfill their destiny. They want to feel gold, they want to surround themselves around it. They want to be seen as “the team to defeat”. Well Unforgiven, it’s going to be one long, tough road for you two. I’m not looking to get you all riled up and upset but these APW World Tag Titles ... They aren’t going anywhere fast.
You can pick on our names, determine the meaning of it, determine if it’s racist or not. Determine whatever the hell you want to consider it as. The two men who stands in front of you with these title. That’s where your focus should be. Not on the name choice. Your dreams of not pinning us to take the title is much easier to say than it is to do. Again, “shortcutting” your way out. You want to be the man, the champion. You need to beat the champion.
Royal blood, huh. Get ready to share some of that blood with the canvas. Afterall you are debuting in the “Asylum Madhouse”.
You guys may be winners but TDB ... We’re all about survival.
In this territory, survivors are heavily favorited. We’ve gone through damn near all the tests. Ask Aubrey and Logan. Ask the others who have said they will be victorious at the end of the night only to realize that it was all just a dream.
I’m just preparing you guys for what is going to go down. On Meltdown you all ruled your side of town. There is no longer anymore Meltdown after the finale. You and everyone else are either on Asylum or Overdrive. The feeling of getting drafted earlier than expected and thrown right to the wolves.
Not the celebration you had in mind.
Throw a title opportunity in it and feel better. That’s what they did and now look. Cocky as ever, ignorant as you were. Failure is coming in big, bubble-shaped letters. Time to hit the damn drawing board.
Ignorance and arrogance will cost you. It might not be today or the day we meet but one day, you two are going to find out just how far ignorance and arrogance will take you before it dries and dies leaving you stranded with an identity crisis.
Holding these titles for as long as we have. It’s not by slipping by or cheating. No, we fought, grinded our ass to depths unseen, all for a strap with a some gold on it. All for a strap that has “APW World Tag Titles” on it. We’re like a band of brothers. We’ve dealt with the many wars that come as being champions. You two are no different. Different look, different swagger with each of you, that’s about all. Once a few minutes past in that ring, all that ‘game film’ on you guys will be much help.
I’m guessing you have watched film too and probably the words “not impressed” would be what comes out of your mouth. It’s been said before. It’s not easy being colored in gold. Always running with a target on your head or chest. Fatigue sets in, that is a total bitch. It’s alot and for you guys to just come in and get this shot. I hate to say it, I really do but ...
I don’t think you’re ready for this level of heat.
The tension is here. We don’t even know each other and the tension is thick. That’s “championship” atmosphere. Who’s going to remain champion or who’s going to be crowned. Will TDB be able to hold off this go-round or will misguided, miscommunication in the end be their downfall? Will they survive or will they finally die off?
No one knows until that second ringing of the bell.
Rolltide.
“Two years in a row man, two consecutive losses under my name at “Test For The Best”. Did all I could to push myself to do and still failed. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m not mature enough yet!”
Several sighs are heard as Hopkins shrugs his shoulders.
“Maybe just all the bullcrap I’ve been through, it physically and mentally drained me down to nothing more than a lesser half which was food to the face of A.C Smith.”
A.C Smith, no doubt was at the top of his game. He wanted more than I obviously wanted. While he may have not won the whole ‘shabang’, he pushed it to the limit. It was a challenge, a great, unexpecting challenge. I got a feel of what Overdrive has on their side of the table.
“No J’, you did your best. Don’t drown yourself out with misery. You came a long ways from last year. Next year just might be a big year for you, for us in the tournament like it should have been this year.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
{ WEDNESDAY, JULY 10 2013 | HUNTSVILLE, ALABAMA | 3:09 PM }
“SWEEETTT HOMMEEE, ALA-BAMAAAA...”
Riding in the cockpit seat in the back of the Bronze-colored Land Rover, Bailey was the driver, William was the Shotgun and I sat in the back as we all extended our vocals in the warm, humid air as we drove on the highway, making our way through Alabama to Huntsville. As the station faded from the hip-hop station to the incoming classic rock station, on was the classic “Sweet Home, Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. We felt it was only necessary that we stressed our vocals and scream loud to the song, all off key.
“WHERE THE SKIES ARE SO BLUEEE...”
Singing like we knew all the damn lyrics, only thing that was surprising, seeing how Anthony and Will had joined in right off the bat, knowing the other words beside “Sweet Home, Alabama”.
“SWEEETTT HOMMEEE, ALA-BAMAAAA...”
And it continued ...
“LORDDD, I'M COMIINNNGG HOME TO YOUUUU!”
And the station quickly got changed by Williams as he hit the “Scan” button as it quickly flickered through stations.
“Ehh, enough of that. I can’t ruin this golden voice with screaming like a psycho!”
“All I know, Will and Ant ... Gooch’ would be proud!”
