Post by Nick Watson on Mar 24, 2011 23:11:37 GMT -4
*Present Day, Berkley California*
I don't pretend to be a man who gives a shit about dangertainment or their fucking way of life. Their oath, their creed, their fucking banner that sways in the winds of change or whatever the fuck that means, because none of them are important. None of them have a place in my world, none of them have a place in fighting for IWC because they hold no loyalties unless if it is to themselves. I know the game, I've seen it before, and it will no doubt pop up again. I will get these people, these fucking morons, that don't know their assholes from a hole in the ground that will continue to doubt me without a question or a doubt. Doesn't surprise me and once again doesn't bother me. I walk through the warm sun, enjoying myself, cherishing every moment before I go through hell in a match that is going to headline the media for years to come. I treat this like a battle, a normal mission from back in the day, the only difference is I know what the enemy is bringing, and I know exactly what I need to do to achieve my objective. The fatal flaw of any important mission is underestimating your foe and it seems that I have done the opposite. I have over-valued my foes competence and their drive to succeed because no man in his right man would challenge me. I look over to Madok as he grins at me and points to the arena in the distance.
"We both are going to kick some ass this Sunday!"
He is right, we are, and there is not a damn thing that team IWC can do about it. I sit down on a bench and watch as the cars drive by and the people walk around on the sidewalks. A few fans of the show walk by and stop, they give me a wave, and a grin before walking off on their way and I return the favor.
"That goes without question. The fact of the matter I've been bottling up everything that I have wanted to say to team IWC for a long time."
"Be gentle, okay? After all, I'm the next Insane Champion and I can't have anyone pissing on IWC."
"I can't make any promises...well...I can make one. I can make the promise that after Sunday, Dangertainment will think twice about letting their "leader" who is more like an atomictron robot speak about me ever again."
"Did he touch a nerve?"
I glare at him, my eyes are lifeless, and cold. These are the eyes of a killer, the eyes that scared marks, that scared colleagues, and the eyes that will soon be glaring at team IWC in the darkest corners of their nightmares.
"He challenged me...he questions my mental state based on what occured several years ago."
"What exactly did happen? I've watched the promotion and I just don't understand."
I look down at the floor as the scenes come flooding into my head. As I'm deep in thought, Madok continues to look at me. He tilts his head to one side and then pokes me.
"Pence?"
I look up from the floor and take a deep breath to see that Madok is hailing a cab.
"Come on, man. Get your head in the game, you have a meeting with the team, and I have a meeting with a few potential clients."
I nod my head as a cab pulls up and Madok opens the door for me, I get up from the bench, and get inside the cab. Madok closes the door and beats on the trunk of the cab to tell the driver to go, he begins to drive, and asks me where I'm going. I look at him and reply.
"The Memorial Stadium."
He nods and commences to drive toward the stadium which is about ten or so minutes away. I reach for my cell and dial Jeff, I have to let him know that I'm on my way for the last meeting, and that I have the documents that he wanted me to bring. As the phone rings, I look over at the documents in their manilla folder. Inside are notes, data, statistics, and common tendencies that every member of team IWC does in matches. I have referrals, links to videos written down, and a few dvds placed inside, a single one for each opponent. My job as captain is to lead by example and by practice. By doing this, I show my team that I will do whatever I have to do to win, and that I am willing to help them get better before the big match. That is what a captain does of course, a real captain, not some made up position that dangertainment came up with, but a real captain of a real team with a real purpose. We don't pretend to be pertinent, there is no need for that. We are APW and we are hosting Rasslemania not the flea infested mongrels of dangertainment or the lap dogs that J.D. Pierce and James Chambers truly are.
Jeff answers the phone and begins to speak.
"Hey, Pence...where are you at?"
"I'm about six minutes away, I got the stuff, and I will be there soon. Just hold on okay?"
"Alright, I will try to keep these guys in order for a bit longer."
I hang up and look out the window of the cab. We are nearing our destination and I am more than ready to give them what I've got so far.
"You finally showed up!"
