Post by PPV on Oct 3, 2020 23:00:32 GMT -5
A woman is climbing Mount Everest.
She has prepared for this moment for all her life.
She has sacrificed everything to get to the top.
On the mountain she is in a very harsh climate - seemingly denying herself the great pleasures of life.
On the great mountain she has no comfort, she has no family, she has no boyfriend, she has no friends, she has no lattes or flatscreen TVs.
On the climb up the mountain she has absolutely nothing that most people in everyday life want to have.
She denies herself all the comforts of the world so that she may climb the mountain.
But is the mountain woman really denying herself anything?
Or…
Is she making another possibility happen?
Climbing to the summit of the greatest mountain in the world is something that ordinary people can never fathom.
They are all willing to settle for little things - cars, phones, sugary junk food, some apparent status in the community.
When these ordinary people see the mountain woman in everyday life, preparing to climb the highest of mountains, these people see only a woman denying herself.
They cannot imagine why you should ever deny yourself immediate pleasures.
To them, the idea of delayed gratification is an alien concept. Denial to them is a horrible crime.
But what they never see is what the seeming denial has given the woman who is on the path to the ultimate.
What they cannot see is that it was not a denial at all.
It was a sacrifice.
The woman gave one thing to get another thing.
Anybody who has created anything great has first denied themselves some simple pleasures of life.
The reason why you deny yourself is because you want to create something.
To create something - to be among those beyond ordinary - your attention must be diverted from the simple pleasures that other people think are valuable.
The concept of sacrifice is something all great religions of the past talk about. But modern man misunderstands the concept of sacrifice.
When we hear about sacrifice we think of sacrificing a chicken to the sun god to make it rain and then the natives do a rain dance.
That is not what sacrifice is.
Sacrifice is the act of giving one thing to get another thing.
In Thailand, the people might sacrifice a refreshing drink to a local spirit so that they may get good luck or not anger the spirit.
The mountain climber will sacrifice her simple pleasures so that she may prepare to achieve the ultimate and climb the highest mountain.
When she is finally on top of the mountain, what do you think she is thinking?
Is she thinking…
“I wish I had my smartphone, my latte, my fast car, my Bluetooth radio, I wish I had Johnny to have sex with, I wish I had some internet porn, I wish I had some fast food…”
Or…
Is she thinking…
“I did it. I finally did it. All the sacrifice finally paid off. I’m here. I’m home.”
Perhaps she cries tears of joy.
Perhaps she smiles and basks in the glow of her ultimate bliss.
Perhaps she thinks nothing at all as she has been so steadfast that the moment has not hit her.
One thing I can guarantee she is not thinking about: Regret.
When you follow the path to the ultimate you have no regret for the simple pleasures you sacrificed.The gods and the spirits wanted you to sacrifice those simple pleasures to them and in return they gave you the ultimate.
Ask yourself a simple question.
Which is more important…
Simple pleasures today
Or...
Achieving the ultimate tomorrow.
(Off Camera)
From the notebook of an old man
People who feel no jealousy towards others simply have good luck. They’ve never met someone like him. Someone who lives with the favour of the gods lavished upon them. Someone who burns like the sun. So brightly, so fiercely, they consume everything around them.
A man loved by the gods…no. The man loved by God.
Our generation alone was extraordinary. I was proud of the fact. And for someone like me, with such pride… I’d grow nauseous from the irritation and discomfort. I could never beat that man… Precious Pepper Vain. Not even once. I, Gustav Pascenko, had to settle for being a silver medalist to a man that crawled his way up from his penniless background and attained all that lies under heaven.
And even then… nobody could compare to us... but I never felt as though he saw me as his equal.
I need no great effort of memory to recall, in every detail, the rainy autumn evening when I called out to him in one of the more frequented streets of Milan years ago. The man turned, showing a face with an interesting geography of scars.
