Post by "Iron Heart" Ethan King on Apr 9, 2016 22:32:48 GMT -5
Just a step away.
Just a moment.
One, solitary, single second.
That's all it took, that's all that stood between getting back into the ring, and potentially showing up the biggest stable in WCF, but we let it slip.
Rather, I let it slip.
Yeah, go figure, right? The guy people think might be the 'MVP' of a stable already breaking down, due to a Griffin that's gone MIA, let's down one of the only people that ever gave him a chance, by eating that elbow and dropping down without an ounce of fight left in me, I let the biggest opportunity in my life fade away into nothing, just like that.
Quicker than the ten-count that sent my morale plummeting, I threw away our chance, our hope of making a bigger impact then just being the "twitter patrol" of the WCF.
Fuck me.
It's been a day since the big night, since the day I failed to capitalize, since the day I saw a mirror shatter and a wall come tumbling down. My legs fumble before me and send me staggering into my dorm room, occupied currently only by the short figure of Miguel Myles, who seems far more interested in the set of papers in front of him, rather than the shambling mess of a man boy that's stumbling wildly behind him. I sway uncertainly, before attempting to steady myself, feet planting against the woollen carpet beneath me as I try in vain to stand on a vertical base without crashing pathetically.
Thankfully enough, I feel a pair of hands grasp down over my shoulders, balancing out my exhausted being, the iron-like hold remains strapped over me momentarily, until the set of hands clap down over my shoulders once, twice, three times, in the most encouraging way possible. My head cranks to the side to catch a glimpse of my tag partner and fellow Pride comrade, Eddie Felt, and what appears to be a encouraging grin.
But even I know better than to believe that smile, for I carried the same one on my face ever since I reached the locker room, ever since I told everyone that was worried about me that it would "be okay" and that "we'd get 'em next time."
But let's be real, fuck that shit. That's not how REALity works, now does it? There isn't going to be a next time, there isn't going to be a moment where we get another opportunity like this after beating a bunch of bonafide scrubs one week, and then a handicap the next. We were going to have to work our way up, and I already knew what that meant.
The whole world, witnessing every single one of my flaws. I could see it now, they'd notice that not every strike I threw was pinpoint accurate, how for every time I attempted to build up the crowd, I was sweating and nervous on the inside, or how my slams and grapples were limp-wristed and weak in comparison to all the other sharks monsters that resided in the WCF ring on a weekly basis.
They'd see me for what I truly was, a little mouse trying to escape from the predetermined fate he was given, a flightless bird attempting to soar into the skies and one day, reach the sun.
Another average guy, trying to be something that he clearly wasn't.
A hero.
Funny how that works though, because just like every other hero in history, I'm going to fall. It was a great ride though, for about a week we were considered the hottest things on the fucking block, we were predicted to roll through the competition and carry forward into the Trios Cup, to reach greatness and solidify ourselves as some of the top competition around, but what have we really accomplished.
Z-Mac done killed Griffin Griffin scraped by with a DQ win over Zombie McMorris.
We beat three guys that get a win maybe once a year, at best.
And we beat a guy in a handicap match, by count-out.
Then what?
We faced two guys that we knew had what it took to hit the top, with some work, at least. But we thought we could take them, we thought we could toward the middle-lower area of the #BeachKrew totem pole and take them out, one by one, piece by piece, until there was literally nothing left. But once again, that's not how REALity works.
It's a lot harsher than that, and apparently I wasn't someone who knows how to deal with that, considering the state I'm in now. At this point, I don't even know if I'm awake anymore, I must've said something aloud to the guys, because they don't seem to be bothering with me, even though I'm just standing here and doing nothing. Eddie's already gone, moved forward, that plastic smile he once wore now dropped, and just like that's he gone, out of the room, leaving me alone with Miguel.
I take a quick glance at him, it's still as if he hasn't noticed me, as if he knows that I'm not in the talking mood, like he realizes that this wasn't how things were meant to go down. Because in all honesty? It wasn't, eating a loss this early into our run was never discussed, it was never thought upon as a possibility. Call it arrogance? Maybe. Or, we just weren't prepared for the opportunities we were going to receive so quick, so early.
Sighing heavily, I tear my eyes away from Miguel to catch a glimpse of my bed, which seems to be longing for me at this point, or is it the other way around? Shaking my head, I begin shuffling my feet across the carpet, towards the small entrance leading into my equally miniscule bedroom, littered with all sorts of rubbish and random assortments of school work and personal belongings, a testament to how engaged I was with all this wrestling stuff.