"Sorry, I'm late. Do you mind handing these out while I give my speech to the men?"
Jeff looks at me with a confused glance, but doesn't hesitate to follow orders. I respect that and hope that he will respect my orders when the time comes in the War Games match. I look out across the table, I see the faces of Clapton and Knoxville both looking at me. I know they don't like me too much, but they know I'm the leader and I hope I can channel their hatred for me into a form of aggression toward our enemies.
"I know you don't like me...I know you don't care for the way I do things, but I'm asking you to respect me enough to get through this ordeal and win this match for our show."
I pause and look around at them before continuing.
"We need to work as a fine oiled machine, we need to be precise and strong the whole night through because lets face it, things are going to get dirty, and they are going not going to let up at any moment for us to take a breather. This may be our grandest stage this Sunday boys, but these...misfits, these filthy fucking monsters...are trying to upstage us. Trying to force feed us a doctrine that has been spilled from the lips of their retarded general manager who has little to no business sense what so ever."
Another pause as I wait for Jeff to put out all of the paperwork and take his seat as well.
"In front of you is the research I have gathered. Everything that you need to know about your opponents is in those files and on those DVD's is some tape of a few fights that I found interesting to our cause. Gentlemen...we are about to embark on something bigger than all of us...bigger than either side...this is about honor. This is about honoring our show and giving the fans a good time above anything else. I know some of you have unfinished business...I know some of you want to make a name for yourself...and others want to prove that they still have what it takes, but that all takes a back burner to winning it for APW. This is important to me...more important than Main Eventing, more important than winning a title...this is for the honor of our show and the respect of the fans that watch it. We owe them...we owe them for paying our checks and indulging us as they listen to use talk. We owe them, gentlemen...and I for one am going to pay them back in full by winning this match and I hope to God you are with me.
That is all...take your notes and go back to your hotel rooms...call me if you need anything at all."
Everyone disperses leaving me alone in the meeting room. I take a seat and close my eyes. I begin to doze off as more thoughts fill my head of that night. The night that the kid died.
I woke up and leaned forward in my chair. I wiped the sweat from my brow. The day that kid died...it was my fault. I tripped the wire and I had forever since cursed myself for my stupidity, but all I could do now was look to the future and hope to change it. Every man I had killed lived in my nightmares and I could take that, but the nightmare of when the kid died...it would never go away and always shook me. I began to speak to the camera.
"I don't pretend to understand your reasons for despising APW. I don't try either because quite honestly this hate for the show that is quite honestly paying for your show is rather childish and ridiculous. For instance, lets take a look at Dangertainment shall we? I mean this is a group of people who have little to no respect for anyone, but themselves. They think they are God's gift to wrestling, which is amusing because I'm pretty sure neither of them are that good. Nathan Bishop has done nothing, but lose and narrate his life as of late, but yet here he is after getting a lucky break finally, and already he is pissing it away. Honestly, dude...how the fuck do you ruin a good thing by pissing off the biggest and baddest mother fucking men in IWC AND APW...I don't see how someone can be that dumb, but then again you are from an inferior show where a child with a crayon can be considered a championship contender. First of all...I don't care what you think about me and I don't care if you think being tactical and intelligent is underhanded and weak because it gets the job done. Also, I have leadership experience...and have taken quite a few bullets for my allies and this match is no different, I would take a bullet for any of them. To win matches you have to sacrafice and I am willing to sacrafice everything if at the end of the night APW walks out with a win...that is what makes me a true captain and you just a fantasy captain. If it were as easy as saying...I'm leading this team then the job would be yours, but quite honestly you don't have the talent to lead and from the look of your most recent promotion you also don't have the intelligence level to lead either. You are more prone to leading your group off a cliff like a group of lemmings than leading your team to victory.
I mean, I may have issues, but compared to you...well to put it kindly...there really is no comparison. I am better than you Nathan...regardless of if I have choked as of late, that is behind me. As you said, the past can not be changed, but let me tell you something...the future is ever changing and I intend to change it for the better and this future...mark my words...is a future without the likes of you or you dangertainment faggots. Oh speaking of your faggot friends, lets discuss Jason Kash for a second."