He was a quiet man with kind eyes, who had round shoulders from a lifetime of devotion to his craft. With him were his mother and his daughter, who he turned to with a smile that lights his face and erases the lines of worry from his eyes. He introduced her to me as the “Heir to his Throne.”
She resembles her mother so much, however the fangs lurking deep in her eyes are surely her father’s.
On the grandmother’s face there was a certain surliness: she gave the impression that she could at any moment spit on me with a great deal of pleasure.
That's when I made my first mistake I addressed her as mother and apologised for any hurt I caused her previously through her son.
“Stop talking bullshit,’ she snorted. ‘And don’t call me mother. The very idea that you could be my son fills me with horror.’
I didn’t smile disrespectfully or nastily, although I very much wanted to. I held my silence. I wasn’t exactly a gentleman to her son in our previous encounters in the ring. She remained testy even when I showed them the photo of my project.
‘Tell me what you see,’ I said with a smile.
The grandmother glanced at me. ‘I see the death of my patience.
With effort, I kept my smile cordial and ignored her. I explained to him that I was deep in the works of forming a wrestling school. I’d heard his daughter was not following his footsteps into wrestling. Perhaps being around others of her age would encourage her.
I thought her walking another path would have been a great blow to his pride, a disappointment that would cut him to his core.
But if anything it seemed to please him. And whilst his mother regarded me with skepticism, he was a statue carved in honour of patience. Those eyes… like he was looking straight through me at something far away. Like he pitied me. I still remember that, even to this day.
When he died, I finally realized the pointlessness of my wrestling career. ‘I have mastered my body and techniques to such a degree. And they will vanish from this world.’ One day, people will forget I ever existed. And they will forget my students.
But to my surprise, his daughter ended up diving headfirst into wrestling. She even took up his name -- Precious Pepper Vain... I still do not know her own name. And it left me curious. “What you’re gonna do from now on, and who you’re going to become. I’m going to see it with my own two eyes.”
For the past year she earned her bread by competing in the squared circle. And soon she may achieve the seminal moment of her career to date. Guerilla Warfare.
Now, Guerilla Warfare, there’s a bit of a dangerous bridge to cross. Truly a match for those who find joy in suffering. Pushing themselves beyond anything else they’d endured. And either you fly high or sink into quicksand.
Watching them all cluck and scurry before the match is always amusing, but it tickled me when some presumed PPV to be weak.
Weak? How could she possibly be weak? If man is woven together by the threads of memories and dreams… then… on her two shoulders rest… the life of her father… he who was robbed of his golden age. He still had much to give to this world. Within her lies his hopes, his dreams, his aspirations. She is woven from head to toe with his legacy.
Although I'm the one who trained her, even I can't see her true potential. Precious Pepper Vain is a much more formidable woman than the rumors would lead you to believe. She is a monster that the rest of the world has yet to recognize.
Many are excited to see the potential clash of Hayden and Kaiser. She may well be the drop of poison that completely overshadows such a thing.
(On Camera)
The sun sets in the sky over southern Italy, turning the sky into a canopy of vibrant violet with fading streaks of red and orange.
On a verdant slope there stands an olive grove. In the shade of olive trees, Precious Pepper Vain is atop a ladder, tending to the olives. At one end grows an unnaturally large olive tree of oddly repellent shape; so like to some a grotesque man, or death-distorted body of a man, that the country folk fear to pass it at night when the moon shines faintly through the crooked boughs.
The doe-eyed Italian, with long legs and silken hair moves to it next with her pruning shears.
“...Do you know how to grow good fruit?” Her voice was low and astonishingly soft, like the lap of water on a distant beach.
“To grow the biggest fruit possible, it is necessary, so I’ve heard, to get rid of the bad fruits first.” Appropriately, she removes bunches of less choice olives from the tree, snipping away with her shears. “Such is the Guerilla Warfare match.”
“Once a year Union Battleground blesses us with Guerilla Warfare. It's one of the most anticipated weekends in the wrestling calendar year. There are some performances you simply have to see."
