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Post by jay2k on Nov 8, 2009 16:04:42 GMT -5
.blacklisted. | three tgw.animosity | november.9.2009 darling vs franchise [/right] .:.:.:.:.:.:. backstage | jasper.wrestling.event. | tokyo.japan. | last.week." Ne, Lizu." The voice interrupted Liz Darling's concentration. She'd been sitting with her back against the wall, head leaned back, eyes closed as she just let the adrenaline and pain ebb away. If she got enough silence and time to concentrate on it, it reduced the need to pop a painkiller. There were enough horror stories about addiction out there that she had no desire to become another statistic. Thus, she lowered her head and opened her eyes to give Yoshitsune Misako, her tag partner and roommate, a withering look. "What is it?" Her tone conveyed her irritation at the interruption. Misako just raised her hands. "Nothing. Shinihime wanted to know if you needed to discuss strategy or something for the show next week." Liz regarded her partner. They were backstage at JASPER's latest event, a joshi-only show, which was getting rarer and rarer these days. Murasame Masaki, JASPER's owner and promoter, was concentrating more and more effort on ASPEN these days, but he hadn't completely forgotten the sister promotion. JASPER at least ran 'dual shows' with their onii-san promotion, being booked on the same show, sometimes in mixed tag matches. Liz, in her JASPER persona of 'Black Betty,' and Misako, in her own persona as 'Ebony Jetta,' had just emerged victorious in a match against their perennial (or perhaps eternal would be a better term) rivals, the Sentai JEWELS Sapphire Blue and Ruby Red. But Murasame had announced that at the ASPEN/JASPER dual show next week, the Dark Beauties-- Betty, Jetta, and their third partner Dark Pearl-- would team with Shinihime against the JEWELS-- Sapphire, Ruby, and Emerald Green-- and Hai Neko. It was a big showcase match for JASPER, and thus very important that their team emerge the victors. "Not much strategizing to do," Liz replied, closing her eyes again. "We've wrestled the JEWELS more times than I can count. Beaten them consistently. And of the four of us, both 'Hime and I have beaten Hai Neko one-on-one. Nothing to worry about." There was an awkward silence, and Liz cracked an eye. Misako was looking slightly concerned. Liz sighed. "We can talk strategy later this week, 'Sako-chan. There's no rush to do it tonight." Her partner nodded. "Okay. I'll leave you alone." And she did. Grateful for the silence, Liz started to relax again, letting the pain in her knee dwindle away. She had a minute or two of time to herself before she became aware of a looming presence. She opened her eyes and looked up into the doughy, blotchy face of an angry Tsuruga Kazuma. She sighed. "What do you want, Tsurgua?" She unthinkingly dropped the "-san" honorific, and then realized she'd done so when his face went blotchier. "Your brother," he spat. "He humiliated me." She simply shrugged. "My brother humiliates a lot of people. Yet people are always surprised when he does it again." She leaned her head back against the wall, then sighed as he took a step forward. "What?" she snapped. "You want me to apologize on his behalf? For what? He's Jack Darling, the biggest asshole on the planet. He apologizes to no one, least of all to you." Now Tsuruga loomed over her. "I would be more respectful, gaijin," he snarled. She surprised him by gathering her legs under her, and standing to her full height. He still towered over her, but there was no fear in her expression as she prodded him in his gut. "Respectful? To you? Tsuruga, have you not heard the expression 'respect is earned, not given?'" "American saying," he retorted. "You are in Japan. Respect is everything here." She nodded at that. "Yes," she said simply. "It is. That should tell you something, shouldn't it?" "It tells me that you don't understand what respect is, just like your brother." She laughed. "Jack? Jack knows perfectly well what respect is. He has more respect for the hierarchy than you do." Tsuruga snorted. "That's a joke. Jack Darling is no better than me. He's disrespected everyone and everything. He treats everyone like garbage." "He does that now," she said. "He wasn't like you. He waited until he had the credentials and accomplishments to back up his words before pissing everyone off." She smiled thinly. "You could stand to learn a few things from his example, Tsuruga." She pointed at him. "You stand here, illegally backstage at one of Mursame-san's shows. Many of his wrestlers in ASPEN are just down the hall, visiting their girlfriends or their wives. One scream from me," she pointed out, "would bring them investigating, and when they find you, Kazuma, there won't be enough left of you to fill a casket. You are persona non grata, unwanted, unwelcome, and unloved. I should go away if I were you." She scooped up her bag and turned to leave, but Tsuruga's hand slammed into the wall, blocking her escape route. "I could kill you," he growled, "for speaking to me in such words. Perhaps I should do it anyway, simply