“You never need to ask, Where are the Firing Squad?”
Noah ripped one of Rumble Reyes’ custom “MISSING” posters of the Outliers off of the heavy bag in front of him. Noah’s breathing was heavy, and beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. He stared down at the poster in his hands for a moment before crumbling it up into a ball and tossing it on the floor. The ball of paper came to rest right next to a duffle bag that Noah brought. He stood in the corner of a Dojo in Tokyo and hanging from the ceiling in front of him was a heavy bag. Noah had the poster taped to the heavy bag, using it as a target for his strikes - fists, forearms, elbows and knees. The bag, which had been previously swaying, came to a stop when Noah grabbed it and held it stationary, leaning slightly against it. His eyes moved up to the camera, peering through the strands of hair that fell into his face.
“Ever since last June when Rumble and I showed up representing So Cal Ultraviolent - taking part in the Battalion Tournament - we have been here completely. We have taken part in every event, we have shown up to every arena. Rumble and I became the face of the Battalion Division long before the Outliers won the titles. We always knew that the tournament was going to come down to us against the Outliers, and we were prepared for them since day one. We went through Trixie and Tornado and we went through Camila and Sinister all in order to step up to the platform where we rightfully belonged. The end of the tournament was always planned - but it did not end the way it was supposed to.”
Noah alluded to the end of the Battalion championship match at Coupe de Grace. Thinking about the referee’s mistake made Noah’s smirk fade. He moved a hand up, brushing the hair out of his face.
“An official's mistake allowed the Outliers to take the championships that should have been ours. But ever since that night there’s been one resounding question that we have asked - the same question that nearly every person who tunes in asks. Where are the Outliers? They didn’t show up to the Hammerstein Ballroom for Burning Hammer. They didn’t show up to New Zealand. They were in Sydney, apparently, but were afraid to show their faces outside of the boiler rooms in the basement of the arena - and all they did was cut a little interview where they brushed the threat of the Firing Squad off. All the while myself and Rumble have been here, day in and day out - grinding - preparing for the eventual rematch where we take what should be ours in the first place. But instead, these are the champions that represent Union Battleground. A couple of cowards who hide in the basement, brush off legitimate challengers and fail to show up to any other event. Some champions.”
Noah scoffed, shook his head and turned to the bag. In one swift motion, he throw an elbow into the bag - hitting it with force. Without turning to the camera again, he carried on.
“Grin and Corrupts have enjoyed their time away, attending and competing in other events in this industry - and that’s fine. Good for them. But while they’ve been busy, Rumble and I have been focused and determined on avenging our loss at Coupe de Grace. We took the team of Sabina and Oceane and we dropped them on their fucking backs.” Noah hit the bag once more before finally turning back to the camera, “And you know what’s sad? They will probably be more of a challenge than the champions will be. It’s a sad state of affairs in the Battalion division when a brand new team, in their first match ever, comes in and outshines anything that the “champions” have done in this company. .. But don’t worry much about that. Grin and Corrupt are outta’ time. I would like to say there was a purpose for their title reign, or something - but there wasn’t. They got lucky and took advantage of a bad ref placement and never returned. They are the definition of “paper champion”. Rumble and I are going to erase that blemish on our tag team history at Lights Out, and we’re going to erase the blemish in this company when we take the tag titles that WE deserve.”
His voice rose, and you could hear the tone in his voice - and it wasn’t arrogance. It was belief. It was fact. Noah truly believed that he and Rumble deserved the titles more than the Outliers, and that Lights Out! Eighteen would be the night that they took the titles away from them.
“We know what to expect from Grin and Corrupts, if they even bother to show up. We saw their tricks the last time they stepped up against us, and even back at Coupe de Grace it was not quite enough to get us. They won because of the referee’s bad position, not because we were out wrestled - or out matched. We had them beat, and we still do. Rumble has the size and strength advantage that no one in this company can even come close to. And myself - well, you’ve seen my striking prowess. We understand their unique wrestling styles, we understand their teamwork strategy - and we’re prepared for it, even more so now than we were before. Facing Oceane and Sabina did more than you think for us. It helped us evolve, it helped us understand unique teams. Not to mention they’re the same height as you two and only shy about fifty pounds. And look at what we did to them.”
