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Post by Wade Mason on Oct 20, 2009 4:17:19 GMT -5
[Single Match] Teresa Quaranta Vs. Shane Magnus
Limit: Two Each Maximum First Deadline: Saturday October 24th at 11:59pm EST Final Deadline: Sunday October 25th at 11:59pm EST
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Post by teresaquaranta on Oct 24, 2009 0:06:00 GMT -5
.::. fear is the worst kind of pain .::. A lot of people say that a lifestyle built around brutish displays of violence, emotional manipulation, and the nearly obscene pursuit of self-gratification would only lead to self destruction and heartache. But let's be honest, those people probably aren't as good at it as I am. It's been two weeks since I felt Cody Only buckle and throw his head back in agony, two weeks since the Blacklist humiliated a world champion, secure in the knowledge that there was nothing he could do about it - then or ever. Two weeks, and I don't think I've ever been happier in my life. And I don't mean superficial gratification - I feel satisfied. On a spiritual level. I feel like I'm doing what I was made to do. And isn't that what we all want out of life? I stretch out on the couch and took a deep breath, let this sharp smelling herbal stuff go in. Things were better. I had all kinds of expensive gizmos that wouldn't have been out of place on an episode of Pinky and the Brain - sold em. Looking back, it might have been a "safe" way to get all this out. I don't know, I'm not in the mood to analyze. Either way, punching Jordan Albrecht in the teeth might be a smaller scale, but it's much less expensive. And we had a match last week. The opening salvo. The "best" that TGW had to offer, right off the bat. We hadn't worked together as a unit before, but we had the advantage of knowing and trusting each other's talent. And the end result was exactly the one we saw coming. Albrecht got tunnel vision, and Darling removed his head from his shoulders. There was so much talk about Jack not being a team player - but when he was backed up with people he didn't have to carry... knowing that your partners aren't fuckups is a luxury. A luxury most people can't afford. Shane Magnus, for example. I rub my jaw, not with pain so much as the memory. I'd like to say that attacking Blazenwing was a move on a giant chessboard, one of my intricate strategies, but... I felt an impulse and acted on it. I saw Blazenwing walking the halls, looking smug, feeling more pleased with himself than he deserved to be, Reina was with me - she'll fight at the drop of a hat for any reason... or no reason. And I wanted to take that little slice of happiness away. And I was more concerned with fun than fairness, to be honest. I narrow my eyes and try to remember the last time I was pinned in a match. August. 2008. And even that came after getting hit in the back of the head with a gavel. What do I remember the most about Magnus, rushing to the rescue before we could do something really cool. It isn't the slap that stands out. It's... the defiance. I've always loved watching the lights go out of someone, when they decide that the pain outweighs their pride or the belt or whatever's motivating them. It's only been a couple weeks, but I haven't seen that from Magnus yet, and I really want to. Mostly because if we're - The door creaks open before I can finish that thought. I open an eye and smile as Rei enters the room. "Good work last week. Hey, I was looking to ask you about -" The door shuts. She ignores the little greeting and folds her arms. "You and me need to have a conversation." I lean back and lift my eyebrows a little - I can tell from her tone that we're about to have A Very Serious Conversation, but I can't really think anything she's got to say would be too stressful. "Shoot." "The first night I came into San Diego, I knocked out Tsuruga." She came a little closer. "But you gave him advance notice that I was coming for him. And on top of that, you sent him after me at the same time." "Your body language is very aggressive right now, and you're intimidating me. I don't think you're actually going to attack me, but you standing that way is putting it in the back of my mind on a primal level. Would you mind slackening your shoulders a little?" She takes a breath, but her posture doesn't change. "Talk." I reminded her about the composition of the group, and then I said, "so I told both you and Tsuruga about the Blacklist. I told you the price to get in was to take each other out." "I didn't know he was after me." "And he didn't know you were after him. See? Fair fight." "You would have been willing to bring me all the way from Japan just to get choked out by some freak?" She gets really, really into my personal space here. "That's not how friends treat friends." I look at her and blink my eyes a couple of times. Another deep breath. I resign myself to the incense being wasted, and I kick out from the sofa and stand. "If one of my friends... say, Chelsea Pryce... had gotten wind of this project in advance of our debut and asked for a place inside of it... I would have said yes. And then I would have asked to meet me somewhere isolated." I move forward, which walks Rei backwards a few steps. "And with the two of us, alone, I would have beaten her to within an inch of her life. I would have held her down and - right here," I touch my hairline, "I would have peeled a nice long slice of skin off of her face for being so arrogant as to think she had a place here. I imagine that might have complicated things between me and Darling, so I'm glad she didn't. The Blacklist isn't going to be about who I like, or who likes me. This isn't Sedition Rising. We are going to enforce certain minimum standards. You met them. So how about a little less growling and a little more gratitude?" Long pause. We've been together for a week and we're already arguing. "I'm glad to hear that. Really glad, considering I've got a playdate with your buddy Q this week." Blacklist propaganda aside, I have pretty much no faith in Q winning the match against Rei, and I've got even less faith in Q leaving uninjured if she feels like sending the locker room a message. Or sending me a message. And given my, uh... history with him, I wonder if she's sure where my own loyalties are. "Do what you will, Rei." "I plan to." I watch her as she goes out, and I don't realize until the door shuts that I've been holding my breath. I start to sit back down again, and the door opens. It's Rei again. "Almost forgot, you got a note." "I can tell from here that's it's been opened, you know." "Your problems are my problems," she says, and I take her at face value. "Is it from A-" "No, it's not from her." She hands it to me and I look it over. "If it's bothering you, I'll take care of it." "Me? Bothered? I'm not bothered." I feel this weird sensation, like I can feel my own blood pulsing through me, and I bite the inside of my lip. "I'm excited if anything. But..." "But?" "I need to book a flight first." .::. pain is the worst kind of fear .::. Let's start these festivities by telling everyone who lives in Detroit not to bother with buying this Pay-Per-View. Don't spend your money on tickets to see Retribution in person. Don't give a cent to your cable or satellite provider. Steal this broadcast. Justin.tv and p2p4u.net will probably be streaming it live. Not to mention these cool things called "torrents". Ask your kids.