because of the name you have." He leered as he leaned closer, sniffing at her hair. "Though perhaps not without taking recompense for the insults your family has caused against me--" That was as far as he got before her hand flashed out, jamming two knuckles into his eyes. He let out a scream, leaning back again, and then a strangled cry as the knuckles of her other hand snapped out into his Adam's apple. He crumpled to a knee, one hand clasped to his throat, and then he grunted as a hand tangled in his hair, pulling his head backward. Tsuruga blinked up at Liz, and found her hand in front of his face, a small canister aimed at his eyes. They were a frozen tableau for several moments, which was enough time for the locker rooms to empty. Men and women, wrestlers and stagehands, stood in the hall, and beheld the sight: the gaijin woman with the namagomi helpless on his knees. His eyes flicked briefly to this, then back to Liz, who did not waver in the slightest. "This is the most potent mace on the market," she said, conversationally. "The smallest amount in the eyes can render a grown man blind for thirty-six hours, plus it irritates the nasal cavities, making it very difficult to breathe without wheezing. I am about one bad decision on your part away from emptying the entire canister into those beady little eyes of yours, Kazuma, so listen to what I have to say, and don't say a fucking word." She waited a moment for the gravity of the situation to sink in, and then she continued. "You want to know why my brother can get away with being Jack Darling? It's simple. When he was coming up in this business, he was a disrespectful punk, sure. Felt the world owed him. But there was one group of people he didn't disrespect, and that was the promoters. Sure, Jack thought he was better than them, felt they deserved to give him everything, but he toed the line. He would enrage and piss off every wrestler in the locker room, but when it came to the promoters, he kept his ego and his tongue in check. Even thirteen years ago, word traveled fast. "Once he had proven to the business that he could draw, that he could put on one hell of a show, and bring a shitload of money to the promoters... once he had the ability to cherry-pick his booking opportunities... once he had money to fall back on... that's when Jack started becoming a really insufferable asshole. "You, on the other hand, are barely half a handful of years into your career. All you have is potential. You could have been a big name in this industry, Kazuma. But you felt like you deserved it now, and so you got cocky and karma served you a faceful of humble pie. Murasame-san rightfully destroyed your career, and so all you have now is potential you'll never be able to realize. You're a big, fat failure, an overgrown man-child with anger management problems and a tendency to let your mouth write checks your body can't cash." She withdrew the canister of mace, and leaned down to spit in his eye instead. "Run along, little boy. Get out of my sight before I take yours away." She shoved his head away, then strode off down the hall, the assembled throng parting to let her through, then turning back to look at Tsuruga. He flushed, face blotchy, eyes bloodshot. "What are you looking at?!" he demanded, trying to salvage something. Toshiro Jinryu, Murasame's heavyweight champion, shook his head. "I am looking at nothing." And, as one, the crowd turned their backs and walked away. .:.:.:.:.:.:. Last week was a joke.
I mean, none of us in the Blacklist were expecting Wade Mason to, I dunno, open up the pursestrings and bring in top-grade competition. But I don't think we were expecting the quartet of failures he gave us last week.
Let's be honest here. The Blacklist has come, like a pack of wolves, to TGW, a herd of sheep. We've slaughtered anyone that stands in our way. We are, the lot of us, undefeated on all fronts. You've offered up nothing in the way of a defense, short of throwing out cannon fodder.
R.U. Trippin and his three buddies last week were just meat-shields in the best definition of the word. They were pieces of meat thrown in front of a hungry wolf pack, torn to bits with scarcely any effort.
After the match, of course, we saw one drunk idiot try to start something, and I was hoping he just might supply us with some amusement before we rightfully kicked his sagging ass from here to Timbuktu. And then Jake Norton, of all people, resurfaced.
He had some words to say elsehwere on the Internet about why he did it, and is using our one and only encounter down in South America for Absolute Pro as the basis for targeting me. See, I walked out on him in mid-tag match to let him get his ass kicked, and he seems to think I did it because he reminded me of Scott Free.
Jake, don't flatter yourself. Even Scott Free, on his worst day, was better competition than you are if you had the power of the Almighty on your side.
You want to know why I walked out on you, Jake? Because I'm Jack Darling. That's why.
You can't even claim you didn't know it was coming. I said before that match: I don't play well with others.