“And you know what?” Noah smirked “I think the Outliers know that. Maybe that’s why they haven’t been around since they won the titles, because they knew it was only a matter of time before they had to face us again - and they knew that the next time wouldn’t end up like the last time. In the back of their minds both Grin and Corrupt know that they’re not leaving Japan with the Battalion championships, and it terrifies them.”
“Promoted and hyped as one of the best teams in the world; they have never come across a team as hungry and determined as the Firing Squad. And it will be that hunger, that determination that separates us at Lights Out and solidifies myself and Rumble as the faces of the Battalion Division. We’ve been the only thing constant in this division. Other teams have come and gone, or haven’t even shown up. And when we’re done with Grin and Corrupt this time, I’m willing to bet they’ll take the losers road out and just stop showing up, as well. Seems to be the cowards way.”
Turning away from the bag fully, he began speaking again. Bringing up his hands, becoming animated as he spoke.
“We’ve shot down the rest of the Battalion division, and the last two sentenced to death by way of the Firing Squad are you two. Hope you’re ready, ‘cause we sure are.”
--------------------
Rumble Reyes approached Noah Reigner, him having just finished a sparring (or destruction) session against a couple Young Boys in the Dojo. Noah began unraveling the tape around his hands and wrists. “Just days away, bro. This is our time now.” Noah said, lowering his head as he balled the garbage tape and tossed it into his bag before beginning the other hand. “Svarro has been trying to reach you. Where’s your phone?” Rumble said in that deep voice of his. Noah chuckled, looking up at his partner. “Trey Gambill happened to it. Dropped it in a glass of jack and coke.”
Rumble didn’t find it as humorous as Noah did. He stared blankly at Noah, “It’s that bitch. She’s now calling Svarro and bugging him.” Noah’s laugh cut off abruptly. His eyes narrowed, “Then maybe he should drop his phone into a drink too. Or he can tell her to fuck off.” Touchy subject. Noah violently grabbed his bag, and began to leave when Rumble stopped him. “No man. You deal with your shit, just like we have to deal with our own.” There was silence between Noah and Rumble, until Noah sighed a frustrated sigh and reluctantly agreed. “Fine. After Lights Out.”
Noah pushed by his partner and walked out of the Dojo. Rumble shook his head and followed.
Post by "Rumble" Reyes on Feb 5, 2018 23:42:51 GMT -5
"Too Far Gone"
BREAKING: FOUND
The words are displayed across the television screen suddenly, almost bursting. They move to the right and the scene fades in upon a man in a suit and tie. He's sitting alone, in the middle of the camera view and drawing mass amounts of attention. He has almost no facial expression, sitting with his arms folded. His eyes narrow in, becoming increasingly intense. For a few moments, he continues to stare down the camera, taking his job way too seriously.
"This JUST in! Reports are coming in that The Outliers have now been found! They have been spotted near Tokyo, Japan."
The camera on the man's left comes to life. He turns, looking directly at the new camera. Up and to the right, a photo of The Outliers together, holding the Battalion Championships on their shoulders. As the man continued speaking, it was almost as if someone was taking a red markers and drawing a giant X upon the photo of The Outliers.
"The Outliers are set to defend the Union Battleground Battalion Championships against the Firing Squad, the same duo they defeated in controversial fashion. It was originally the Firing Squad that reported The Outliers missing a couple weeks ago. It's true, many haven't seen The Outliers in person in quite some time especially after their match as Coup de Grace."
Again, the camera on the opposite side turned on, and the man turned to look at it. Each time his gaze narrowing in further.
"We do not officially confirm or deny these reports, but one does have to wonder whether or not The Outliers WILL show up for their title defense. Pretty easy to see they've done absolutely nothing since winning those belts, and there would probably be no difference made if they were found or not. Personally, I hope they show up, and get shot down. #FiringSquad"
UNKNOWN - TOKYO, JAPAN.
FEBRUARY FIFTH, TWO THOUSAND EIGHTEEN.
"I get it, really, I do..."
At first, all you could hear was the booming voice of "Rumble" Reyes. It was one that could not be mistaken. A moment later, and the visuals flickered to life. He stands directly in front of you, as towering as ever, and the camera makes it known. He's wearing his usual sunglasses, hiding his firey stare. A waits a few seconds, turning over the words within his heads, thinking them over.
"You know what? No. No, I don't."
