Post by Teo Blaze on Jul 10, 2016 13:06:12 GMT -5
The viewer is greeted by a swirl of navy blue interlaced with a countless number of white stars. The clear blue night sky bathed in soft moonlight over a sandy horizon. The full moon offers a tremendous backlight to what would otherwise be an entirely blackened city, shining so brightly that it could almost be daytime.
And as the camera pans down towards the ground, certain sights become clearer.
More familiar.
Though the night has robbed them of activity, though a blanket of silence has fallen over the sleepy town, the images are unmistakable.
A cantina, positioned on the corner, the tan blocks of the sidewalk wrapping around it like a snake.
A convenience store, the iron grating that slides down lowered halfheartedly, the store owner no doubt convinced that no one in the town is a threat to his livelihood.
But by far the most prominent building is in the dead center of the town. No city hall, no mayor’s office, just a large sign prominently displaying a Luchador mask ringed by a pointed yellow sun.
El Gimnasio del Sol.
The bastion of goodness, of caring. Charity and kindness. The place that had transformed the city from a desperate border town to one of the most prominent and famous cities of the region.
And now it sat, doors locked. A “Closed” sign hung on the front of the door.
On this quiet Mexico night, a pair of faces stand, looking at that sign for the first time in a long time.
One, a gaunt but confident young man. His short hair and clean suit give him an air of professionalism that is unspoken yet obvious. He stands, hands in pockets, offering a moment of silence for the great building, the look on his face a combination of regret and confusion.
The other man’s posture is far different. He sits down on the sand, one knee up, arm resting on it. In his other arm he holds a shotglass of amber liquid, no doubt from the bottle placed carefully next to him. His left hand holds the liquid, wrist slowly turning, swirling the liquid about in the bottom of the glass as he stares at the building. His face is completely emotionless, hidden behind red lenses, yet it is clear he is locked deep in thought.
The two men stare at the sign for a few moments longer, before the one on the left breaks the silence.
Spencer Adams: I had no idea things had gotten this bad, Teo.
The man on the sand offers a chuckle, grabbing the bottle from the sand and refiling his glass as he speaks.
Teddy Blaze: Like you care. You were so quick to run to Japan that you didn’t even have time to stop by.
He throws back the freshly poured shot, emptying the glass in one swallow. He turns and offers the bottle to his companion, who waves it off.
Teddy Blaze: After Mexico city…the checks stopped coming in. WCF couldn’t pay the terms that they had agreed on. I had other offers, sure, but I wanted to be loyal. I was the WCF People’s Champion.
Am. The WCF People’s Champion.
I am the greatest People’s Champion, that’s what they say. How could someone like that, how could someone like me walk away from everything that WCF had given me?
But it was pointless. My bank accounts were drained trying to keep the lights on, to pay the trainers. We were open for barely a month before the bills started to be too much. I’ve never been in it for the money, Spencer, but things like this? They’re not free.
Blaze looks at the amber bottle, then tossing the glass aside, takes another large swig directly from the bottle.
Spencer Adams: Why didn’t you ask me for help? I could have given you a loan, gotten you an endorsement?
Blaze lets a hardy laugh out from the bottom of his belly.
Teddy Blaze: Come on man, have I ever been the type to take charity?
Blaze lets out a sigh as the two stare at the closed gymnasium.
Teddy Blaze: I failed them Spencer. I failed my mask. I failed everyone who was counting on me. I wanted to be the glue that could hold this whole story together.
I wanted to be the constant, the good guy.
And look where it got me.
I’ve never gotten a main event.
I’ve never gotten to be on the PPV posters.
I even had to go on first at ONE.
I’ve broken every record that one could break in a reign with this belt, but do you think anyone is going to remember Teo del Sol?
I’m not going to be a legend. A hall of famer.
Just the answer to a trivia question.
Just the guy who made everyone happy for a little while.
Spencer puts his hand on his partner’s shoulder, the alcohol starting to make its way into his words as he talks.
Teo: Spencer, I just wanted to do something great, to bring prestige back to the People’s Championship. And now it’s going to drive a wedge between us. Either you come in and you get the world title shot that I’ve never gotten, or else I push you out of the picture at the last minute.
Spencer chuckles to himself as Teo talks.
Spencer: We could always throw the match.
Teo lets out a laugh from the pit of his stomach.
Teo: As if! There is absolutely no way that we are going to lose this week. Now don’t get me wrong, Bates is a genuine threat. I’ve partnered with the man, and he is capable of great things.
Capable being the key word.