I pause as I stroke my beard.
"To be honest, Jason...I could care less about your opinion of me. Much like your lover, Nathan, you are of the variety of individuals who has their head crammed so far up their own ass that they can give themselves their very own enema. And much like shit, you stink. See what I did there? That's wit, something us intelligent people use to make points about how ridiculously stupid our opponents are. I use it here because I want to make a point...and that point is you are a fucking failure! No surprise there, I mean you are part of a failed invasion that lasted for such a short amount of time that it was almost forgotten until I brought it up right now. You also happen to be an inferior product. I remember back in the day...oh sorry, Quantum Leap...no one cares right? What am I saying? For a guy who is pretty much digging up ancient history that doesn't fucking matter you sure get riled up when any one else does. Well in the past there was a pot smoker, just like you, but he had wit and he was funny. Quite honestly if that man was still here today, you would pretty much get your ass kicked so far back to wherever the fuck you came from that you wouldn't know what to do with yourself. This guy had class and you don't and I respected that, he also was a boxer, like me. Which by the way, just because this isn't a boxing ring doesn't mean I can't use the punching skills I pick up from boxing, dip shit. You are quite honestly the worse piece of shit I have ever seen broadcast over any airwaves...ever...your dangertainment movement has failed and just like that movement you are destined to as well."
I pause for a second.
" As for James Chambers, the captain of team IWC, we all know what you are capable of, and we also all know that you are the only threat on your team. I mean, I have watched every match and analyzed every bit of data that I can and in the end...the conclusion is I have to simply neutralize you for the team to win and to be honest to everyone and everything that is possible for me. I can do it and I know you want to fight me, hell you are probably gunning for me as is because you know better than to let any of these other ass clowns get their opportunity at me when you know I could just as easily rip their God damn throats from their necks and watch them bleed out. But please, do me a favor...try to make things original. After watching your promotions it seems to be the same routine over and over again...Biff does something stupid, you hurt or berate him, he cries, and then you try to make him happy. Try something different please because I don't want to take a nap in the middle of your promotion and miss the good parts. I'm sorry, but it is predictable, just as predictable as the sun rising in the morning or Gladiator not changing his underwear...that is how predictable it is, James. It has gotten to Gladiator's underwear level.
I could go on dissing you guys, but what would be the point? I mean the last guy is J.D. Pierce and I tried to find this guy's file. Honestly, I did, and I got some stats, but no history! I have nothing to run on with him, he is a new guy who came to IWC, and I have not a damn thing to run on. So to be honest...sorry, but I'm cutting you because you don't seem important enough. I remember watching a promotion of yours and it had something to do with a priest and gothic chick...I have no clue what the fuck was even going on, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to know. All I know is J.D., for the love of God stop talking about faith. I really don't care about much else, but you are too good to be good...do you know what I mean? I mean if you are going to be a pure man of God which it seems like you are trying to be then you can't fight anyway. You have to turn the other cheek and so far, I don't see much turning to be honest. I mean you fought against Jason Royce and got here...I'm sorry, but you honestly are not a threat at all...I take it back Kash, you are not the weakest link on your team...wait I never said that, but I thought it...anyway you are replaced Kash...Pierce is taking your place. Faith has its' place, sure...everyone needs it, but honeslty...promos with priests and talking about faith and decisions based on faith and then you pretty much getting a by into this important match...sorry to say it, but your role on this team is pretty much filed under meat shield. You will be used to block my punches though, which means you might actually be worth something in the end when you crawl out of the ring a mass of broken bones and dreams."
I smile and then continue.
"At least you get a free Team IWC T-Shirt, right?"
I chuckle as I continue.
" I want to wish you guys good luck because no matter how much I hate you guys for being dicks...I want you guys to put on a good show because God only knows the Main Event is going to suck. Anyway, for now this is Mr. Main Event, signing off, and I hope to see everyone at Rasslemania VII!"