He shakes his head back and forth, his gaze somehow becoming more directed than before.
"We've drove home the fact that The Outliers have all but left Union Battleground high and dry, and I'm sure you two are tired of hearing it. You're busy men, with your MMA career and all or whatever. Personally, I don't really see the point in being a mixed martial artist when it's not really going to do you any good. I can crush you both in one go, hoist you both over my shoulder with ease. But I understand that's what you do, at least one of you, and I understand you dedicate time to it. People get busy all the time."
He pauses again, for the second time taking a moment to re-think the words that had come out of his mouth. It sounded more like he was convincing himself, than stating his claim. He pursed his lips for a moment, obviously holding back.
"What I don't understand is just how little you've done with those belts since winning them. Union Battleground put out a call for any and all teams across the world. For all of them to show up in the Battalion tournament and show their worth, the winner walking away with the belts. All sorts of people entered, and it came down to the four of us. While other champions take their belts elsewhere, show them off...defend them...we get champions such as yourselves. Supposedly, you fight all the time, but why no mention of the Battalion championships? Why don't you promote them at your cage matches?"
Rumble stroked his chin.
"Just try telling me it's something like you two don't really give a damn about the belts. Try telling me you were never into the tournament, and that's why it took you so long to finally put those belts on the way. In reality, we'd all know you were wrong. You fought so hard to get to your finale position in the tournament. My personal opinion? You don't want the world to know you two are the champs, and why? Because you know you're on borrowed time. You know you were never supposed to win the belts to begin with and you don't want to embarrass yourselves by tooting your own horn just to get knocked back down. You two know exactly what you've been doing."
For the first time, he uncrossed his arms, letting them fall to his side as he nodded his head up and down.
"And now? Now you're finally going to get what's coming to you. NOW you're being forced to put those belts on the line against us!"
For a moment, he allowed his anger of the entire situation to show through. There was no doubts about it, Reyes often came across as a relatively stoic individual, speaking his mind but attempting never to show much emotion. However, he flung his sunglasses of his face in a display of rage.
"Unfortunately for the pair of you, we've always been the better team. It was the Firing Squad that people had pegged to take that tournament, it was the Firing Squad that made the most noise coming into this place. I'm going to let every boy and girl listening in on a little secret. I originally liked you boys, didn't have a single thing against you. Even though, if anyone was gonna beat us in the end, might as well be these two. But then Coup de Grace happened...and you two pretty much acted like a bunch of little jerkoffs, everything following. And now you're just too far gone to ever come back from it. You're much too far gone to be saved from your execution."
It continued as he rose his fist into the air, his voice even becoming a little hoarse and rough.
"It stung me to know we fell to the team that would turn out to be you two. I can admit, I had it all wrong from the beginning. I completely misjudged exactly who you boys are. It never should have been the two of you, at all. You two never deserved to win those belts in the first place, and we're here to prove that to you. So in stung even more to know that I had been deceived from the very start, and that we had somehow been SCREWED by the referee. Of all the people to be screwed by, the referee. It wasn't someone from Salvation coming down to get even with us, wasn't some other team that saw themselves in the tournament instead of us. Most of all, it was NOT some master plan between the two of you. THAT I would actually respect. THAT I would have to tip my hat too. But no! It had nothing to do with The Outliers being better than us in any sort of way, nothing to do with The Outliers outsmarting us in any way...The Outliers were HANDED those belts by the referee. That's it. As long as Axel Graves got around to hiring new referees then the Firing Squad are walking out of this with the belts around our waists!"
Rumble took his two giant hands, bringing them down to his waist area and motioning for the belts around his waist. He collected himself, throwing his shades back onto his face, before taking a deep breath.
"In the end your world will come crashing down, and the only thing you'll see is the wrong side of the barrel of a gun...before Noah and I...the Firing Squad, pull the trigger!"
Post by The Outliers on Feb 5, 2018 23:53:26 GMT -5
flesh & blood robots
1. 26. 18 STAPLES CENTER LOS ANGELES. CA
New Horizon was a monumental event for the mixed martial arts community, as this was only the second time since opening that Caged Glory had taken their beloved promotion to the United States. Every seat in the arena was occupied, and as always, every single fight delivered. In the Co-Main, with aide from Hewhocorrupts and the rest of his corner team, Grin was able to bite down on his mouthpiece through four grueling rounds; retaining his title via anaconda choke.