As I began to enter into my 'quarters', I heard a voice cut through the silence.
Miguel Myles: You did well man, don't beat yourself up over it.
Rather than say anything, I simply nodded, and headed off to sleep.
"Let me guess what half of you non-believers are thinking at this point. (See that, Beaver? I can throw out them 'believes' as well, you aren't original in the slightest.) You're probably looking at The Pride right now and thinking that this shits over, that all the work and hyping up we put into getting ready for our big debut wasn't worth it, that now we're fading away into obscurity just like all the haters predicted, just like all the guys puffing out there chest and acting snarky as fuck (yeah, Dag. Looking at you bud) are grinning right now, creaming there pants as they realize that they were 'right all along.'
That The Pride aren't shit, that they weren't ever going to make it here, that they shouldn't have been talking all that shit because eventually, or even sooner than that, they were going to get beat and made the laughing stock of the WCF, that they would hit rock-bottom and never manage to pick themselves back up, that we'd run into the federation with a chip on our shoulders, but get all that hype and excitement knocked out of us the moment we ate a loss.
Why don't we get some of the obvious shit out of the way first.
The Pride don't back down, and The Pride certainly don't give a fuck about some count-out loss handed to us by some of the biggest bitches in the federation, and wait, before all of you step up and say shit like...
"Oh! But Ethan! You lost to them, you lost to #BlackBeaver and now you're calling them bitches!"
One win after hundreds of losses (in the case of Andre) or hundreds of excuses (in the case of Beavs) doesn't suddenly make you a respectable figure, it doesn't suddenly mean that you're the best and are going to steamroll through that tag team division, because in all honesty? These guys could step up to Rebellution, the could...
And then they'd get there teeth kicked straight down their fucking throats.
What? You thought there'd be any different result? These are the same guys that looked at The Pride and immediately saw these guys as prey, but then couldn't even put them away. They take the easy way out and then go to bragging about that shit, like Kyle Kemp going on and on about how he "beat" Dune, when in reality that guy would've got #murkt had he ever stepped to him without some type of advantage.
#BlackBeaver are probably sitting there with smug little grins on their faces, thinking they got one-up on your boys, that they've hit the pinnacle of greatness and are about to, like I said, grab those tag straps and make a run with them, bring another championship back to #BeachKrew, along with the rest of their boys who are making runs at the World Title, and the like.
But that's not how this shit goes down, that's not how the story ends, that's now what we're going to let happen. These guys think they can get a free shot at some belts, just because they managed to win the "biggest pussy" award and keep us locked out of that ring. You see the desperation in there eyes, as they tried to keep us from hopping back in that ring and giving them the beatdown they deserved? Nah, I bet you didn't. You're all caught up on the fact that these guys managed to beat us.
Yep, it's a fucking miracle. Andre Aquarius finally managed to become an actual 'winner' guys, after months and months of pent up frustration, he finally managed to pull out a W, he squeezed through and finally made that big dream come true, one that he had spent all his life gunning for but never really managed to meet it, because that's how Andre Aquarius rolls.
He fails, time and time again, but the moment he does something good? He's screaming it to the world, he's shouting out about how he's a winner, about how he's got everything going for him, about how he's going to do one thing or another, fuck some people up, you know what I mean?
Then you take a closer look, and realize that this guys just another fuckwit who doesn't know what he's talking about, a delusional motherfucker who reckons he's got what it takes to reach the top, but can't even pull out a proper win against respectable competition.
Oh shit, you beat The Pride by countout?
Congratu-fucking-lations, now what's going to happen next?
Answer: You get your shit kicked in at Slam Three-Fifty.
At least, that's what we're hoping happens. Knowing you guys, there'll be one thing or another that you got going for you. Why don't you bring down your entire squad to the ring and we'll duke it out, we'll throw down with your entire team. Isn't that all you #BeachKrew guys got going for you, anyway? And I don't mean the guys that have actually proved themselves in one on one situations, I'm talking about Kyle Kemp, I'm talking about Andre Aquarius.
Beaver has the TV Title going for him, but I mean, how did that end up?
Oh right, the fall from grace.
But back to the numbers game shit, without it, what are you Andre? Without you and your weekly beat downs in unsanctioned matches, what would you be?
Answer: A fucking nobody.
