The Book of America 4.4 - American Devils
Nov 16, 2020 23:27:04 GMT -5
Jason Ryan, cyborg878, and 1 more like this
Post by america on Nov 16, 2020 23:27:04 GMT -5
America watched tape of Damon Warrens title win.
The first one, nearly a year old now. A time when America hadn’t yet set his sights on APW or professional wrestling at all. Yet here this man was, calling himself an architect and building the foundation for the type of champion America Jackson would become. He’d thought when he faced Lex Collins that he had seen the best of what the Architects had been. When he threw hands with the World Champion on Metal, he knew that where Lex had been great in his time, Damon Warrens was great in his prime. He wouldn’t be someone America could steamroll on the path back to his title. When the two of them locked up…and it was a matter of when…America knew he’d be in for the fight of his life.
Still he saw the path ahead of him. When it came to it, no one had been able to beat Damon Warrens in a fair fight. Jason Ryan took a coward’s path, attacking him through the people he cared about and hounding him over and over until he got one lucky moment. America saw a man who was as different from him as could be. Someone who relished in the ability to do harm and would walk dark paths willingly. But also someone very alike. A man who would fight for what he thought to be right and give his all to defend that which is precious to him.
The bell rang. Damon Warrens was the World Champion. America restarted the video.
Before they would stand across from each other, the two men would have to stand beside each other. The tag team titles were on the line. An opportunity America had been calling for since he first entered the company. A summit he and Zaigon had never been able to reach. A chance they fought tooth and nail only to be denied, now presented to him as a new beginning.
He had to consider whether Warrens would betray him. He’d seen people do that. Had Zaigon do it to him. Yet that sliver of himself he saw in the champion put those fears at ease. Damon Warrens wasn’t some sort of base coward. He’d walked out, called his shot, taken a hit, and kept coming. America felt certain that if there was going to be a fight, it’d come at him head on with full preparation. That was the kind of champion Damon Warrens was. The same kind of champion America Jackson was.
A part of him hesitated still. If he should win the tag team titles with a man he’d soon have to step in the ring against, what next? But he knew the truth. Two consummate competitors…consummate champions. They’d be the tag team champions. They’d figure it out. That would be all there was to it. And if they should manage to do that…to overcome their differences and conquer the tag division as they had conquered the singles division?
God help whoever tried to stop them.
The Devil made me do it.
That’s what they like to tell you, right? I’ve been catching up on the resume of one Damon Warrens and he really was wasted on this place in that first run. They talk about pearls before swine, but y’all ran such a sloppy ship that you let Jason Ryan call his shots on the most genuinely great champ you’ve had to date. Absolutely shameful.
Everyone else wants a match with me, they go the long way round. People get handed things, people get their shots like gifts from on high, people leapfrog me to the shot at the World Heavyweight Championship that is so rightly mine. I gotta say, I did not expect the World Heavyweight Champ to come on down and amend that himself by calling me out. In a moment, my estimation of the man elevated several degrees. For the first time since Zaigon Carter walked out of this company I felt like I’d found someone who could be my equal.
So APW has the biggest match they could ever run.
The Greatest World Champion vs. the Greatest American Champion.
The fight to decide once and for all the Best in the World.
Sure they could sign that, but if they did who’d give Jason Ryan more shots six matches into a losing streak? Who’d be giving Damon messages more’n two weeks late for Halloween? Who’d walk on in here with their dick hard over being the last champ of a dead company begging for my attention?
In a place where the only way up seems to be falling, I guess the great have to fight against the tide to get to what we really want.
That’s what Damon Warrens and America Jackson are.
Great.
For everything that might divide us, every part of who we are that finds itself at odds with the other, we have that one thing deep within us in common. We’ve stepped up against each other, tested our mettle, and each of us knows that the other is someone who can take them to the absolute limit. If there was any question before we laid hands last week, it’s gone now.
America Jackson, best American Champ ever.
Damon Warrens, best World Champ ever.
To keep fighting against the tide of greatness, you thought you could give us a shot at titles neither of us have ever held?
Folks, I’m a farmboy. I know all about reaping and sowing.
The fact is you had two stoner fools walk into those titles and on their second night out you’ve sold them immediately to the wolves. They’re going to come out here and find that their little run of unexpected sudden success has hit a crashing halt because in trying to keep your champions from fighting, you’ve created a team that no one in this company can sniff. Jubei wanted to punish Indie Rebellion and truly I can think of no worse punishment than having to face us in a match with gold on the line.
We will batter you.
We will embarrass you.
We will leave you beaten, broken, and a few pounds of gold lighter.
It’s a promise I’ve made to every opponent I’ve had of late.
It’s a promise I’ve kept each and every time.
To beat one of us, you’d have to be on your best night ever.
Even then, you’d need luck on your side.
To beat both of us?
Ha.
No chance in hell, kids.
You better have something strong lined up to help with the pain after. Get a little smoke going to take the edge off the aches and the disappointment. When you see what real champions look like, you’ll realize that you were frauds all along. That this was inevitable. That your title run was over the minute you were booked against us.
We’re the concept of perfection.
We are THE BEST IN THE DAMN WORLD.