And before the savvy among you can laugh and say, Then what are you doing with the Blacklist, Jack? I will tell you this: Teresa, Reina, and V all understand the score. I'm in this up until the moment I'm not. They can trust me to be Jack Darling. As long as being in the Blacklist works for me, I'm in it. The moment I decide that the Blacklist doesn't work for me, I'm gone.
They know it. I know they know it. But damn, if our alliance hasn't worked out perfectly so far. We're undefeated and unstoppable. You're all fucked, and you just don't know it yet.
Another thing. People seem to think that I'm the ringleader. That I'm calling the shots. This is not so. We are an alliance of peers. That's right, I'm doing what nobody though possible: putting someone else on my level. Teresa Quaranta, Reina Morgan, and V are all my peers.
Teresa has talent in great quantities, and she knows how to make use of all of it. The only thing I have that she doesn't is experience, and she's picking up more of that every day. She's got a mind for this business that rivals my own. I don't have to give her orders; she can think for herself, and formulate plans that I can sit back and admire.
Reina has skill and aggression on her side. She thrives on the adversity, she lives to hurt other people. If it's someone she has reason to hate, all the better, and she's back in the States, a situation that only heightens her fury. I don't have to give her orders; she'll tear someone apart if she feels like it, and even if she doesn't, because she's a force of nature in her own right.
V has much of the same qualities as Reina. He's got a good head on his shoulders, he knows how to hurt people with efficiency, and he likes to do it. He's with us because being on our side gives him more targets. I don't have to order him around; he attacks someone because it seems like a good idea to do it, and he knows how to pick his moments.
Wade Mason seems to realize that he's got a problem, but where we differ from other groups looking to dominate a wrestling company is this: we're not going after the Staff. The second you do something like that, you give them an excuse to fire you. Unless you're Cody Clark, in which case you fight them in a pay-per-view match and lose.
Mason, however, can see we're making him money no matter how much our methods hurt his wrestlers. And so he rewards us: championship opportunities. After this week, I'll be one of the challengers for the TGW Championship, currently held by the most undeserving champion of all time: David Blazenwing, who lost a match and got a title shot.
Trust me, folks. When The Blazenbitch steps into the arena at Onslaught, he'd better be damn well looking over his shoulder. I will take full advantage of the rules of the situation, beat him senseless, take his title, and then sit back, surrounded by my own personal security, and then stroll out to the ring and defend the title and walk out of Texas your new champion.
Ah, but first... Russell Franchise.
They call you the 'A-Game,' it would seem. Former football player in high school and college, and even played in the pros for the Panthers for... says here seven seasons! Wow!
How come I've never heard of you?
Oh, wait, you were one of those guys running around on the sideline with the big giant team flag, trying to rally the crowd behind the home team, and party along with everyone else when you've contributed exactly nothing to the game going on.
Clearly you never accomplished much of anything while with the Panthers. Heck, you couldn't even help them win the Super Bowl. And when you realized you wouldn't ever be a second-stringer, let along play in the game, you decided you wanted to be a pro wrestler.
Pardon me while I vomit.
I've seen dozens of guys like you. Former pro players in some other sport, couldn't make it there, you go into pro wrestling, which boggles the fucking mind. I mean, I've seen guys who've played everything: football, baseball, basketball, rugby, soccer... hell, I've even met a former gymnast (seriously, go Bing the name Gym-Nasty and laugh your lungs out at how quickly he gets his ass kicked), and nine times out of ten, they can't make the transition to our sport.
That remaining example? Oh, they'll make it to the status of midcard-player, maybe hold a second-tier title, and be hyped like fuck, but on the off-chance they make it to the big dance, to the main event to wrestle for the championship... exactly the same thing happens then as happened when they were in their former profession:
They choke.
Any of this sound familiar, Russell? Mr. Second-Tier, Volitionary Champion? Mr. Didn't Win The TGW Title?
Yes, I'm pointing out the obvious. Nothing I've seen gives me any hope that you'd be able to grasp it unless it was glued to your fucking hand.
You call yourself 'Franchise.' You're not a franchise. You're not even a trademark. Not even worthy of an Internet meme on 4chan, and they meme everything. You want to talk about a franchise, Russell?
Jack Darling International.