If you live in Detroit, Michigan, you should be spending your money on rent or spam. If you actually have the extra money to toss around (and it's Detroit, so you don't), you should spend it on something entertaining, something that's unpredictable, something that gives you hope. Because you won't find any of that at Retribution, TGW's first show on the road, LIVE from the most destitute hellhole America has to offer. I don't even know why we're here - if it's a budget thing, Mexico's a bus ride away. And if AJ Adams got the runs down there, well - he'd know how it feels to watch AJ Adams in action.
By the way, speaking of the current TGW Champion - I'm insulted. Not at the fact that ninety percent of what I said went over your head. Most of the ideas I discussed are things you only think about when you win a lot, so it's no surprise to me that you tapped out for most of it. But... was widdle AJ trwying a widdle mindgame wast week? The whole "Darling is the leader, and I'm the lackey, and the Blacklist wouldn't exist without him" thing... am I supposed to go "No, no, the Blacklist was my idea and Darling is MY lackey", and then Darling goes "I'm nobody's lackey, you two bitches are sluts", and me and Reina start bobbing our heads and wagging our fingers, and then you and the rest of the Cretin Club gives a slow motion high five and talks about the value of teamwork?
Do you have that little respect for us? It sounds like you got your sense of strategy from the same place you get your sense of morality: lame Saturday morning cartoon shows. Wisen up, AJ. You aren't Spiderman, and your friends are decidedly less than amazing. While you're focusing on that epic showdown with Darling, don't be surprised if a couple of cracks show up the next time they X-Ray that empty skull of yours.
A little present, courtesy me.
We're all smart enough to know who should be listened to when, and kicking Micheal Hyde in the teeth isn't exactly something that requires a hierarchal chain of command. This isn't the army.
I've been thinking about that, too. This guy Ben Sklaver got killed in Afghanistan a couple of weeks ago - he founded a non profit after seeing people die for lack of drinking water in Africa. And while there's something a bit sad about dying for a country, I think there's something contemptible about dying for a brand. And let's not kid ourselves, that's what TGW is: a few letters and colors and buzzwords made to get the right response from the right demographic. Opposing The Blacklist -
Wait. I need to speak slowly so that everybody from Alyson Starr up absorbs this.
Standing in our way... standing in front of a camera and puffing out your little chests and turning up your noses and telling a worldwide audience things they don't believe, things you don't believe and things we can't be bothered to take seriously, putting your livelihood... your life at risk for the sake of TGW... is like dying for Burger King or Kleenex. TGW is just a place, like hundreds of other places exactly like it, made unique only because of people like Morgan and Darling and myself. That's why it's better to be an evolved thinking human being, to take what you want while it's dangling in front of you, then it is to get pinned to the floor with a pair of your natural betters grinding the little bones in the back of your neck through the front of your throat because being an anonymous casualty appealed to your sense of self righteousness.
Nine months from now, when Jack's dropped Shane Magnus from a very high place and AJ Adams has fucked off to wherever Ja-Gi went after getting squashed for the eighth time and Blazenwing is putzing around the midcard with all the other hyped up debuts brought in to stop us and promptly humbled, Wade may well decide that TGW is a stupid name for a wrestling company. Maybe "The Blacklist" is written on all of your checks by then. Change is constant, like that old brainbuster about the ship that changes a piece every time it gets to a new port. The TGW Shane Magnus is fighting for right now is going to be very different from the TGW you're going to be seeing by next month's big Pay-Per-View event.
And the TGW you're seeing right now is a lot different from the TGW you saw on the first Animosity.