American Devils coming to lay waste to anyone dumb enough to stand in our way.
Your Rebellion is dead.
Long live the Kings.
The first one, nearly a year old now. A time when America hadn’t yet set his sights on APW or professional wrestling at all. Yet here this man was, calling himself an architect and building the foundation for the type of champion America Jackson would become. He’d thought when he faced Lex Collins that he had seen the best of what the Architects had been. When he threw hands with the World Champion on Metal, he knew that where Lex had been great in his time, Damon Warrens was great in his prime. He wouldn’t be someone America could steamroll on the path back to his title. When the two of them locked up…and it was a matter of when…America knew he’d be in for the fight of his life.
Still he saw the path ahead of him. When it came to it, no one had been able to beat Damon Warrens in a fair fight. Jason Ryan took a coward’s path, attacking him through the people he cared about and hounding him over and over until he got one lucky moment. America saw a man who was as different from him as could be. Someone who relished in the ability to do harm and would walk dark paths willingly. But also someone very alike. A man who would fight for what he thought to be right and give his all to defend that which is precious to him.
The bell rang. Damon Warrens was the World Champion. America restarted the video.
Before they would stand across from each other, the two men would have to stand beside each other. The tag team titles were on the line. An opportunity America had been calling for since he first entered the company. A summit he and Zaigon had never been able to reach. A chance they fought tooth and nail only to be denied, now presented to him as a new beginning.
He had to consider whether Warrens would betray him. He’d seen people do that. Had Zaigon do it to him. Yet that sliver of himself he saw in the champion put those fears at ease. Damon Warrens wasn’t some sort of base coward. He’d walked out, called his shot, taken a hit, and kept coming. America felt certain that if there was going to be a fight, it’d come at him head on with full preparation. That was the kind of champion Damon Warrens was. The same kind of champion America Jackson was.
A part of him hesitated still. If he should win the tag team titles with a man he’d soon have to step in the ring against, what next? But he knew the truth. Two consummate competitors…consummate champions. They’d be the tag team champions. They’d figure it out. That would be all there was to it. And if they should manage to do that…to overcome their differences and conquer the tag division as they had conquered the singles division?
God help whoever tried to stop them.
The Devil made me do it.
That’s what they like to tell you, right? I’ve been catching up on the resume of one Damon Warrens and he really was wasted on this place in that first run. They talk about pearls before swine, but y’all ran such a sloppy ship that you let Jason Ryan call his shots on the most genuinely great champ you’ve had to date. Absolutely shameful.
Everyone else wants a match with me, they go the long way round. People get handed things, people get their shots like gifts from on high, people leapfrog me to the shot at the World Heavyweight Championship that is so rightly mine. I gotta say, I did not expect the World Heavyweight Champ to come on down and amend that himself by calling me out. In a moment, my estimation of the man elevated several degrees. For the first time since Zaigon Carter walked out of this company I felt like I’d found someone who could be my equal.
So APW has the biggest match they could ever run.
The Greatest World Champion vs. the Greatest American Champion.
The fight to decide once and for all the Best in the World.
Sure they could sign that, but if they did who’d give Jason Ryan more shots six matches into a losing streak? Who’d be giving Damon messages more’n two weeks late for Halloween? Who’d walk on in here with their dick hard over being the last champ of a dead company begging for my attention?
In a place where the only way up seems to be falling, I guess the great have to fight against the tide to get to what we really want.
That’s what Damon Warrens and America Jackson are.
Great.
For everything that might divide us, every part of who we are that finds itself at odds with the other, we have that one thing deep within us in common. We’ve stepped up against each other, tested our mettle, and each of us knows that the other is someone who can take them to the absolute limit. If there was any question before we laid hands last week, it’s gone now.
America Jackson, best American Champ ever.
Damon Warrens, best World Champ ever.
To keep fighting against the tide of greatness, you thought you could give us a shot at titles neither of us have ever held?
Folks, I’m a farmboy. I know all about reaping and sowing.
The fact is you had two stoner fools walk into those titles and on their second night out you’ve sold them immediately to the wolves. They’re going to come out here and find that their little run of unexpected sudden success has hit a crashing halt because in trying to keep your champions from fighting, you’ve created a team that no one in this company can sniff. Jubei wanted to punish Indie Rebellion and truly I can think of no worse punishment than having to face us in a match with gold on the line.
We will batter you.
We will embarrass you.
We will leave you beaten, broken, and a few pounds of gold lighter.
It’s a promise I’ve made to every opponent I’ve had of late.
It’s a promise I’ve kept each and every time.
To beat one of us, you’d have to be on your best night ever.
Even then, you’d need luck on your side.
To beat both of us?
Ha.
No chance in hell, kids.
You better have something strong lined up to help with the pain after. Get a little smoke going to take the edge off the aches and the disappointment. When you see what real champions look like, you’ll realize that you were frauds all along. That this was inevitable. That your title run was over the minute you were booked against us.
We’re the concept of perfection.
We are THE BEST IN THE DAMN WORLD.
American Devils coming to lay waste to anyone dumb enough to stand in our way.
Your Rebellion is dead.
Long live the Kings.
