Post by america on Jun 14, 2020 22:18:13 GMT -5
America missed it.
The rush of adrenaline. The feeling as he cleared the sweat from his eyes with one hand while the ref raised the other one. The sound of his name yelled loud for all to hear. The face of an opponent staring up at the sky with a look of understanding; a pure and bitter taste of defeat starting on their lips and pushing downward until the despair is a full body experience. He had thought after college he was fine never tasting it again. He thought after the knockout that maybe he’d never hear it again. But here he was. The winner.
America hadn’t realized how badly he missed it.
Winning with Zaigon was one thing. They were the Storm and fighting with someone he respected by his side was a hell of an experience. But he was still getting used to sharing the glory. His victory over Cray Mitchell was all his. A win for himself and everyone who’d put their faith in him.
He wanted more.
Hello.
For those who don’t know me, my name is Riley Denton.
I’ve told a lot of truths in my time.
Today I’m here to tell you the truth of America Jackson and Zaigon Carter, collectively known as the Storm.
We should start by considering how we got here.
Zaigon Carter, industrialist and professional wrestler extraordinaire, saw a gap needing to be filled in the world of professional wrestling. Having been previously exorcised from a company by a woman of…questionable morality, he saw how the great American sport declined in his absence. The progression of the decay reaching to the heart of the business with more and more undesirables finding their way into a ring. Well, as a true patriot of this country it damn near broke his heart.
He scouted All American wrestling champion and former mixed martial artist America Jackson, a man who bleeds so red that his name tells you exactly what he represents. They came here to Alpha Pro Wrestling and they have taken the company by their very namesake…the Storm.
The Very Big Supervillains came first. Veritable titans of this business. Lesser men would have recoiled in fear at the monsters they faced. But the Storm wouldn’t be intimidated. Even away from their home soil, they pressed onward to conquer the giants and show the world that they were a team to be reckoned with. Then last week, their singles debuts. Jaice Wilds and Cray Mitchell thought that they were facing men who could only stand together, and yet apart they did not merely win. They dominated their opponents, earning decisive victories and showing that they truly are exceptional men whether standing alone or as a team.
Then they set out a challenge.
A challenge to the whole damned locker room.
A challenge that nobody but two proper Americans could make.
They will hold the World, North American, and Tag Team titles.
Not over the course of their career.
Not in some unseen future.
They will hold them concurrently.
Now, certainly there are factors that can’t be controlled. It isn’t without precedent that management would balk at such a demand. They remain relatively new talents within this company; Zaigon having a hiatus from the business exceeding five years and America being new to this specific sport despite a proven record elsewhere. Many may dismiss this proclamation as hubris. Certainly, they can’t expect to be booked in title matches across the board.
But my friends…this is America.
The land of opportunity.
The place where you can earn anything as long as you’re willing to put the work into it.
The Storm made a promise.
They made it with confidence.
They made it with conviction.
They made it understanding their value, even if you haven’t figured it out yet.
Because somewhere in APW headquarters, there’s someone shaking their head right now. They think that they’ll never book the matches. That these men can win singles gold or tag gold and be satisfied with whichever they end up with. That they can wait for their time in the opposite field, a time when they are focused on one division and one division only. A time when they can be the best within limits. A time when their greatness can be contained.
I’m sure it’s worked on some.
I’m sure there are many who would accept lesser greatness.
But the Storm cannot be bought. They cannot be placated with less when they know that they deserve more. They will not bow, will not crumble before your attempts to control them. They are AMERICANS dammit! They will not compromise even in the face of a country that continues to sell them out, whoring their values to anyone who can swim over drenched in muck and waste! I am here to tell you that no matter how many compromises have been made beforehand, THESE MEN WILL NOT COMPROMISE!
So you can stack the deck against them.
You can give every advantage to others because you have quotas to fill on your weekly show.
Greatness?
TRUE greatness?
It won’t compromise.
It won’t STOP.
The Storm is coming.
They’re coming to take what’s rightfully theirs.
They’re coming…to make APW great.
I gotta be real with you folks, I’m a little disappointed.
We called out the big champs of this company and what do we get?
A non-title deal with the champions holding titles I can’t get and that I don’t want.
Now I don’t want you two to take that as an insult. I’ve wrestled in a weight class and it ain’t no less impressive to be able to keep a man down just cause he’s in the same range as you. Or woman, though I must admit that’ll be a first for me here. I’m sure you’re gonna expect me to underestimate you cause I’m a man and you’re a woman but I gotta be honest miss, I seen the way women would hit the mat while I was in school. I saw more blood and concussions on those mats than any other. I respect you as a competitor which is why I’ll suck it up and explain to my momma later why she saw me on TV slapping the absolute shit outta you.