JDI Enterprises, my own personal company, is one of the top-earning companies in North America right now. JDI Media produces movies, TV shows, music, and video games and has offices in both New York and Los Angeles, and we're opening our North office in Toronto next year. JDI Energy pumps one of the largest oil-fields in America that wasn't snapped up by one of the big oil companies. It also includes the mining interest I acquired years ago, which has exclusive rights to the only bauxite mine in the continent, thus reducing our dependency on foreign bauxite mines. (Hint for the clueless: bauxite is a necessary ore in the production of aluminum.) JDI Fashions creates new trends in New York and London, and thanks to a family connection, we have a deal with DeBeers to produce jewelry. And last, but certainly not least, JDI Finance: the branch of the company that got me started, that made me my first seven-figures, that made my first eight-figures. The branch of the company that bought out my own father's company, the Darling Financial Group, which made the Darling name so fabulously wealthy in the first place.
Hell, a franchise is a name that means something, that sells something, that makes money. The name "Jack Darling" may trigger a wave of instant hatred from the fans, but damn if it doesn't sell a shitload of tickets. When I show my face on television, the ratings go up. When I declare my intent to be on a pay-per-view, the buyrates soar. When I'm announced for a show, tickets sell out.
That is a franchise, Russell.
You can yourself the 'A-Game?' For what? Washing out of the NFL of your own volition? You didn't win any Heismann trophies. You didn't win any Super Bowl rings. Hell, I doubt you even have one of the Panthers' Conference Championship rings. Or one of their Division Championship rings. All you have to your name is a mid-tier championship. You wanna talk about 'A-Game,' Russell?
Let's talk about coming from obscurity to becoming a household name in less than a year. Let's talk about headlining one of the biggest wrestling pay-per-views in history, going head-to-head with one of the best damn wrestlers of the current generation, deconstructing the entire myth he'd sold himself on, and pinning his shoulders to the mat to win a World Championship. Let's talk about becoming one of the most hated men in the industry for speaking the truth, and shattering peoples' fantasies by giving them a good hard dose of reality.
That is 'A-Game,' Russell. What you have isn't that. You're not the 'A-Game.' You're not even 'AAA-Game.'
You can call yourself 'Franchise,' you can call yourself the 'A-Game,' you can call yourself anything. When you get in the ring with Jack Darling, you can call yourself one thing:
Bitch.[/b] .blacklisted. | three | end
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Post by Russell Francis on Nov 8, 2009 19:25:59 GMT -5
Female: Excuse me, sir....
Franchise: No, I'm here to see Mr. Darling!
Female: What is your name sir?
Franchise: Just tell him a large black man is downstairs for him. He'll know who's here!
Female: Do you happen to have a meeting scheduled for Mr. Darling?
Franchise: I do, but it's set for Monday Night, but I really, really wanna see him today!
Female: Hold for one second.......yes, I need some help at the lobby. There is a man looking to speak with Mr. Darling about...
Franchise: Tell him, it's a HARD PRESSING issue that if it's not resolved might prove highly dangerous for him!
Female: Yes, it's something very important.
As Russell Franchise sat in the push waiting room flipping through the August 22 issue of Sports Illustrated, the one with the college football preview and Tim Tebow's picture on the front cover, management and security of JDI Los Angeles huddled together in the back trying to decided how to quell the situation. Jack Darling was not in but still a office wide memo had been given office wide about his next match between Russell Franchise. Security thought that Franchise was going to attack an otherwise defenseless Darling, causing Franchise to gain a little bit of advantage heading into Monday Night.
It was settled that the Director of Personnel, David Goldberg, would be better suited to handle the delicate situation of defusing an otherwise explosive bomb.
Goldberg: Mr. Franchise, my name is David Goldberg, Director of Personnel at JDI LA. Mr. Darling is currently out of the office, but I may handle any pressing situation...
Franchise: That is great! You see, I didn't even know that Jack Darling was a big millionaire with lots of offices world wide. I mean, he went through my history and saw that I was an accomplished football player but didn't even manage to acknowledge the "accomplished" part of it. So, I did my own research on him and I found some lovely information. I found where he used to wrestle at...some federation called Studio 21...look at it, and his only accomplishment in a wrestling ring was holding onto the TNA World Tag Team Championship for a long time. And I'm sitting there and I ask myself...he's calling my Volutionary Title "second-tier" but he has maybe the third tier title as his lone accomplishment!
Goldberg: Now, sir, I'm not really familiar with professional wrestling, but I would assume that it is a honor to have any title.
Franchise: Mr. Goldberg...you are correct! Any title is a honor to have. I mean, I have the Volutionary Title. This means at any time, I can call what type of title defense I want! That means, if I want to contest this with Steel Cage rules, it's done! Maybe I want a gauntlet match, it's did! Did you know I've had my title for about 2 months now?