A good laugh came from that line as I stretched out on the backseat of the Land Rover.
“Wake me up when we get to the locale. I need to rest these eyes.”
“Alright, we got you ... like BET!”
...TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER...
“DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE??? ... YOU IN THE JUNGLE, BABY!!”
The weird voice, eerie howls, crows sounding off. Very much different from what it was moments ago. A fun ride-a-long in the backseat. Now it was dark, creepy and damn right haunting.
“WHAT THE FUCK??”
Tied to a tree was the location point. Hands bent backwards and wrapped around half-way of the tree and tied with rope. It was something out of a horror picture as a few feet away was a little set up of logs and fire burning, ready to roast as there was a deer laying down beside it, gutted and ousted of its insides.
“YOU’RE GONNNAA DIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH!!”
That laugh...that fucking maniacal, deranged laugh. It only belonged to one person, one man, one insane bastard. Reaver.
Finally coming into the picture, there he was with a hatchet in hand as he tapped the handle against the inside of his other hand as he looked me up and down like a piece of chicken.
“UNTIE ME, YOU CRAZY BASTARD!!!”
“OH, WHAT’S THE MATTER ‘JAIR-JAIR’? CAN’T ENJOY THE WILDERNESS?”
Fighting desperately for release, nothing was happening. Wiggling like a worm, the rope was not loosening as I had hoped. Fighting valiantly, shaking and hoping for freedom wasn’t coming any closer. Seeing the rope, close and in range of where I wanted. Moving my head down, reaching like never before, my teeth contacted the rope and latching on like a pitbull, I did my best to gnaw on it, hoping to weaken it.
“You really thought you could get away like that? Just go to sleep and not face the consequences? You’re not getting away with murder!”
Sticking the hatchet between my legs, my motion became still as untouched water as he held it there just to see how tense I’d get. Removing it, his sick, sadistic smile returned.
“So tense you are. Don’t worry, it’ll be all over soon, like that poor fucking disgrace of a deer. Blind to the light, blind to it’s death!”
Fighting for escape even quicker, I hid my doings as he really didn’t pay much attention to detail, just what was in front. He saw me tied to the tree. He didn’t see me with the rope, gnawing my teeth to weaken it’s grasp.
“Get ready Hopkins, your death will be blind to you too!”
FINALLY, the section of the rope tore as I could feel my hands gain some relief as to however this was tied up by Reaver. Improperly it was, I remained in position, not making too much movement to be noticed. Moving my arms as the tightness was no longer there, slowly I got one free out of wrap as the left one then slid free. As the rope dropped, there was nothing left. If only he was smart enough to go around my legs.
“Like that deer, you were caught on the wrong side of town.”
He then stepped closer and closer as his humming breathe contacted my eyes.
“Ready for supper?”
He asked as he leaned his head in and with that open opportunity, a headbutt came into play as he fell down. Like Django, I ran fast as Usain Bolt, not knowing where I was going except for in a downhill motion as from distance you can hear Reaver’s yell.
“HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH! I’M GONNA GET YOU HOPKINS!!!’
Running far in the dark, quite a ways now from the lit campfire. I ran like life depended on it.Where was I? I had no absolute fucking clue. Once I see a street light and some life, I’d find my way soon enough.
“Where you going?”
Out of nowhere. Quick, sudden, unexpected.
“AGGGHHHH!!!!”
.................
.................
.................
“Jair ... Wake up!”
“Jair ...”
“HOPKINS!”
A dump of mild-warm water splashing onto my face caused me to rise up in a fighting stance as it was Anthony and William looking with concern as William held the now empty bottle of Dasani water in his hands.
“Wake up, man! We’re here in Huntsville!”
“I hope you dreamt of TDB surrounded by some hot women or something. Calling your name all loud and not hearing, it had to be a good dream!”
I looked at William with a sly smirk.
“You wouldn’t want to know, I’ll just say that!”
“The more we exploit nature, The more our options are reduced, until we have only one: to fight for survival.”
- Morris K. Udall
- Morris K. Udall
Oh man, look at what Mother Nature blew into our sights...
Survive and Conquer, tag-team style. Over and over again, it always come to this question...
Why the hell do you call yourselves “The Dying Breed”? It makes no sense. It makes no fucking sense at all. No one follows, get rid of that bullshit.
Ugh.
Failure to read between the lines. Failure to acknowledge the meaning behind it. People always like to just read the cover and dish it to the side if it doesn't sound right. If it was “50 Shades Of Grey”, they’d be all up in that ass but with a title like “The Dying Breed”, no one wants to read past the cover.
Some may think of it as some zombie shit. Others may think of it as some world-wide apacolypse.
Ugh.