"And this year’s Guerilla Warfare plays host to a gathering of rare significance - competitors ascending to "all-time" levels. Yes, that crowd definitely has “ace” written all over them. They seem vast, like titans. Titans of myth. This Guerrilla Warfare has the stench of history in the making. Who will devour them all and go to Coup de Grace IV?”
No expression can be ascertained due to the blankness of her visage. Not even a flicker of emotion. Brushing stray locks of hair from the front of her face, PPV continues.
“Before the match starts, everyone always thinks, "no matter how strong the “ace” is, there might be a chance we can fight them back. " Yes... "maybe". It's like when you buy a lottery ticket, you'll think that just this time, you might win. But...after the match starts, you will realise how wrong you were. There is nothing else to do but to watch the gulf in skill become ever more apparent. You'll come to understand the truth, the strongest is always the strongest. In front of that kind of power, there is no such thing like a fluke.Your body will feel like a heavy lump. And before long your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness."
The Italian releases a mild chuckle and the smile appears.
“I kinda feel like I'm seesawing between nervousness and excitement.They will say Hayden, Kaiser and Madison could never be humbled, conquered and tamed by the likes of Precious Pepper Vain. Chris Madison? It is he who is considered to be a monstrosity when it comes to submission wrestling and all that it entails. Others say Artemis Kaiser is a storm made of flesh. Some would call Hayden the best wrestler in the world right now. This and 16 other talented opponents are what I have to deal with. I’m up against the ultimate challengers. Yet I too…am just as much as a challenger to wrestling as they are. Dedicating ourselves to the single minded pursuit of a path to the jewel in Union Battleground’s crown. How do I intend to stop them? I do not go to “stop” anything. But to “hunt”. The reason I am here is to claim victory. I’m not filler to helps make the headliners really look a cut above."
"But what do they say of me? What do they say of Precious Pepper Vain? "
"You might have noticed that I have a big, BEAUTIFUL flashing neon sign above me inviting all the low I.Q. shit weasels to shatter me into pieces. Some look at me and see easy pickings. You can’t miss your chance to attack… am i right? Last thing you wanna do is let an opportunity slip through your fingers. Being aimed at is the usual for me. Bring it on."
"I have a whole gaggle of folks burping out ideas on twitter, hoping I’ll look like the understudy who never bothered to crack open the script. They see me and they want the Red Rocks Amphitheatre to be watered with my blood. For me to be beaten and beaten again until I wallow in despair. To have someone punch my entire face all the way back in time with one blow. If I drop out of Union in shame, so much the better. For all I know I might be eliminated first. Wouldn't that be a hoot?”
Vain almost laughs in a heady, nasty mix of relief and predatory pleasure.
"I’d say good luck with that but it would be a lie. Luck is made by you and you only. All that luck shit is in your head, consider yourself lucky and you will be. I’m the luckiest girl in the world and I mean it. It’s why I will be more than a footnote in Union’s pages."
"When a girl gets flustered, because someone calls her weak, it's proof that she recognizes she IS weak. Let the outcome determine the weak and the strong.”
Precious said this in a passionless, somewhat hollow voice, as though she were talking of tobacco or porridge. As if it was common sense. Precious shakes her head, sighing, all with a smirk plastered on her face.
“Everyone in this sport loves to live in their own bubble. I’m not content with that. I won’t be the sort who grows stagnant in their own little corner of the wrestling world. They’re the ones who have a very casual relationship with reality. They act like arguments on Twitter are the be all and end all to your place in the pecking order. I don't want to fight anyone's dumbass on Twitter, I'm here to fight them inside a ring. It's why I came to an event such as this. So I'll bear it for now. I won't fall tor their taunting. I'm making a chance to win where there's no chance to win at all. I have to have patience. Sacrifice the small pleasures… because I’m all in on climbing the mountain."
