Post by Spartan on Jul 20, 2019 19:10:30 GMT -5
Week of Alpha Showdown
Tristan John Cross walks into the office of his primary trainer, Jerry Eisenhower. The old man is sitting behind his desk. He is leaning back in his chair with his snake-skin cowboy boots on the desk; he is blowing smoke circles into the air above his head, he sees Cross as he makes his way across the dingy office floor to the desk and he makes no effort to move to be courteous to his guest.
“Don’ siddown, son.” he rasps through the smoke.
Cross rolls his eyes and tosses an envelope on the desk. Jerry picks it up and looks it over, it is white like any generic office envelope and lacks discernible features.
“What’s this, son?” he croaks as he rests his cigar in the cracked black porcelain ashtray that rests in the mess that his desk. “Ya quittin? Figures, they all quit anyway.” Eisenhower opens the envelope with a forefinger. He looks inside and sees it’s contents.
“A ticket to Alpha Showdown.” Cross helpfully tells him.
Eisenhower pulls out the ticket and looks it over “Vega, huh, son. Pay. Per. View.” Eisenhower puts the ticket in the envelope. “Don’t get too fucked up.” says Eisenhower as drops the ticket on the desk and picks his cigar back up and starts puffing away.
“You coming?”
“Only in me favourite wimmen, son.”
Cross shakes his head, “See ya in a week then, Jerry.”
“See ya, son.”
He’s right
God damn it. He’s right.
Spartan. Alpha Pro Banner.
“You're right Z-Mac. In every possible way, Z-Mac you’re right and there is nothing I can do about it. No matter why I try. And there is nothing Dean Wolf can do about it, either. Plain and simple - you are bastion of truth when it comes down to one simple thing leading into the Hardcore Title Match at Alpha Showdown.”
“You’re controlling the narrative.”
“Every inch of the fucking way. This is playing out on your terms and right now, there is nothing I can do about it. You’ve eviscerated me verbally, like a butchers slices the insides of a pig. You’ve exposed Dean Wolf as nothing but a largemouth hooked on the worms that are your words. In your mind, we ain’t even trying - we are just reacting to the venom you spill forth. A meal to your great white shark.”
“We are fighting a losing battle, right?”
“You out hardcore on the map, right? You made hardcore, horror kore, right? We can’t possibly beat you in the match, right? You were unlucky in One Big Brawl, right?”
“Actually, losing to a school boy in a match like is pretty fucking unlucky. But it shows a lack of awareness at a crucial moment. But you aren’t going to mistake again, right? You’re a lunatic, right? You disintegrate me with diatribe and disembowel me with brutality, right?”
“And there is nothing, I can do about that, right?”
“Because all of this - Alpha Showdown - it’s about you. You are the one that will put the working classes asses in the working class seats as you are fond of saying. They are only coming to see you and whose bones you will break off and grind into dust, right? The unwashed masses only want you to bathe in the blood of those that fall at your feet, right?”
“If I;m not willing stand in the ring, in the crowd, the roof of the MGM Grand, I’m going to horror gone, right? Because if I am not willing to do those things, I’m not horror kore enough, right?”
“Yeh.”
“You’re right, Z-Mac.”
“In everything you lay out, even in the way you lay it out. You’re right. And the more you speak, the more you come out and draw on whiteboards the more Wolf and I fall into your traps, because you’re right - we can’t compete with bullshit you spill. And the more you speak, the more pits you build in our path for us to fall into and allow to stroll all the way to a victory at Alpha Showdown, because that’s what you’re gonna do, right? Win, right?”
“Wolf and I are just afterthoughts in your quest to rule the hard… sorry horror kore division. Well, I might be - but I’m pretty certain your taking an illicit pleasure in targeting Wolf. Maybe because he pinned you in the One Big Brawl or maybe because he just eats you worm words like a Largemouth Bass.”
“Can’t say right or wrong on that one.”
“But I can say I would be stupid to stand up to you, right? You’re a legend, Z-Mac for the words you spit and violence you bring, right? When it all said and done they carve idols of you in all of your horror kore glory, right? I can’t compete with that can I, right?”
“Such is your impact, right, Badger?”
“So why should I bother?”
“Why should someone like me even bother. Why should I fight right now. I ain’t no legend. I’m no killer. I’m no fucking veteran still kicking it past my use by date looking to return to my glory days like Michael Jordan in a Wizards uniform. I ain’t even trying to fulill someone else’s dream like Michael Jordan playing for the Birmingham Barons. I’m just a rookie that stood up for a few minutes and a series of fortunate events fell my way. Didn’t win, didn’t do nothing special either.”