Literally, that's the best way I can put it, because you're always just hiding away in the background, getting a few stomps in here and there, big grin on your face as you stand in the ring with a group of guys that are #BetterThanYou.
TV Champs.
Peoples Champ.
World Champs.
Tag Champs.
Seriously, what the fuck are you in this group of all-stars? That's what you guys think you are, right? The best of the best, a group of elites that run train on the federation because they got nobody that can combat them, even though they clearly ignore all the upcoming threats, they try to hit guys like us with all that "you guys can't hang with us" type shit, even though we know the reality is far, far different.
This week? It's No DQ, there's no holds barred, it's about to be an all out war between four of the future greats in this company, but two of us are going to rise faster, soar higher and peak at a greater point than the other two, and that's going to be The Pride. But how can we guarantee that? How do we know you guys aren't going to go down that coward route and call down all your boys, hoping and praying that you can finally get a clean victory over two guys that you could never beat otherwise?
I mean, Seth's put you into a tough spot, guys. You thought it was hard enough putting the two of us away last time, then what's going to go down this time around? There's no count outs to save you, there's no desperate moves that'll allow you to run away from the beating you've earned.
But don't get me wrong, you guys still have a chance. Honestly, there's nothing stopping you from taking this one and picking up even more momentum on the road to your tag title shot, you have just as much a chance as we do, but how much is it going to cost you? How much are you willing to put in, because in your eyes, this doesn't mean shit, now does it? This is just another match, you're just coming up against a couple of dudes that you've already beaten once before, why should they be given another chance?
You guys going to become complacent, you are you going to prove that you actually deserve the shot you weaselled you way into?
I could go on about this count-out shit all day, I could go on about how Andre's probably giggling like a little girl now that his wildest dream has become a reality and he's now the winner he's always known he was, or how Beaver's looking at everyone expectantly, waiting for the world to bow down at his feet and announce that they truly do believe in him and everything he stands for.
And guess what?
I am.
Because these guy are one-dimensional fucks that have nothing except their crew of equally annoying, but far more talented friends, without them, they lose even that one dimension. For Andre and Dustin, it's all fun and games, it's all just beating up those #FUCCBOIS on the daily and crushing their dreams.
What else is there to these guys? Besides the obvious superiority complex that Dustin's got going on?
Actually, let's delve into that a little bit.
Dustin's the type of guy that requires validation to operate on a daily basis, he's that one dude in the group who acts all cool, calm and collected, but on the inside is a mess. Every day, he goes through that eternal turmoil, as he realizes that one day, he might just not be good enough to prove himself to the outside world. Even though he acts like everyone else needs to prove something to HIM, it actually works the other way around.
Little Dustin, this is what you've become.
The kid of the group, looking for all the attention, pandering to the higher-ups in that #BeachKrew hierarchy and begging for acceptance, for somebody like Wade Moor to look upon him with a smile and tell him that he did well, that he did exactly what he had hoped for, that he had achieved something in life.
But who the fuck has Dustin impressed, in all seriousness?
His own tag partner acts like a fucking caricature of himself whenever he's around, while Dustin tries to appeal to him.
"Oh shit dude, are we going to destroy these white #fuccbois at Explosion or what?"
And at this point, Andre's probably looking at his pasty white ass and thinking what the fuck is this guy on about, but he goes completely out of his way to try and make this guy feel better about himself. He gives him a fist bump and agrees, because this is a hype train, right? Nothing can stop it, not even the useless sack of shit known as 'Dustin Beaver' that he's got cramping his style, embarrassing in front of all of his friends.
And I mean, let's not even mention that this guys first fucking talking point was literally "you guys copy #BeachKrew".
Really, Dustin?
Way to go man, not only did you prove you're as unoriginal as everybody knows you are, but you even heard me predict that you were going to say that shit, and yet still went ahead with it.
Damn man, nice work, showing everyone why they should be believing in you, and not someone that isn't completely fucking delusional. #BeachKrew Lite, really? So what does that make you, then, Dustin? Since you were the guy literally admitting that you were jealous of these guys ever since you came into the federation, what were you back then?
Oh right, a #BeachKrew wannabe, and now what are you?
Oh right, still a wannabe, just a different kind. Hey, even when you first came into the federation, before you got erect every time you saw a #BeachKrew dude wrestle, you were basing yourself of a pop star, a sensation more famous than you will ever be. How does that feel?