"I’m facing a real test this time out --- I knew little of Guerilla Warfare, nor the kind of walls i'll hit. A match like this is uncharted territory for me. Much like I can’t say I was familiar with every one of my opponents in this match. But from the start, I knew I wouldn’t be surprised if they all fight like bastards, each and every one of them. I'm sure their training won't betray them. Improving existing moves, adding new ones. I've had good practice matches in what time I've had myself. I can certainly envision how it’ll go."
From her cold and obstinate expression you see that in her dreams she had already conquered Guerilla Warfare with all its violence, celebrated aces and talents, and there was no holding her back now.
"We’re gonna have a lot of the same tired talk I’m sure Union’s fans are used to by now. People doling out their reasons to win, how their whole career has been building to this moment. How they NEED it or whatever. I hate to bring this back to reality but this is real life. Not some cinematic drivel or comic book.I’m sure that to each of us, our reasons are always going to seem more important than those of others, so I’m not going to fight over something like that."
"The strong always win tournaments and events. That’s how it’s meant to be, right? Heaven demands that only one can prevail. Strength unrelenting determines victory. Only he who defeats his opponents, the ring, and himself... can be declared the victor and the strongest!"
"Nuh-uh. I don't think so. With 20 people in a match like this, chances are a fair bit of this is going to come down to luck anyhow. A harrowing tightrope walk for all involved. Or whoever spots opportunities and takes them, who proves on the night that they were just that little bit more hungry than the others."
"It can literally come down to something as simple as someone being half a second quicker on the drop, & in half a second you end up main eventing Coup de Grace. Moments change matches. Matches change history. Very nice. Every bit as crazy as I'd hoped."
"And although it has given us some of the most legendary moments, i couldn't help but wonder how Guerilla Warfare came to be. The Elimination Chamber. Rumble matches. War Games. These are the events where the victor, no matter who they are, can transform into a main eventer in the blink of an eye… they are massive matches that many wrestlers have built a repudiation off of… but Guerilla Warfare must be the most gruelling of them all. Particularly if you come in the start. It’s a fight to the edge of physical limits. It's wrestling equivalent to the Tour de France."
Beyond the hill the afterglow of sunset still lingered in the sky. One pale crimson streak was all that was left, and even that began to be covered by little clouds as a fire with ash.
:People have a passionate longing to be captivated. And back when the Tour de France started, The boss behind the tour felt too many starters crossed the finish line. So he promised “the next tour will be harder”. One year later, he chased the riders through the high alps - the stories about the tour became more exciting and the boss made more money. The tour now lasts not 6, but 15 days. The route leads over really tough mountains. The tour kept getting longer and longer In 1926, the route was longer than from Paris to Moscow and back. It turned out people found it more exciting if there were several shorter stages. Shorter stages & tougher mountains. It was always made more exciting to watch.
I’m certain something similar is the logic behind Guerilla Warfare. They catered to people’s wants. And they wanted difficulty. Suffering. Cruelty. But there is an ART of cruelty.
See, people seek the things that they don’t normally see - even if it’s horrific. They want to see the grotesque. They want to see cruelty. Because it’s interesting. Entertaining. Educational. Do you think that’s a little crazy? Peace can be such a wonderful thing, but for others… something about it is lacking. Losing touch with life and death perhaps? I think subconsciously, people like the idea that we should live thinking this might be the last day we’ve got. Or that danger is right around the corner. They believe that is the only proper state of mind for living things. And they get to see that play out in matches like this. Or even shows like Game of Thrones.
Our road to challenging the crown is long and we know it. Matches like this cement legacies. They create careers .For some it’s a chance to grow their resume once again. It’s only been a handful of months since my return to the ring, and already I can elevate myself at last into the ranks of the exceptional. The curtains will finally rise on the turbulent fourth Guerrilla Warfare. And I'm revoltingly happy about it. Denver is about to explode. And it will become a place for the makers and takers. The killers and real dealers. The winners and grinners, and goddamn, even the sinners too."
The glow had not yet quite died away, but the autumn night was already enfolding nature in its caressing, soothing embrace.