I’m impressed by you two. Really, I am. Any other time and I’d be thrilled at the fight of it. You both got skills that I don’t. Breezy, you move light and fast and you can get up on top of that buckle which I gotta be real I am still figuring out. You’re a thinker and man alive I am a doer. And Verez, I been in some bar brawls but you can get nasty. I know in my heart that I’m a better wrestler than you, but if this were a fight? I’d be miles less confident.
You both got a lot to offer and that’s why it’s such a damn shame I’m lookin’ right past you.
I’m looking past to the two gold belts I want around my shoulders.
I’m looking and I’m thinkin’ bout how if it takes mauling the two pet champs to get at the four real ones…well hell if that ain’t just what I’ll do.
It’s not an insult. You two are plenty good in this ring.
But Zaigon and me…we’re better.
I know you’re hearing this and getting’ fired up. Thinkin’ that I may have the power and the background, but you got grit, right? You’re tough. You been grinding that Junior Heavyweight Title on the weekly Breezy and Verez had to go tooth and claw for the Hardcore strap.
That’s the whole problem though.
You think that doing the work makes you tough.
We got one of you, a bona fide alien walkin’ into my country and thinkin’ you can find a way to break all the rules to come out on top. We got someone from California, practically a traitor, thinking that an honest day’s work makes you somethin’ special. I’ll tell you this for free, I been grinding since I was a kid. I worked my ass off and it didn’t make me special. That gold on your shoulders, that don’t make you special either. Sure, you’re the best among Light Heavyweights and Hardcore wrestlers, but so the hell what?
That was it for you.
That was the limit of your ambition.
You saw that you had gold on your shoulders, and you got full.
But me and Zaigon?
WE’RE ALWAYS HUNGRY BABY!
You took the coward’s way out. Declared yourselves the best and put a little asterisk on it and gave up on ever being a top three champ. You let your wins beat you. For all your hype, you just let yourself be content lordin’ over a shallow pool of competition because you took a glimpse into the ocean and just ‘bout shit your pants seein’ what’s out there.
And that?
That’s why you’re gonna lose.
Not because you ain’t great.
You saw the biggest challenge and you crumbled.
But the Storm?
Hell.
We roared.
The rush of adrenaline. The feeling as he cleared the sweat from his eyes with one hand while the ref raised the other one. The sound of his name yelled loud for all to hear. The face of an opponent staring up at the sky with a look of understanding; a pure and bitter taste of defeat starting on their lips and pushing downward until the despair is a full body experience. He had thought after college he was fine never tasting it again. He thought after the knockout that maybe he’d never hear it again. But here he was. The winner.
America hadn’t realized how badly he missed it.
Winning with Zaigon was one thing. They were the Storm and fighting with someone he respected by his side was a hell of an experience. But he was still getting used to sharing the glory. His victory over Cray Mitchell was all his. A win for himself and everyone who’d put their faith in him.
He wanted more.
Hello.
For those who don’t know me, my name is Riley Denton.
I’ve told a lot of truths in my time.
Today I’m here to tell you the truth of America Jackson and Zaigon Carter, collectively known as the Storm.
We should start by considering how we got here.
Zaigon Carter, industrialist and professional wrestler extraordinaire, saw a gap needing to be filled in the world of professional wrestling. Having been previously exorcised from a company by a woman of…questionable morality, he saw how the great American sport declined in his absence. The progression of the decay reaching to the heart of the business with more and more undesirables finding their way into a ring. Well, as a true patriot of this country it damn near broke his heart.
He scouted All American wrestling champion and former mixed martial artist America Jackson, a man who bleeds so red that his name tells you exactly what he represents. They came here to Alpha Pro Wrestling and they have taken the company by their very namesake…the Storm.
The Very Big Supervillains came first. Veritable titans of this business. Lesser men would have recoiled in fear at the monsters they faced. But the Storm wouldn’t be intimidated. Even away from their home soil, they pressed onward to conquer the giants and show the world that they were a team to be reckoned with. Then last week, their singles debuts. Jaice Wilds and Cray Mitchell thought that they were facing men who could only stand together, and yet apart they did not merely win. They dominated their opponents, earning decisive victories and showing that they truly are exceptional men whether standing alone or as a team.
Then they set out a challenge.
A challenge to the whole damned locker room.
A challenge that nobody but two proper Americans could make.
They will hold the World, North American, and Tag Team titles.
Not over the course of their career.
Not in some unseen future.