How does it feel knowing that you're always going to be hiding away in a shadow that looms over you for eternity, because you don't got what it takes to break out and create your own brand, spread your own fame and win your own glory and fanbase? Nope, that's not the Dustin Beaver way. Let's just tag along with a pack of guys that are better than me and pray to god that they take me to the promised land, because everybody knows that I can't fucking do it.
You're a quitter, Dustin. What's going to happen when #BeachKrew starts to fall, what's going to happen when one guy leaves, and then another, and then you're one of the last remaining people on the sinking ship that's going to for once in its existence, be the prey instead of the predators?
You're going to abandon ship like the bitch you are, you couldn't bear falling down with the rest of them, you'd find something else to latch onto. How in the fuck can you guys sit there and try to call out Occulo on riding the coattails of Flash and Dune, when you've got this #FUCCBOI right here? (Oh damn, look at me go, using your own slang. Please, hit me with another "oh, you're copying us" line that got tired the first time it got used.)
Dustin Beaver, a wannabe megastar who would've never made it if it weren't for all his boys backing him up, giving him that motivation, even though they cringe whenever they here this guy try and work a fucking mic, because it's become painfully obvious this guy doesn't know what in the world he's doing. He steps up before a crowd and tries to get them to #Beavlieve, but fails miserably. There could be a sign lighting up saying "Please Applaud" or "Please Cheer" and the crowd would still boo the shit out of this guy, because he's a despicable piece of shit without an ounce of originality or talent.
See, Dustin? I can call you out on being unoriginal too, except I do it better and make points that have far more meaning then just sitting there and crying, whining about how we're just another version of #BeachKrew, even though you've got nothing that backs that shit up, except saying "OOHHH you guys go to college? You MUST be trying to be us, then!"
Do you ever listen to yourself, or do you just throw a bunch of checkers at a chess board and hope that you're making some sort of meaningful impact? Because that's basically you in the WCF, you go from match to match, trying your hardest to do something important, but as always, you end up taking a back seat to the powers above you. Holmes, Rabid, Wade, Gable, even Andre somehow manages to overshadow you.
In a group that is half-filled with idiots, you're the stupidest.
In a group that is half-filled with talents, you don't even fit into the category.
In a group that's at the top in terms of relevance, you're the least relevant of them all.
In a world of megastars, pop sensations, fame, and glory, you consistently fail to hit the mark. Over, and over, and over again. You've never been on point, you've never hit the level you've wanted to, you're just a fucking failure.
And that's harsh, I know. And it doesn't mean you can't pick yourself up and become something respectable and important, but it's the cold, hard truth, my man.
As much as you try to puff out your chest and tell the world you're something special, you're not. As much as you want everyone to believe, you've got nobody but yourself listening to your pleas.
So, what's the future got in store for you, dude? How're you going to come on out of this recent slump you've been in, the slope you've been slipping down ever since you dropped that TV Title and became the desperate fuck in front of us today?
Well, this is it, isn't it? This is your match to win, this is everything to you. Even if you might not see it that way, because at Explosion, you proved nothing.
You didn't show the world that you're worth the praise you think you deserve, you just came up against some new guys and barely scraped by, you did the bare minimum and thought it would be enough, but now you're being put to the test once again. This is your opportunity, your moment, to silence all the doubters and critics, to rise above all the hate you've been getting and teach these new guys a lesson.
Right?
That's what's meant to be going down this week, right? I'm sure that's what you've got planned, even though you know you couldn't get the job done at Explosion, you've forced yourself to believe in this.
This idea that says you can do whatever you want, even when you don't put the work in, even when you're just cruising through, down talking all the guys that have put in more effort than you ever have, and ever will.
You want to believe that your natural talent just makes up for everything else, but you don't got the intangibles, you don't have the heart, you don't have the passion, you're just a pumped up little fuck who thinks he has it all.
But yeah, let's put all our faith in believe in this guy, everyone. Let's look at our shining beacon of hope in Dustin Beaver, the epitome of greatness, the apex of ability, the future king and ruler of the WCF, along with the rest of his squad that actually fucking despise him, but tolerate him because he seems to fit the #BeachKrew mould.
Isn't that what this all is? They saw a cocky, brash guy like Dustin Beaver, with a stupid gimmick and an equally stupid personality, and immediately saw this guy as someone that'd fit in with the rest of the Krew, someone that would be able to represent them, until they realize that this guy is just a fucking tool. Straight up.