The Dying Breed doesn’t mean we’re dying you fools. It means we are the last of a genre. People tend to want the easy way to do things, take the easy way out, cheap shots, backstabbing. Myself, Anthony Bailey and William D. Williams, we aren’t molded like that. We earn shit our way, the way it supposed to be earned. No shortcuts involved. We like to grind our way to the gold.
I can understand as both Sang Real and The Unforgiven are new to the ‘Asylum’. You guys haven’t given much thought or worry on who the three of us are. As said, new to the show, new to this playground. You seem to be quick learners, I guess. So by the time we step in the ring, you’ll know just who we are and why we are called “The Dying Breed”. It’s not to sound fancy or cryptic. It’s not to be eerie to the audience or to hear an “Ahhh!” from them. It’s all about being who we are. We’re not like most. Sure we’re young in age but our mindset, our development, our skills, it’s old-school.
If it’s confusing for you two teams, don’t worry. It’s gonna’ be alright!
You are challenging the tag team champions. Nothing is alright. You jumped from being in development to stepping right into the hot Sun here on Asylum. Very first match on Asylum is a tag match. If lucky, it will be the night to truly remember for one of you teams. A loss, well, at least you learned some pointers of what to do and what NOT to do next time.
Me and Anthony understand the logic to the match. It doesn’t need to be further explained to us. We can lose by being pinned or letting another one be pinned, whether it’s Unforgiven or Sangria..I mean Sang Real.
You’re born to be champions. That’s good. I was born to survive. So far, so good. Sang Real, you two were probably born with silver spoons in your mouth with all of this “born to be champions” talk. What ya’ll eat for breakfast, Wheaties? Gotta’ love them Wheaties! I respect your hustle and dedication. Growing up under those names, the tutelage and the knowledge. It has responded well to your game thus far. You were told to never fail. Never give up. Never let them see you sweat.
The Unforgiven, Zacharia Blood and The Sentinel. I’d like to first say Clint Eastwood despise of you two for that name. Haha. While I understand this is not the time for bullshit and games, you have to smile sometime in your life. You two have built up some rep to just be placed in this contest against The Dying Breed. The Unforgiven are on a mission to fulfill their destiny. They want to feel gold, they want to surround themselves around it. They want to be seen as “the team to defeat”. Well Unforgiven, it’s going to be one long, tough road for you two. I’m not looking to get you all riled up and upset but these APW World Tag Titles ... They aren’t going anywhere fast.
You can pick on our names, determine the meaning of it, determine if it’s racist or not. Determine whatever the hell you want to consider it as. The two men who stands in front of you with these title. That’s where your focus should be. Not on the name choice. Your dreams of not pinning us to take the title is much easier to say than it is to do. Again, “shortcutting” your way out. You want to be the man, the champion. You need to beat the champion.
Royal blood, huh. Get ready to share some of that blood with the canvas. Afterall you are debuting in the “Asylum Madhouse”.
You guys may be winners but TDB ... We’re all about survival.
In this territory, survivors are heavily favorited. We’ve gone through damn near all the tests. Ask Aubrey and Logan. Ask the others who have said they will be victorious at the end of the night only to realize that it was all just a dream.
I’m just preparing you guys for what is going to go down. On Meltdown you all ruled your side of town. There is no longer anymore Meltdown after the finale. You and everyone else are either on Asylum or Overdrive. The feeling of getting drafted earlier than expected and thrown right to the wolves.
Not the celebration you had in mind.
Throw a title opportunity in it and feel better. That’s what they did and now look. Cocky as ever, ignorant as you were. Failure is coming in big, bubble-shaped letters. Time to hit the damn drawing board.
Ignorance and arrogance will cost you. It might not be today or the day we meet but one day, you two are going to find out just how far ignorance and arrogance will take you before it dries and dies leaving you stranded with an identity crisis.
Holding these titles for as long as we have. It’s not by slipping by or cheating. No, we fought, grinded our ass to depths unseen, all for a strap with a some gold on it. All for a strap that has “APW World Tag Titles” on it. We’re like a band of brothers. We’ve dealt with the many wars that come as being champions. You two are no different. Different look, different swagger with each of you, that’s about all. Once a few minutes past in that ring, all that ‘game film’ on you guys will be much help.
I’m guessing you have watched film too and probably the words “not impressed” would be what comes out of your mouth. It’s been said before. It’s not easy being colored in gold. Always running with a target on your head or chest. Fatigue sets in, that is a total bitch. It’s alot and for you guys to just come in and get this shot. I hate to say it, I really do but ...
I don’t think you’re ready for this level of heat.
The tension is here. We don’t even know each other and the tension is thick. That’s “championship” atmosphere. Who’s going to remain champion or who’s going to be crowned. Will TDB be able to hold off this go-round or will misguided, miscommunication in the end be their downfall? Will they survive or will they finally die off?
No one knows until that second ringing of the bell.
Rolltide.