Vain almost laughs in a heady, nasty mix of relief and predatory pleasure.
She has prepared for this moment for all her life.
She has sacrificed everything to get to the top.
On the mountain she is in a very harsh climate - seemingly denying herself the great pleasures of life.
On the great mountain she has no comfort, she has no family, she has no boyfriend, she has no friends, she has no lattes or flatscreen TVs.
On the climb up the mountain she has absolutely nothing that most people in everyday life want to have.
She denies herself all the comforts of the world so that she may climb the mountain.
But is the mountain woman really denying herself anything?
Or…
Is she making another possibility happen?
Climbing to the summit of the greatest mountain in the world is something that ordinary people can never fathom.
They are all willing to settle for little things - cars, phones, sugary junk food, some apparent status in the community.
When these ordinary people see the mountain woman in everyday life, preparing to climb the highest of mountains, these people see only a woman denying herself.
They cannot imagine why you should ever deny yourself immediate pleasures.
To them, the idea of delayed gratification is an alien concept. Denial to them is a horrible crime.
But what they never see is what the seeming denial has given the woman who is on the path to the ultimate.
What they cannot see is that it was not a denial at all.
It was a sacrifice.
The woman gave one thing to get another thing.
Anybody who has created anything great has first denied themselves some simple pleasures of life.
The reason why you deny yourself is because you want to create something.
To create something - to be among those beyond ordinary - your attention must be diverted from the simple pleasures that other people think are valuable.
The concept of sacrifice is something all great religions of the past talk about. But modern man misunderstands the concept of sacrifice.
When we hear about sacrifice we think of sacrificing a chicken to the sun god to make it rain and then the natives do a rain dance.
That is not what sacrifice is.
Sacrifice is the act of giving one thing to get another thing.
In Thailand, the people might sacrifice a refreshing drink to a local spirit so that they may get good luck or not anger the spirit.
The mountain climber will sacrifice her simple pleasures so that she may prepare to achieve the ultimate and climb the highest mountain.
When she is finally on top of the mountain, what do you think she is thinking?
Is she thinking…
“I wish I had my smartphone, my latte, my fast car, my Bluetooth radio, I wish I had Johnny to have sex with, I wish I had some internet porn, I wish I had some fast food…”
Or…
Is she thinking…
“I did it. I finally did it. All the sacrifice finally paid off. I’m here. I’m home.”
Perhaps she cries tears of joy.
Perhaps she smiles and basks in the glow of her ultimate bliss.
Perhaps she thinks nothing at all as she has been so steadfast that the moment has not hit her.
One thing I can guarantee she is not thinking about: Regret.
When you follow the path to the ultimate you have no regret for the simple pleasures you sacrificed.The gods and the spirits wanted you to sacrifice those simple pleasures to them and in return they gave you the ultimate.
Ask yourself a simple question.
Which is more important…
Simple pleasures today
Or...
Achieving the ultimate tomorrow.
(Off Camera)
From the notebook of an old man
People who feel no jealousy towards others simply have good luck. They’ve never met someone like him. Someone who lives with the favour of the gods lavished upon them. Someone who burns like the sun. So brightly, so fiercely, they consume everything around them.
A man loved by the gods…no. The man loved by God.
Our generation alone was extraordinary. I was proud of the fact. And for someone like me, with such pride… I’d grow nauseous from the irritation and discomfort. I could never beat that man… Precious Pepper Vain. Not even once. I, Gustav Pascenko, had to settle for being a silver medalist to a man that crawled his way up from his penniless background and attained all that lies under heaven.
And even then… nobody could compare to us... but I never felt as though he saw me as his equal.
I need no great effort of memory to recall, in every detail, the rainy autumn evening when I called out to him in one of the more frequented streets of Milan years ago. The man turned, showing a face with an interesting geography of scars.
He was a quiet man with kind eyes, who had round shoulders from a lifetime of devotion to his craft. With him were his mother and his daughter, who he turned to with a smile that lights his face and erases the lines of worry from his eyes. He introduced her to me as the “Heir to his Throne.”