That TGW, to be blunt, was worthless.
Watch the three guys Wade Mason shoved into the attic like so many emaciated Jewish refugees (with AJ Adams starring as Anne Frank, shivering and waiting for the gas to come - there's a champion really, really worth looking up to), clogging up the "main event" this Sunday for a reminder of those bad old days. Watch Franchise blabber about football and his "A Game" and how he's big and black. Watch David Motherfucking Blazenwing tell us how losing to Shane Magnus and beating on some jobber qualifies him for a title shot, watch AJ Adams' long and awkward slide into irrelevance. While they compete to see who gets to be our main course and who gets relegated to the role of appetizer in the weeks to come, here's what you can look forward to for the rest of the night.
First, Alyson Starr is fighting Evil Wrestling Clown Number I Don't Even Know What Anymore, but I do know that I owned her brother in law, and that her loser husband got destroyed by someone who didn't even make the cut for this group. Aly? Evil Clown? I officially deem you beneath our notice.
Next, and this drives home the point of how lopsided this thing is : Jack Darling, one of the most accomplished men out there, is fighting an inept chump in high socks and capri pants. Look, Sk8er Boi. After Darling has made you swallow a few of your teeth, why don't you pick yourself up and leave. There's literally nothing here for you but more beatings. Do you really want me and Reina to pass you around like a drunk teenybopper at an AFI show? Of course you don't. Pack it in before you get injured, or, more tragically... we get a little bored.
Q had a match with Russell Franchise. Five minutes later, Russell Franchise was still alive. And now he gets fed to Reina Morgan, who's twice as fast as he is, twice as skilled, and three times as nasty. Academic.
The only interesting match of the night is this one. Because we'll be two and oh, and the entire TGW locker room, the entire fanbase of this company, will be looking to you to bring balance, to make things fair, to provide a little hope. You'll fail. I know it, and deep down, you do too. It's just a matter of when. And why not start that tonight? It's something I've waited on for a while. I've wanted to crack your head open like a raw egg and scramble you on the canvas since the first time I saw you smirking into a camera, lecturing people you'd never met about "the right side of things". Not to mention that stupid catchphrase of yours. First, who uses those in 2009, anyway? The list is pretty much you and your man-crush Scott Free, who's taking it in the bum from the ghost of Billy Mays in hell as we speak, deciding if Chipotle-way is right for him.
What a sterling example to follow there.
Nobody wants to feel like they're under control. Like they're subservient to a higher authority. Says the Army veteran. Say, have you ever had... a motherfucking job? I'm not a stranger to it. I'm not going to get into some big pissing match about NFW versus eWo, the checks cleared from both places and nobody cares that much. But NFW's been kicking since Summer 2000 and is still kicking long after Cody Clark sold his place for the twelfth time - so keep your fucking condescension to yourself, thanks. It's the same both places. Someone a rung above you says "jump", and you do it. They say "drop and give me fifty", and you hit the floor. And after a lot of pushups... I can bench a little more, but I'm a little worn out with it. It sucks to flip burgers. It sucks to be front line infantry. It sucks to be Shane Magnus. But that's the natural order of things.
Shouldn't a guy who calls himself The System know that better than anyone else? Sure, you might feel the need to enforce your newfound ethics on others and live your life on the straight and narrow on your path to a less repulsive you, but all of us aren't trying to enforce our deep dislike of ourselves through passing judgement on others. I've always lived by a different ethic. I always searched for my own fulfillment, Shane, and I never followed a system of my own making or anyone else's. I never disciplined myself. I never stagnated. I embraced the impossible. And I'm better for it, because it means I understand you a lot better than you understand me.
I can put myself in your shoes. Rallying the troops. Trying to convince David "Motherfucking" Blazenwing that he isn't a third rate slackwit with a wet noodle where his spine should be. And it makes my stomach ache with laughter. Pumping yourself up, grunting into the camera about a one man war against three people that are infinitely scarier than you are, knowing deep down that it's futile. You aren't Superman, Shane. You're not even a decent man. You're just another emotionally insecure meat shield who's getting an asskicking every week because you're afraid to place one abstract concept (yourself) above another one (the alphabet soup in this little spoon).
Any illusions of heroism you might get will be firmly planted in the mud when we leave Detroit with this entire roster in the wake. You need the rest of the other company to stand up and create that impression of momentum, to inspire the proles. One weak link in the chain ruins everything, and you - you're a weak link in a chain full of even weaker links. That chain is creaking already. How long until it snaps?
Not very.
You should worry less about the emotional stress of your own inferiority and worry more about leaving Detroit with your dignity. You should worry less about me in my underwear for some magazine and worry more about keeping yourself off the cover of next month's issue of "Total Fucking Agony". And you shouldn't worry about whether I can beat the system.
I've beaten every system that I've ever had placed in front of me.
I don't see you being any different.
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