Goldberg: Well, congratulations, sir.
Franchise: Thanks! Now, Jack Darling was a tag team champion, which technically means that he could have hired some jobber to beat guys up and all he had to do was tag himself in, do his little gay finishing move and collect the glory for himself.
Goldberg: I would highly doubt that...
Franchise: Sir, you're a logical person...as well as a snazzy dresser...is that an Oscar de la Renta 3-piece suit you're wearing?
Goldberg: Well, a custom tailored piece sir, straight from the head man himself!
Franchise: That's great! All I want to say to Mr. Jack Darling is judge not yet ye be judged! I mean, I searched every search engine in the world, even Bing and Google. Also, could you tell him that I did google Gym-Nasty! QUICKEST ASS WHOOPING EVER! In fact, when I looked up Jack Darling I didn't even see anything about championships or accomplishments inside the ring. So all I know, he was just a tag team champion. Also, I found some images of him in gay porn by accident. I guess when you mistakenly type in "Jack Off Darling", you get a whole lot of different things. BUT I DIGRESS! But the fact of the matter is..I don't care if he's a industrialist trying to deal with the pressures of being rich for the rest of his life. When you make fun or light the stuff I do on a daily basis, that is when the shit gets real!
I don't want him to view me as a former pro football player turned star wrestler this week, I want him to view me as the unstoppable force he can't deal with. If he wants to make it to Onslaught, he has to deal with me! And I promise you, I'm not letting Jack.....OFF Darling get close to the World Title! Blacklist will not hold to the 2 Titles in the TGW world! And I promise you , Mr. Goldberg, at Animosity, Jack Off Darling better get his health insurance paid up, because if I don't kill him, I'LL CRIPPLE HIM!
Goldberg: (angry) Alright, sir. I've been told by security that if you don't have anything official to say that you should just leave the promises before we are forced to make you leave!
Franchise: Hold up, I got something to push too. Now, when I heard that Darling had a media company, I just had to come down, because I had a great idea for a show. I'm calling it....WHO'S THE BITCH, NOW? with THE 'A' GAME! In fact, we're going to be filming the pilot episode this Monday night at Animosity!
This is how it will go! I'll star as myself, Russell Franchise, THE 'A' Game! THE ONLY CONSTANT IN TGW! And every week, some douchebag industrialist, who's trying to cover up the fact that his penis is very, very small, will try to look up my history and trash talk about my accomplishments and he'll talk about how supposedly "rich" and "talented" and better than I am! Then, I'll walk to the ring, and simply put, I'll beat him til blood comes out his mouth! I mean, I'll stomp him out, might TAG him a couple of times.
And then, when I know he can't take anymore punishment, I'll bring a mike into the ring and ask him; "WHO'S THE BITCH NOW, BITCH!" If he says anything other than that he's the bitch, the asswhooping will commence some more until he declares himself the bitch! Do you think you can pass that message to him?
Goldberg: (Shell-shocked) Um....please leave before....
Franchise: I know, I know, I gotta go. But you tell your boss, MR. JACK......OFF DARLING to bring his camera crew, and I'll simply bring......THE A GAME!
Franchise walks out of the building with a smirk on his face!
Goldberg: You know, that would be a good show to watch! See Franchise beat the shit out JACK..........OFF! Hope Mr. Darling doesn't have microphones in this place!
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Post by jay2k on Nov 8, 2009 21:29:22 GMT -5
.blacklisted. | four tgw.animosity | november.9.2009 darling vs franchise .:.:.:.:.:.:. ...Okay. So, I've just read a report from my L.A. office's Personnel Director, as well as tapes of a conversation he had with none other than Russell Francis -- known to himself and apparently to others as Russell Franchise.
Let me get this straight, Russell. You -- a large, muscular black man -- come marching in off the street in a business district, barge up to the reception desk of a well-connected conglomerate, demand to speak to the company's president and chairman, all in a very threatening tone.
You know, I'm honestly surprised you weren't thrown out by security.
Let me examine all the ways in which you were wrong.
First. What in the blue fuck is a Studio 21? You seem to imply they were connected to TNA Wrestling, which is not the case. Or maybe it is the case, but in any case, I did not wrestle for them. If they have someone on their roster named Jack Darling, then I need to issue a cease-and-desist and make the poor bastard change his name or something.