*Scene Bursts to Static*
I don't pretend to be a man who gives a shit about dangertainment or their fucking way of life. Their oath, their creed, their fucking banner that sways in the winds of change or whatever the fuck that means, because none of them are important. None of them have a place in my world, none of them have a place in fighting for IWC because they hold no loyalties unless if it is to themselves. I know the game, I've seen it before, and it will no doubt pop up again. I will get these people, these fucking morons, that don't know their assholes from a hole in the ground that will continue to doubt me without a question or a doubt. Doesn't surprise me and once again doesn't bother me. I walk through the warm sun, enjoying myself, cherishing every moment before I go through hell in a match that is going to headline the media for years to come. I treat this like a battle, a normal mission from back in the day, the only difference is I know what the enemy is bringing, and I know exactly what I need to do to achieve my objective. The fatal flaw of any important mission is underestimating your foe and it seems that I have done the opposite. I have over-valued my foes competence and their drive to succeed because no man in his right man would challenge me. I look over to Madok as he grins at me and points to the arena in the distance.
"We both are going to kick some ass this Sunday!"
He is right, we are, and there is not a damn thing that team IWC can do about it. I sit down on a bench and watch as the cars drive by and the people walk around on the sidewalks. A few fans of the show walk by and stop, they give me a wave, and a grin before walking off on their way and I return the favor.
"That goes without question. The fact of the matter I've been bottling up everything that I have wanted to say to team IWC for a long time."
"Be gentle, okay? After all, I'm the next Insane Champion and I can't have anyone pissing on IWC."
"I can't make any promises...well...I can make one. I can make the promise that after Sunday, Dangertainment will think twice about letting their "leader" who is more like an atomictron robot speak about me ever again."
"Did he touch a nerve?"
I glare at him, my eyes are lifeless, and cold. These are the eyes of a killer, the eyes that scared marks, that scared colleagues, and the eyes that will soon be glaring at team IWC in the darkest corners of their nightmares.
"He challenged me...he questions my mental state based on what occured several years ago."
"What exactly did happen? I've watched the promotion and I just don't understand."
I look down at the floor as the scenes come flooding into my head. As I'm deep in thought, Madok continues to look at me. He tilts his head to one side and then pokes me.
"Pence?"
I look up from the floor and take a deep breath to see that Madok is hailing a cab.
"Come on, man. Get your head in the game, you have a meeting with the team, and I have a meeting with a few potential clients."
I nod my head as a cab pulls up and Madok opens the door for me, I get up from the bench, and get inside the cab. Madok closes the door and beats on the trunk of the cab to tell the driver to go, he begins to drive, and asks me where I'm going. I look at him and reply.
"The Memorial Stadium."
He nods and commences to drive toward the stadium which is about ten or so minutes away. I reach for my cell and dial Jeff, I have to let him know that I'm on my way for the last meeting, and that I have the documents that he wanted me to bring. As the phone rings, I look over at the documents in their manilla folder. Inside are notes, data, statistics, and common tendencies that every member of team IWC does in matches. I have referrals, links to videos written down, and a few dvds placed inside, a single one for each opponent. My job as captain is to lead by example and by practice. By doing this, I show my team that I will do whatever I have to do to win, and that I am willing to help them get better before the big match. That is what a captain does of course, a real captain, not some made up position that dangertainment came up with, but a real captain of a real team with a real purpose. We don't pretend to be pertinent, there is no need for that. We are APW and we are hosting Rasslemania not the flea infested mongrels of dangertainment or the lap dogs that J.D. Pierce and James Chambers truly are.
Jeff answers the phone and begins to speak.
"Hey, Pence...where are you at?"
"I'm about six minutes away, I got the stuff, and I will be there soon. Just hold on okay?"
"Alright, I will try to keep these guys in order for a bit longer."
I hang up and look out the window of the cab. We are nearing our destination and I am more than ready to give them what I've got so far.
=====================================================
"You finally showed up!"
"Sorry, I'm late. Do you mind handing these out while I give my speech to the men?"