She resembles her mother so much, however the fangs lurking deep in her eyes are surely her father’s.
On the grandmother’s face there was a certain surliness: she gave the impression that she could at any moment spit on me with a great deal of pleasure.
That's when I made my first mistake I addressed her as mother and apologised for any hurt I caused her previously through her son.
“Stop talking bullshit,’ she snorted. ‘And don’t call me mother. The very idea that you could be my son fills me with horror.’
I didn’t smile disrespectfully or nastily, although I very much wanted to. I held my silence. I wasn’t exactly a gentleman to her son in our previous encounters in the ring. She remained testy even when I showed them the photo of my project.
‘Tell me what you see,’ I said with a smile.
The grandmother glanced at me. ‘I see the death of my patience.
With effort, I kept my smile cordial and ignored her. I explained to him that I was deep in the works of forming a wrestling school. I’d heard his daughter was not following his footsteps into wrestling. Perhaps being around others of her age would encourage her.
I thought her walking another path would have been a great blow to his pride, a disappointment that would cut him to his core.
But if anything it seemed to please him. And whilst his mother regarded me with skepticism, he was a statue carved in honour of patience. Those eyes… like he was looking straight through me at something far away. Like he pitied me. I still remember that, even to this day.
When he died, I finally realized the pointlessness of my wrestling career. ‘I have mastered my body and techniques to such a degree. And they will vanish from this world.’ One day, people will forget I ever existed. And they will forget my students.
But to my surprise, his daughter ended up diving headfirst into wrestling. She even took up his name -- Precious Pepper Vain... I still do not know her own name. And it left me curious. “What you’re gonna do from now on, and who you’re going to become. I’m going to see it with my own two eyes.”
For the past year she earned her bread by competing in the squared circle. And soon she may achieve the seminal moment of her career to date. Guerilla Warfare.
Now, Guerilla Warfare, there’s a bit of a dangerous bridge to cross. Truly a match for those who find joy in suffering. Pushing themselves beyond anything else they’d endured. And either you fly high or sink into quicksand.
Watching them all cluck and scurry before the match is always amusing, but it tickled me when some presumed PPV to be weak.
Weak? How could she possibly be weak? If man is woven together by the threads of memories and dreams… then… on her two shoulders rest… the life of her father… he who was robbed of his golden age. He still had much to give to this world. Within her lies his hopes, his dreams, his aspirations. She is woven from head to toe with his legacy.
Although I'm the one who trained her, even I can't see her true potential. Precious Pepper Vain is a much more formidable woman than the rumors would lead you to believe. She is a monster that the rest of the world has yet to recognize.
Many are excited to see the potential clash of Hayden and Kaiser. She may well be the drop of poison that completely overshadows such a thing.
(On Camera)
The sun sets in the sky over southern Italy, turning the sky into a canopy of vibrant violet with fading streaks of red and orange.
On a verdant slope there stands an olive grove. In the shade of olive trees, Precious Pepper Vain is atop a ladder, tending to the olives. At one end grows an unnaturally large olive tree of oddly repellent shape; so like to some a grotesque man, or death-distorted body of a man, that the country folk fear to pass it at night when the moon shines faintly through the crooked boughs.
The doe-eyed Italian, with long legs and silken hair moves to it next with her pruning shears.
“...Do you know how to grow good fruit?” Her voice was low and astonishingly soft, like the lap of water on a distant beach.
“To grow the biggest fruit possible, it is necessary, so I’ve heard, to get rid of the bad fruits first.” Appropriately, she removes bunches of less choice olives from the tree, snipping away with her shears. “Such is the Guerilla Warfare match.”
“Once a year Union Battleground blesses us with Guerilla Warfare. It's one of the most anticipated weekends in the wrestling calendar year. There are some performances you simply have to see."