How do you feel, Andre, knowing that this is the guy you've got working with you this week, at arguably the biggest Slam of them all, where you finally get to put it all on the line and prove that you really are the winner you so desperately try and tell everyone you are.
Well? Are you going to step up to the plate, or choke like you do in every other big moment, and become what you despise, but have always been...
A loser?
Look man, I'll be real with you. I believe.
I don't believe in Dustin, but I do think you got what it takes, I think you can rise past all the bullshit you got surrounding you, and that you can break free from the rest of the pack.
I ate that elbow at Explosion, my head still feels a little fucked, if I have to be honest, even though it pains me to admit it. I know you aren't a joke, but it doesn't change anything.
It won't change my game plan at Three-Fifty, it won't stop The Pride from dropping you on your skull, it won't stop The Pride from doing everything in there power to take down the first two pieces of the #BeachKrew legion, that wants to swallow up the WCF whole.
We aren't going to allow that, we aren't going to let this group of smug assholes take over, when they've done nothing to earn it.
Nobody should be permitted to try something like that, to take complete control, and yet here these guys are trying to break the rules, to try and bend everything into their favour.
So what's going to happen, when The Pride rolls through and crashes their party, their ideas and plans that were at once set in stone, but changed the moment their little kids, the #BlackBeaver were ripped apart by two guys that were looked on as nothing more than two average-joes with no potential, two guys that would never amount to anything?
What's going to happen then, Andre?
When your so-called leaders lose their composure and start taking out everything on you, when they start questioning your ability and wondering if you deserve a place in your oh-so prestigious stable, filled to the brim with talent that overshadows you, even when they shouldn't?
I hope for your sake, you don't fall into that hole, where you got your whole squad of 'best friends' looking down upon you with apathy and disgust, in pure disbelief that they ever allowed you to roll with them. Honestly? That's a role that should be reserved for a guy like Dustin, who brings even a stable like #BeachKrew so much fucking shame, they might as well call it quits and anoint this guy the #KingFuccboi of the WCF. (Please, call me out for using your hashtags, please do. It'll make it all the more enjoyable when I show you up, Dustin.)
At Three-Fifty, we're being given an opportunity to make up for our failure at Explosion, we're being given a shot that even we didn't expect, we thought we'd immediately be disregarded, be thrown back down to facing guys like Psycho Dragon, Bad News Benson and the like, but instead, we're here.
We're still hanging with you, #BeachKrew.
We're still here, but you're looking up into the heavens, you're still imagining yourselves as a group of shooting stars, firing off across the sunset, eternally burning and dominating the skies, like you think you're dominating the WCF.
You'll come to a shocking realization, eventually.
It'll all fall."
Man, the lights have never been quiet so bright, the butterflies have never fluttered this nervously before, my feet have never tripped up over themselves quite as much as tonight. Getting my first taste of the night air and realizing that soon enough, I'm going to be getting back in that ring again to try and prove why I deserve to have a place here.
Why I shouldn't just be thrown out like a piece of old garbage, like someone who never truly had a shot.
That's not who I am, is it?
I'm not the guy who put all this work in, just to fade into obscurity and never amount to anything in a business that I had basically put my whole life into?
No, not even basically.
This was always the dream this was always the goal, even if my family never had it in the cards, even though there were only three other people in the world who thought that this was actually a possibility.
Kylie.
Eddie.
Gabriel.
Man, how far we came, until the dream started to get shot down. I haven't seen Gabriel in the past two weeks, he's showed up for whatever matches he's been booked in, but there's a growing worry, a growing fear. I've never been able to catch him, he hasn't shown up to the dorm, let alone campus. After his matches I always try to catch up, but apparently he's just gone.
And Eddie? I don't even know what's going on with him, the dude's got some stuff going on that I know I just can't touch, that I can't help him with, even though we always talk, even though I'm always around and we're hanging out together.
It just doesn't feel like it once did, there's something missing. Is it that competitive drive? I'm not sure, Eddie was never the kind of guy that was all caught up with the wrestling shtick. He was into it, sure. But not as much as me or Gabriel were.
I'm starting to think that I'm losing the both of them, Gabriel's all but gone, and Eddie? There's something bigger going on with him, something that I don't think he's willing to let me in on just yet, and something that even if he did, I wouldn't be able to understand.
There's only one thing to do, I guess. And it's to do what I've always done.
Give it my all, and hope for the best.