I don’t dislike Thomas, but he reeks of wasted potential. Every single story about Thomas Bates is a story of failure. He won the US title by losing in Ultimate Showdown, never actually pinning anyone in the match. Then he proceeded to lose the belt to David Sanchez, thanks for that Thomas by the way, and then he lost his world Title Shot to Dune.
Then to line up matters worse than that, he was pinned by Pantheon less than 2 months later to lose the Trios Championship. A Trios Championship that we won from Pantheon in under 30 seconds, I might add.
Thomas Bates has been in a freefall and he knows it. He has been struggling to stay relevant since that Trios tournament win and acts like he deserves something because his father was a wrestler. He’s a worse daddy’s boy than Jared Holmes, if you can believe it, but I’m not going to hold that against him. After all, it’s mighty cold in that shadow.
But Thomas Bates is not the reason that his team is going to lose. Despite his absolute tendency to choke on anything larger than a chicken wing, he is also teaming with the Baron. A man who give identity crisis a meaning far more confusing than it implies.
This is a man who decided that he wanted to make an entrance with some kind of oomph, with grandeur.
Then proceeded to get himself tossed over the ropes in a battle royal and fail to pick up a win the week after that.
I don’t want to come across as cruel, but the Baron is ZERO threat to you or me, Spencer. He has as much of a shot as walking out of this one with his first victory as this gym has of reopening.
Spencer chuckles.
Spencer: Teo, you’re drunk. And you’re not used to it.
Teo: I can’t be drunk! I have a fire in me! It would blow up the alchohol!
It doesn’t matter anyway, Man. We’re going up against the Baron after all! I could show up drunk, stoned, recently assaulted by a crazy man with a steel pipe, both my legs broken, a harpoon actively sticking through my chest, and a hangnail, and I would still pin the baron before I managed to bleed out.
The dude is tenacious, but he’s a curtain jerker that broke into Rob Zombie’s make-up trailer. He’s a fish out of water thrust into a match he has no business being in, and the only reason that I’m not going to expose him this week is because there is NOTHING to expose.
He’s a loser.
And after this match, he’s going to still be a loser.
Better than moving down, eh?
Teo dumps out the remaining liquid with a loud belch.
Teo: Spencer, it’s going to be a lot of fun teaming with you again. Thank you for coming back, I missed you.
As Teo speaks, his eyes begin to roll in his head and he collapses against his tag team partner’s leg, fast asleep.
Spencer looks one more time at the sign with a dejected sigh.
Spencer Adams: yeah Teo, I missed you too buddy.
And as the camera pans down towards the ground, certain sights become clearer.
More familiar.
Though the night has robbed them of activity, though a blanket of silence has fallen over the sleepy town, the images are unmistakable.
A cantina, positioned on the corner, the tan blocks of the sidewalk wrapping around it like a snake.
A convenience store, the iron grating that slides down lowered halfheartedly, the store owner no doubt convinced that no one in the town is a threat to his livelihood.
But by far the most prominent building is in the dead center of the town. No city hall, no mayor’s office, just a large sign prominently displaying a Luchador mask ringed by a pointed yellow sun.
El Gimnasio del Sol.
The bastion of goodness, of caring. Charity and kindness. The place that had transformed the city from a desperate border town to one of the most prominent and famous cities of the region.
And now it sat, doors locked. A “Closed” sign hung on the front of the door.
On this quiet Mexico night, a pair of faces stand, looking at that sign for the first time in a long time.
One, a gaunt but confident young man. His short hair and clean suit give him an air of professionalism that is unspoken yet obvious. He stands, hands in pockets, offering a moment of silence for the great building, the look on his face a combination of regret and confusion.
The other man’s posture is far different. He sits down on the sand, one knee up, arm resting on it. In his other arm he holds a shotglass of amber liquid, no doubt from the bottle placed carefully next to him. His left hand holds the liquid, wrist slowly turning, swirling the liquid about in the bottom of the glass as he stares at the building. His face is completely emotionless, hidden behind red lenses, yet it is clear he is locked deep in thought.
The two men stare at the sign for a few moments longer, before the one on the left breaks the silence.
Spencer Adams: I had no idea things had gotten this bad, Teo.
The man on the sand offers a chuckle, grabbing the bottle from the sand and refiling his glass as he speaks.
Teddy Blaze: Like you care. You were so quick to run to Japan that you didn’t even have time to stop by.
He throws back the freshly poured shot, emptying the glass in one swallow. He turns and offers the bottle to his companion, who waves it off.
Teddy Blaze: After Mexico city…the checks stopped coming in. WCF couldn’t pay the terms that they had agreed on. I had other offers, sure, but I wanted to be loyal. I was the WCF People’s Champion.