They will hold them concurrently.
Now, certainly there are factors that can’t be controlled. It isn’t without precedent that management would balk at such a demand. They remain relatively new talents within this company; Zaigon having a hiatus from the business exceeding five years and America being new to this specific sport despite a proven record elsewhere. Many may dismiss this proclamation as hubris. Certainly, they can’t expect to be booked in title matches across the board.
But my friends…this is America.
The land of opportunity.
The place where you can earn anything as long as you’re willing to put the work into it.
The Storm made a promise.
They made it with confidence.
They made it with conviction.
They made it understanding their value, even if you haven’t figured it out yet.
Because somewhere in APW headquarters, there’s someone shaking their head right now. They think that they’ll never book the matches. That these men can win singles gold or tag gold and be satisfied with whichever they end up with. That they can wait for their time in the opposite field, a time when they are focused on one division and one division only. A time when they can be the best within limits. A time when their greatness can be contained.
I’m sure it’s worked on some.
I’m sure there are many who would accept lesser greatness.
But the Storm cannot be bought. They cannot be placated with less when they know that they deserve more. They will not bow, will not crumble before your attempts to control them. They are AMERICANS dammit! They will not compromise even in the face of a country that continues to sell them out, whoring their values to anyone who can swim over drenched in muck and waste! I am here to tell you that no matter how many compromises have been made beforehand, THESE MEN WILL NOT COMPROMISE!
So you can stack the deck against them.
You can give every advantage to others because you have quotas to fill on your weekly show.
Greatness?
TRUE greatness?
It won’t compromise.
It won’t STOP.
The Storm is coming.
They’re coming to take what’s rightfully theirs.
They’re coming…to make APW great.
I gotta be real with you folks, I’m a little disappointed.
We called out the big champs of this company and what do we get?
A non-title deal with the champions holding titles I can’t get and that I don’t want.
Now I don’t want you two to take that as an insult. I’ve wrestled in a weight class and it ain’t no less impressive to be able to keep a man down just cause he’s in the same range as you. Or woman, though I must admit that’ll be a first for me here. I’m sure you’re gonna expect me to underestimate you cause I’m a man and you’re a woman but I gotta be honest miss, I seen the way women would hit the mat while I was in school. I saw more blood and concussions on those mats than any other. I respect you as a competitor which is why I’ll suck it up and explain to my momma later why she saw me on TV slapping the absolute shit outta you.
I’m impressed by you two. Really, I am. Any other time and I’d be thrilled at the fight of it. You both got skills that I don’t. Breezy, you move light and fast and you can get up on top of that buckle which I gotta be real I am still figuring out. You’re a thinker and man alive I am a doer. And Verez, I been in some bar brawls but you can get nasty. I know in my heart that I’m a better wrestler than you, but if this were a fight? I’d be miles less confident.
You both got a lot to offer and that’s why it’s such a damn shame I’m lookin’ right past you.
I’m looking past to the two gold belts I want around my shoulders.
I’m looking and I’m thinkin’ bout how if it takes mauling the two pet champs to get at the four real ones…well hell if that ain’t just what I’ll do.
It’s not an insult. You two are plenty good in this ring.
But Zaigon and me…we’re better.
I know you’re hearing this and getting’ fired up. Thinkin’ that I may have the power and the background, but you got grit, right? You’re tough. You been grinding that Junior Heavyweight Title on the weekly Breezy and Verez had to go tooth and claw for the Hardcore strap.
That’s the whole problem though.
You think that doing the work makes you tough.
We got one of you, a bona fide alien walkin’ into my country and thinkin’ you can find a way to break all the rules to come out on top. We got someone from California, practically a traitor, thinking that an honest day’s work makes you somethin’ special. I’ll tell you this for free, I been grinding since I was a kid. I worked my ass off and it didn’t make me special. That gold on your shoulders, that don’t make you special either. Sure, you’re the best among Light Heavyweights and Hardcore wrestlers, but so the hell what?
That was it for you.
That was the limit of your ambition.
You saw that you had gold on your shoulders, and you got full.
But me and Zaigon?
WE’RE ALWAYS HUNGRY BABY!
You took the coward’s way out. Declared yourselves the best and put a little asterisk on it and gave up on ever being a top three champ. You let your wins beat you. For all your hype, you just let yourself be content lordin’ over a shallow pool of competition because you took a glimpse into the ocean and just ‘bout shit your pants seein’ what’s out there.
And that?
That’s why you’re gonna lose.
Not because you ain’t great.
You saw the biggest challenge and you crumbled.
But the Storm?
Hell.
We roared.