Jeff looks at me with a confused glance, but doesn't hesitate to follow orders. I respect that and hope that he will respect my orders when the time comes in the War Games match. I look out across the table, I see the faces of Clapton and Knoxville both looking at me. I know they don't like me too much, but they know I'm the leader and I hope I can channel their hatred for me into a form of aggression toward our enemies.
"I know you don't like me...I know you don't care for the way I do things, but I'm asking you to respect me enough to get through this ordeal and win this match for our show."
I pause and look around at them before continuing.
"We need to work as a fine oiled machine, we need to be precise and strong the whole night through because lets face it, things are going to get dirty, and they are going not going to let up at any moment for us to take a breather. This may be our grandest stage this Sunday boys, but these...misfits, these filthy fucking monsters...are trying to upstage us. Trying to force feed us a doctrine that has been spilled from the lips of their retarded general manager who has little to no business sense what so ever."
Another pause as I wait for Jeff to put out all of the paperwork and take his seat as well.
"In front of you is the research I have gathered. Everything that you need to know about your opponents is in those files and on those DVD's is some tape of a few fights that I found interesting to our cause. Gentlemen...we are about to embark on something bigger than all of us...bigger than either side...this is about honor. This is about honoring our show and giving the fans a good time above anything else. I know some of you have unfinished business...I know some of you want to make a name for yourself...and others want to prove that they still have what it takes, but that all takes a back burner to winning it for APW. This is important to me...more important than Main Eventing, more important than winning a title...this is for the honor of our show and the respect of the fans that watch it. We owe them...we owe them for paying our checks and indulging us as they listen to use talk. We owe them, gentlemen...and I for one am going to pay them back in full by winning this match and I hope to God you are with me.
That is all...take your notes and go back to your hotel rooms...call me if you need anything at all."
Everyone disperses leaving me alone in the meeting room. I take a seat and close my eyes. I begin to doze off as more thoughts fill my head of that night. The night that the kid died.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I woke up and leaned forward in my chair. I wiped the sweat from my brow. The day that kid died...it was my fault. I tripped the wire and I had forever since cursed myself for my stupidity, but all I could do now was look to the future and hope to change it. Every man I had killed lived in my nightmares and I could take that, but the nightmare of when the kid died...it would never go away and always shook me. I began to speak to the camera.
"I don't pretend to understand your reasons for despising APW. I don't try either because quite honestly this hate for the show that is quite honestly paying for your show is rather childish and ridiculous. For instance, lets take a look at Dangertainment shall we? I mean this is a group of people who have little to no respect for anyone, but themselves. They think they are God's gift to wrestling, which is amusing because I'm pretty sure neither of them are that good. Nathan Bishop has done nothing, but lose and narrate his life as of late, but yet here he is after getting a lucky break finally, and already he is pissing it away. Honestly, dude...how the fuck do you ruin a good thing by pissing off the biggest and baddest mother fucking men in IWC AND APW...I don't see how someone can be that dumb, but then again you are from an inferior show where a child with a crayon can be considered a championship contender. First of all...I don't care what you think about me and I don't care if you think being tactical and intelligent is underhanded and weak because it gets the job done. Also, I have leadership experience...and have taken quite a few bullets for my allies and this match is no different, I would take a bullet for any of them. To win matches you have to sacrafice and I am willing to sacrafice everything if at the end of the night APW walks out with a win...that is what makes me a true captain and you just a fantasy captain. If it were as easy as saying...I'm leading this team then the job would be yours, but quite honestly you don't have the talent to lead and from the look of your most recent promotion you also don't have the intelligence level to lead either. You are more prone to leading your group off a cliff like a group of lemmings than leading your team to victory.
I mean, I may have issues, but compared to you...well to put it kindly...there really is no comparison. I am better than you Nathan...regardless of if I have choked as of late, that is behind me. As you said, the past can not be changed, but let me tell you something...the future is ever changing and I intend to change it for the better and this future...mark my words...is a future without the likes of you or you dangertainment faggots. Oh speaking of your faggot friends, lets discuss Jason Kash for a second."