“So why should I bother, Z?”
“Because I’m fucking here. I’m in this match. I might lack the history. I might lack the backstory. And I certainly can’t throw back to two thousand and fucking twelve and talk about remaking the fucking glory days. But I am in this fucking match and I am not going to roll over fucking die.”
“I’m going to fight. I expect to bleed. I expect to hurt. Hell, I would be fucking surprised if they take me out of the MGM Grand through the car park in god damned ambulance. And let me be right for a minute, if I don’t win the Hardcore Title at Showdown that’s how they will be taking me out - because I am in this match.”
“Fuck, Z, they might even take me out in a fuckin’ hearse, given what you’re known to be capable of, right?
“Now, Dean. Up until I’m been standing here talking about Big Ol’ Z and that’s just the way he fucking likes it - the centre of attention. And you’ve really accomodated him on that shit. But it would be remiss of me to dismiss the champ. So now it’s your turn.”
That was stilted. Oh well.
“See, Dean - you’ve been primary reason that Z-Mac has been able to drive hom the narrative of this match. Hell, your basic reason I have been cast aside and almost forgotten about. Your fixation on the coked-up madman is what has almost pushed me out the back door.”
“Almost.”
“But I am still here. I am still surging forward.”
“I’m not going away just because you want to get even with Z-Mac because of his verbal vitriol has slighted you.in some way. From the stories I have heard the reason that Z-Mac has got into your head so much is because you feel regret for your own actions, or more truthfully your own inactions.”
“You know what, not my problem, right?”
“It’s yours. And that’s fine. We all have regets. It’s part of the circle of life. Its how we get past them that comes to define us. Big Ol’ Z, he doesn’t dwell on shit - and he don’t like something he just rewrites history until the rest of the world see it as fact. You? You use your regrets to drive yourself forward and straight light a fire in your belly. That fire, it drove you straight into a Hardcore Title victory.”
“Can’t deny that.”
“And now you want to make amends for the sins of your past, while simultaneously driving a stake through the heart of Z-Mac for using unkind words?”
“What would your mother say?”
“Low blow. Sorry.”
“But that’s the crux of your drive right now, right? Or am I wrong?”
“You want to kill Z, and realistically I am in the way, because of the ideas of a mad Russian vixen. Not your fault, not my fault - but that’s where we are. And I am not going to stand in your way if you want kill Z. Your fight will him ain’t my fight. But I will make sure I’m there to pick up a quick three count on the carcass of the Honey Badger. Because, my fight is for the Hardcore Title - I didn’t choose to put in this match, but put in this match I was - so I will push forward with my chance.”
“Lucky we’re in Vega then right, the perfect place to take advantages of even the smallest chances and make a fortune, right?”
“Some would say I will need more than a bit of luck to win this match, Dean. Hell, you would probably be one of them to say that - because my chances would be so miniscule. Shit, for me to win this match, most would consider it a bigger upset than Country House winning the two thousand and nineteen Kentucky Derby.”
“But it’s still a chance.”
“And while I’ve got a chance. I’m going to take my fucking chances. If I need to be in your cross hairs, Wolf. I will be. If you have to kick me in the nuts, for me to get you close enough to me, so I can put you down. Then I will take that kick in the nuts. If you want to take me for a drive all over the strip while I cling onto the hood of a car.”
“Because I gotta take my chances to win this match. No matter how small.”
“Else there is no point of me even turning up to Showdown and there is no way I am going to do that. I will be there and I will be fighting.”
“If I turn up I get beaten.”
“If I lose. I get beaten.”
“If I win. I get beaten.”
“Whichever you look at it I am going to beaten, Wolf. But, you know what - even though I know I am going to take a beating. I also know that I am going to be able to dish out a beating.”
“Give some. Take some.”
“Take some more. Give some more.”
“It’s a strangely invigorating feeling, Dean, to know what is going to happen before it happens.”
“I like it that way.”
“Dean Wolf - hey ho, let’s go. I’ll deal with whatever comes my way. I will deal with all the repercussions of this match. I’m sure I will be wounded, but wounds will heal. But most of all, Dean - I will deal it all with no regrets.”
“No apology needed.”
Spartan cracks his knuckles and spits on the ground in front of his feet.
“Zee, Wolf - see you in Paradise.”