"And this year’s Guerilla Warfare plays host to a gathering of rare significance - competitors ascending to "all-time" levels. Yes, that crowd definitely has “ace” written all over them. They seem vast, like titans. Titans of myth. This Guerrilla Warfare has the stench of history in the making. Who will devour them all and go to Coup de Grace IV?”
No expression can be ascertained due to the blankness of her visage. Not even a flicker of emotion. Brushing stray locks of hair from the front of her face, PPV continues.
“Before the match starts, everyone always thinks, "no matter how strong the “ace” is, there might be a chance we can fight them back. " Yes... "maybe". It's like when you buy a lottery ticket, you'll think that just this time, you might win. But...after the match starts, you will realise how wrong you were. There is nothing else to do but to watch the gulf in skill become ever more apparent. You'll come to understand the truth, the strongest is always the strongest. In front of that kind of power, there is no such thing like a fluke.Your body will feel like a heavy lump. And before long your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness."
The Italian releases a mild chuckle and the smile appears.
“I kinda feel like I'm seesawing between nervousness and excitement.They will say Hayden, Kaiser and Madison could never be humbled, conquered and tamed by the likes of Precious Pepper Vain. Chris Madison? It is he who is considered to be a monstrosity when it comes to submission wrestling and all that it entails. Others say Artemis Kaiser is a storm made of flesh. Some would call Hayden the best wrestler in the world right now. This and 16 other talented opponents are what I have to deal with. I’m up against the ultimate challengers. Yet I too…am just as much as a challenger to wrestling as they are. Dedicating ourselves to the single minded pursuit of a path to the jewel in Union Battleground’s crown. How do I intend to stop them? I do not go to “stop” anything. But to “hunt”. The reason I am here is to claim victory. I’m not filler to helps make the headliners really look a cut above."
"But what do they say of me? What do they say of Precious Pepper Vain? "
"You might have noticed that I have a big, BEAUTIFUL flashing neon sign above me inviting all the low I.Q. shit weasels to shatter me into pieces. Some look at me and see easy pickings. You can’t miss your chance to attack… am i right? Last thing you wanna do is let an opportunity slip through your fingers. Being aimed at is the usual for me. Bring it on."
"I have a whole gaggle of folks burping out ideas on twitter, hoping I’ll look like the understudy who never bothered to crack open the script. They see me and they want the Red Rocks Amphitheatre to be watered with my blood. For me to be beaten and beaten again until I wallow in despair. To have someone punch my entire face all the way back in time with one blow. If I drop out of Union in shame, so much the better. For all I know I might be eliminated first. Wouldn't that be a hoot?”
Vain almost laughs in a heady, nasty mix of relief and predatory pleasure.
"I’d say good luck with that but it would be a lie. Luck is made by you and you only. All that luck shit is in your head, consider yourself lucky and you will be. I’m the luckiest girl in the world and I mean it. It’s why I will be more than a footnote in Union’s pages."
"When a girl gets flustered, because someone calls her weak, it's proof that she recognizes she IS weak. Let the outcome determine the weak and the strong.”
Precious said this in a passionless, somewhat hollow voice, as though she were talking of tobacco or porridge. As if it was common sense. Precious shakes her head, sighing, all with a smirk plastered on her face.
“Everyone in this sport loves to live in their own bubble. I’m not content with that. I won’t be the sort who grows stagnant in their own little corner of the wrestling world. They’re the ones who have a very casual relationship with reality. They act like arguments on Twitter are the be all and end all to your place in the pecking order. I don't want to fight anyone's dumbass on Twitter, I'm here to fight them inside a ring. It's why I came to an event such as this. So I'll bear it for now. I won't fall tor their taunting. I'm making a chance to win where there's no chance to win at all. I have to have patience. Sacrifice the small pleasures… because I’m all in on climbing the mountain."