I pause as I stroke my beard.
"To be honest, Jason...I could care less about your opinion of me. Much like your lover, Nathan, you are of the variety of individuals who has their head crammed so far up their own ass that they can give themselves their very own enema. And much like shit, you stink. See what I did there? That's wit, something us intelligent people use to make points about how ridiculously stupid our opponents are. I use it here because I want to make a point...and that point is you are a fucking failure! No surprise there, I mean you are part of a failed invasion that lasted for such a short amount of time that it was almost forgotten until I brought it up right now. You also happen to be an inferior product. I remember back in the day...oh sorry, Quantum Leap...no one cares right? What am I saying? For a guy who is pretty much digging up ancient history that doesn't fucking matter you sure get riled up when any one else does. Well in the past there was a pot smoker, just like you, but he had wit and he was funny. Quite honestly if that man was still here today, you would pretty much get your ass kicked so far back to wherever the fuck you came from that you wouldn't know what to do with yourself. This guy had class and you don't and I respected that, he also was a boxer, like me. Which by the way, just because this isn't a boxing ring doesn't mean I can't use the punching skills I pick up from boxing, dip shit. You are quite honestly the worse piece of shit I have ever seen broadcast over any airwaves...ever...your dangertainment movement has failed and just like that movement you are destined to as well."
I pause for a second.
" As for James Chambers, the captain of team IWC, we all know what you are capable of, and we also all know that you are the only threat on your team. I mean, I have watched every match and analyzed every bit of data that I can and in the end...the conclusion is I have to simply neutralize you for the team to win and to be honest to everyone and everything that is possible for me. I can do it and I know you want to fight me, hell you are probably gunning for me as is because you know better than to let any of these other ass clowns get their opportunity at me when you know I could just as easily rip their God damn throats from their necks and watch them bleed out. But please, do me a favor...try to make things original. After watching your promotions it seems to be the same routine over and over again...Biff does something stupid, you hurt or berate him, he cries, and then you try to make him happy. Try something different please because I don't want to take a nap in the middle of your promotion and miss the good parts. I'm sorry, but it is predictable, just as predictable as the sun rising in the morning or Gladiator not changing his underwear...that is how predictable it is, James. It has gotten to Gladiator's underwear level.
I could go on dissing you guys, but what would be the point? I mean the last guy is J.D. Pierce and I tried to find this guy's file. Honestly, I did, and I got some stats, but no history! I have nothing to run on with him, he is a new guy who came to IWC, and I have not a damn thing to run on. So to be honest...sorry, but I'm cutting you because you don't seem important enough. I remember watching a promotion of yours and it had something to do with a priest and gothic chick...I have no clue what the fuck was even going on, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to know. All I know is J.D., for the love of God stop talking about faith. I really don't care about much else, but you are too good to be good...do you know what I mean? I mean if you are going to be a pure man of God which it seems like you are trying to be then you can't fight anyway. You have to turn the other cheek and so far, I don't see much turning to be honest. I mean you fought against Jason Royce and got here...I'm sorry, but you honestly are not a threat at all...I take it back Kash, you are not the weakest link on your team...wait I never said that, but I thought it...anyway you are replaced Kash...Pierce is taking your place. Faith has its' place, sure...everyone needs it, but honeslty...promos with priests and talking about faith and decisions based on faith and then you pretty much getting a by into this important match...sorry to say it, but your role on this team is pretty much filed under meat shield. You will be used to block my punches though, which means you might actually be worth something in the end when you crawl out of the ring a mass of broken bones and dreams."
I smile and then continue.
"At least you get a free Team IWC T-Shirt, right?"
I chuckle as I continue.
" I want to wish you guys good luck because no matter how much I hate you guys for being dicks...I want you guys to put on a good show because God only knows the Main Event is going to suck. Anyway, for now this is Mr. Main Event, signing off, and I hope to see everyone at Rasslemania VII!"
*Scene Bursts to Static*