Am. The WCF People’s Champion.
I am the greatest People’s Champion, that’s what they say. How could someone like that, how could someone like me walk away from everything that WCF had given me?
But it was pointless. My bank accounts were drained trying to keep the lights on, to pay the trainers. We were open for barely a month before the bills started to be too much. I’ve never been in it for the money, Spencer, but things like this? They’re not free.
Blaze looks at the amber bottle, then tossing the glass aside, takes another large swig directly from the bottle.
Spencer Adams: Why didn’t you ask me for help? I could have given you a loan, gotten you an endorsement?
Blaze lets a hardy laugh out from the bottom of his belly.
Teddy Blaze: Come on man, have I ever been the type to take charity?
Blaze lets out a sigh as the two stare at the closed gymnasium.
Teddy Blaze: I failed them Spencer. I failed my mask. I failed everyone who was counting on me. I wanted to be the glue that could hold this whole story together.
I wanted to be the constant, the good guy.
And look where it got me.
I’ve never gotten a main event.
I’ve never gotten to be on the PPV posters.
I even had to go on first at ONE.
I’ve broken every record that one could break in a reign with this belt, but do you think anyone is going to remember Teo del Sol?
I’m not going to be a legend. A hall of famer.
Just the answer to a trivia question.
Just the guy who made everyone happy for a little while.
Spencer puts his hand on his partner’s shoulder, the alcohol starting to make its way into his words as he talks.
Teo: Spencer, I just wanted to do something great, to bring prestige back to the People’s Championship. And now it’s going to drive a wedge between us. Either you come in and you get the world title shot that I’ve never gotten, or else I push you out of the picture at the last minute.
Spencer chuckles to himself as Teo talks.
Spencer: We could always throw the match.
Teo lets out a laugh from the pit of his stomach.
Teo: As if! There is absolutely no way that we are going to lose this week. Now don’t get me wrong, Bates is a genuine threat. I’ve partnered with the man, and he is capable of great things.
Capable being the key word.
I don’t dislike Thomas, but he reeks of wasted potential. Every single story about Thomas Bates is a story of failure. He won the US title by losing in Ultimate Showdown, never actually pinning anyone in the match. Then he proceeded to lose the belt to David Sanchez, thanks for that Thomas by the way, and then he lost his world Title Shot to Dune.
Then to line up matters worse than that, he was pinned by Pantheon less than 2 months later to lose the Trios Championship. A Trios Championship that we won from Pantheon in under 30 seconds, I might add.
Thomas Bates has been in a freefall and he knows it. He has been struggling to stay relevant since that Trios tournament win and acts like he deserves something because his father was a wrestler. He’s a worse daddy’s boy than Jared Holmes, if you can believe it, but I’m not going to hold that against him. After all, it’s mighty cold in that shadow.
But Thomas Bates is not the reason that his team is going to lose. Despite his absolute tendency to choke on anything larger than a chicken wing, he is also teaming with the Baron. A man who give identity crisis a meaning far more confusing than it implies.
This is a man who decided that he wanted to make an entrance with some kind of oomph, with grandeur.
Then proceeded to get himself tossed over the ropes in a battle royal and fail to pick up a win the week after that.
I don’t want to come across as cruel, but the Baron is ZERO threat to you or me, Spencer. He has as much of a shot as walking out of this one with his first victory as this gym has of reopening.
Spencer chuckles.
Spencer: Teo, you’re drunk. And you’re not used to it.
Teo: I can’t be drunk! I have a fire in me! It would blow up the alchohol!
It doesn’t matter anyway, Man. We’re going up against the Baron after all! I could show up drunk, stoned, recently assaulted by a crazy man with a steel pipe, both my legs broken, a harpoon actively sticking through my chest, and a hangnail, and I would still pin the baron before I managed to bleed out.
The dude is tenacious, but he’s a curtain jerker that broke into Rob Zombie’s make-up trailer. He’s a fish out of water thrust into a match he has no business being in, and the only reason that I’m not going to expose him this week is because there is NOTHING to expose.
He’s a loser.
And after this match, he’s going to still be a loser.
Better than moving down, eh?
Teo dumps out the remaining liquid with a loud belch.
Teo: Spencer, it’s going to be a lot of fun teaming with you again. Thank you for coming back, I missed you.
As Teo speaks, his eyes begin to roll in his head and he collapses against his tag team partner’s leg, fast asleep.
Spencer looks one more time at the sign with a dejected sigh.
Spencer Adams: yeah Teo, I missed you too buddy.