"I’m facing a real test this time out --- I knew little of Guerilla Warfare, nor the kind of walls i'll hit. A match like this is uncharted territory for me. Much like I can’t say I was familiar with every one of my opponents in this match. But from the start, I knew I wouldn’t be surprised if they all fight like bastards, each and every one of them. I'm sure their training won't betray them. Improving existing moves, adding new ones. I've had good practice matches in what time I've had myself. I can certainly envision how it’ll go."
From her cold and obstinate expression you see that in her dreams she had already conquered Guerilla Warfare with all its violence, celebrated aces and talents, and there was no holding her back now.
"We’re gonna have a lot of the same tired talk I’m sure Union’s fans are used to by now. People doling out their reasons to win, how their whole career has been building to this moment. How they NEED it or whatever. I hate to bring this back to reality but this is real life. Not some cinematic drivel or comic book.I’m sure that to each of us, our reasons are always going to seem more important than those of others, so I’m not going to fight over something like that."
"The strong always win tournaments and events. That’s how it’s meant to be, right? Heaven demands that only one can prevail. Strength unrelenting determines victory. Only he who defeats his opponents, the ring, and himself... can be declared the victor and the strongest!"
"Nuh-uh. I don't think so. With 20 people in a match like this, chances are a fair bit of this is going to come down to luck anyhow. A harrowing tightrope walk for all involved. Or whoever spots opportunities and takes them, who proves on the night that they were just that little bit more hungry than the others."
"It can literally come down to something as simple as someone being half a second quicker on the drop, & in half a second you end up main eventing Coup de Grace. Moments change matches. Matches change history. Very nice. Every bit as crazy as I'd hoped."
"And although it has given us some of the most legendary moments, i couldn't help but wonder how Guerilla Warfare came to be. The Elimination Chamber. Rumble matches. War Games. These are the events where the victor, no matter who they are, can transform into a main eventer in the blink of an eye… they are massive matches that many wrestlers have built a repudiation off of… but Guerilla Warfare must be the most gruelling of them all. Particularly if you come in the start. It’s a fight to the edge of physical limits. It's wrestling equivalent to the Tour de France."
Beyond the hill the afterglow of sunset still lingered in the sky. One pale crimson streak was all that was left, and even that began to be covered by little clouds as a fire with ash.
:People have a passionate longing to be captivated. And back when the Tour de France started, The boss behind the tour felt too many starters crossed the finish line. So he promised “the next tour will be harder”. One year later, he chased the riders through the high alps - the stories about the tour became more exciting and the boss made more money. The tour now lasts not 6, but 15 days. The route leads over really tough mountains. The tour kept getting longer and longer In 1926, the route was longer than from Paris to Moscow and back. It turned out people found it more exciting if there were several shorter stages. Shorter stages & tougher mountains. It was always made more exciting to watch.
I’m certain something similar is the logic behind Guerilla Warfare. They catered to people’s wants. And they wanted difficulty. Suffering. Cruelty. But there is an ART of cruelty.
See, people seek the things that they don’t normally see - even if it’s horrific. They want to see the grotesque. They want to see cruelty. Because it’s interesting. Entertaining. Educational. Do you think that’s a little crazy? Peace can be such a wonderful thing, but for others… something about it is lacking. Losing touch with life and death perhaps? I think subconsciously, people like the idea that we should live thinking this might be the last day we’ve got. Or that danger is right around the corner. They believe that is the only proper state of mind for living things. And they get to see that play out in matches like this. Or even shows like Game of Thrones.
Our road to challenging the crown is long and we know it. Matches like this cement legacies. They create careers .For some it’s a chance to grow their resume once again. It’s only been a handful of months since my return to the ring, and already I can elevate myself at last into the ranks of the exceptional. The curtains will finally rise on the turbulent fourth Guerrilla Warfare. And I'm revoltingly happy about it. Denver is about to explode. And it will become a place for the makers and takers. The killers and real dealers. The winners and grinners, and goddamn, even the sinners too."
The glow had not yet quite died away, but the autumn night was already enfolding nature in its caressing, soothing embrace.
Vain almost laughs in a heady, nasty mix of relief and predatory pleasure.