See, now, if you'd used a quality search engine, like Bing, you might have found the right information. Or, here's an idea! You could have gone to TGW's office and asked for a copy of my official bio. Like I did for yours. It's no biggie. I know it's not your fault that you're a fucking retard.
...Oh wait. Yes it is.
Take a look at my official TGW bio. It lists the many achievements I had in Epic Wrestling Organization. I won every championship they recognized. I was named Wrestler of the Year for 2008. I wrestled in the Match of the Year that same year. I headlined their biggest pay-per-view, Supremacy, where I defeated their most dominant world champion.
Second. You imply that I would choose 'some jobber' as a tag partner. While I freely admit to being difficult to work with, a quick check of my recent history would show that anyone I chose as a tag partner was someone with a great deal of talent, experience, and an ability to get the job done.
Raymon Vilaar is a twenty-six year veteran of the business, and the most respected wrestler to come out of Europe. He's one of the toughest bastards I've ever met, and even at his age, he can kick anyone's ass.
Scott Free, for all that he was a repugnant human being who deserved to die, was still a damn good wrestler, and he had a track record of winning matches. Partnering with him was dangerous, but it helped me complete my Grand Slam in eWo.
The Blacklist is no different. Before I agreed to go along with Teresa's idea, I wanted to be sure we were talking about quality partners. People we could rely on to be able to do what they had to do. So far, I've no complaints.
Third. Jack - Dramatic Pause - Off Darling? That was the best you could come up with? Seriously? Does anybody have any original material? I suppose I should be fucking grateful that you didn't make the Peter Pan reference that so many other people seem to like to make to my last name.
Or try to claim that Darling can't possibly be my real name. Honestly, Russell, make all the jokes you want about my name. I guarantee you I've heard them all. If not from other wrestlers, then I heard them when I was growing up.
Fourth. You took offense because I made fun of what you do for a living? Oh. Oh, my. I ... I had no idea you were so offended by that! I... I need to contact the media.
Alert the news channels! Stop the presses! The whole world needs to know something very important!
Russell Francis was offended by something Jack Darling said!
You are fucking retarded. I know I'm repeating myself in saying that, but it really does bear repeating.
You went up to Los Angeles, barged up to the desk of a multinational, multi-billion-dollar company, made threats to the president of said company, wasted the time of a very busy man, all because you were offended by something I said?
Wow. I didn't think it was possible for someone to be that out of touch with reality.
I'm Jack Fucking Darling, Russell. Offending people is what I do. If you've ever listened to my promos, you probably walked away, at the very least, with an urge to punch me in the face. I consider it a job well done.
The fact that you spent considerable time and energy doing all of the aforementioned things just tells me that, in your case, it was a job exceptionally well done.
Fifth. You imply that I'll come out to the ring, and you'll just stomp away until I declare that I'm your bitch or something. You used much more colorful language. Insisted you're the 'A-Game,' the 'only constant in TGW,' things like that.
You were the only constant in TGW. Since you came here, things have changed. There's a new constant now. The Blacklist. Our presence changes the equation. Now there's a much bigger constant, and it's myself and my colleagues.
All you are now is a big, angry black man. And that makes you just another statistic. I've wrestled and beaten dozens-- if not hundreds by now-- of men like you. You get angry, you make mistakes. You come in swinging, trying to brawl. I go amateur-style on you, take your legs out from under you, and tie you into a knot.
In fact, I think that's how I'll beat you, Russell. Tie you up into the Eternity Lock, rear bench and really lock in that hold, and just keep up the pressure until one of two things happens: You pass out or you tap out. Now, you'll probably try to claim that you'd sooner pass out than give me the satisfaction of tapping out. And that's fine. Either way, I win the match.
But for all your talk, Russell, all your boasts and claims, I think you will tap out.
Because you could have done your homework and seen that I was in Philadelphia this week, visiting my ailing grandfather. You could have come to Philly to make your case. I would have taken the time out of my busy schedule to let you say-- to my face-- what was on your mind, about how you were gonna whup my ass and make me say I was a bitch, et cetera, et cetera.
You could've done that. You could've waited 'till Monday and told me right before our match what you were gonna do, maybe see me try to scramble to come up with a gameplan.
But you didn't. Instead, you settled for delivering a message via proxy. You didn't wait to speak to me face-to-face. You took the pussy's way out.
Oh, wait. Wrong word. You're not a pussy, Russell. You are exactly what I said you are.
A bitch. .blacklisted. | four | end
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