The subsequent face-off inside the octagon with number one contender, Jason Jackson frenzied the fans even further. The two were set to square off for the first time in March, making it one of the most anticipated contests in CGFC Dragon Championship history.
As they make their way to the back, The Outliers and the rest of the team revel in the moment. They rush toward the dressing room and slam the door behind them.
Los Angeles had been a victory.. and the evening belonged to The Outliers. Everything was running smoothly for these codependent confidants because they put the work in to make it so. It wasn't fate or divine intervention that brought them here. It was sheer determination and brutal discipline in their daily routines; it was by giving full expression to their strengths with the most sincere effort. Side by side they've managed to stay on top of the swell, and the wave was getting bigger; they both knew it. Thriving under the pressure.
Grin inhales deeply as he throws himself down onto the chair. He drops his head and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Can I get these off, please."
With a wave of his fist, one of the coaches immediately goes into action and produces a pair of scissors from his cornerman vest and begins cutting away at the tape wraps. Hewhocorrupts stands behind Grin, icing his shoulders. "She was fucking relentless, as game as they come. But, we made adjustments and tightened shit up well, I think. You dodged some fuckin' BULLETS, though! I told you she was gonna come wild. When you shot in, your timing was perfect, and then you changed levels so fast. She had no time to react. Clutch as fuck, man. I'm proud of you. You good?"
Corrupts had worked his partners corner many times. He possessed a wealth of insight acquired through years of running with Ernie that made him truly invaluable during the chaos; knowing exactly what Ernie needed to hear and when he needed to hear it. And aside from being the ultimate hype man, he trained various disciplines himself, and was a bit of a technician when it came to analyzing and breaking down fight sports.
"Superrrbb. Just..tired." Ernie huffs as he finally leans back, wiping his face with both hands.
As HWC goes to toss the ice pack aside, his phone begins to vibrate. He slides it from his pocket to forward the call to voicemail, but when he notices who is on the other end, he curiously raises an eyebrow. "IIIII'm gonna take this right quick, buddy."
Ernie wasn't paying any attention, in fact, he had hardly moved. HWC excuses himself in a hurry, but returns almost as abruptly as he left. The only difference is the shit eating grin smeared across his face. He knew his amigo had just been through hell, and was trying to exhibit some restraint, but he just couldn't help himself. He was just too jacked.
"DUDE! It was the bossman.. and GUESS WHAT!!?" Corrupts blurts out, almost dancing his way back over to his teammate. "THE FUCKING REMATCH IS SET!! We're headlining L!GHTS OUT February ninth! Graves set it up. He knew we offered to take the fight, they want the fight. Finally get to settle this shit. In fuckin' Tokyo too, bruddah.. TOKYO!"
In an instant the exhaustion wanes and Ernie perks up in his seat. Craning his neck to get a visual on his partner, who was still rushing in. Ernie scrunches up his nose and starts snorting and sucking back snot. It was vile sounding. It was long. And it was drawn out. He eventually clears his throat and hocks up a mixture of phlegm and blood, spitting it on the floor. Threads of saliva stretch from his chin as he looks up to smile at Corrupts.. teeth outlined in red.
big business
2. 3. 18 TOKYO. JAPAN
After hours and Amongst a group of close friends skating around the streets of Tokyo. Hewhocorrupts is laying down fresh grip tape on a new deck, dragging an X-ACTO knife along its edge. Sawtooth stands close, throwing up the hood on his sweatshirt and zipping it up.
GRIN: Wow, just like a PRO.
Holding it up proud, Corrupts rotates the new board for the camera; tiny specks of silicon shimmering under the street light.
HWC: Custom grip courtesy of HIRO. Otsukaresama, doumo. Wish you were here.
Motioning to someone off camera, waving him over.
HWC: Hakase get over here.
Throwing an arm around his long time friend, Corrupts kisses him on the cheek and pulls him into the scene.
HWC: This is Hakase. Honestly one of the most genuine and insightful people I've met in my travels, just a beautiful soul--what are we doin' out here tonight, bud? Tell the people.
HAKASE: Skating. After work until last train. Pushing around looking for spots, finding a new street.. yeah, just spot to spot.. around the city all night.
HWC: Hakase, remember the time we stayed out all night, shredding the streets of Tokyo?
HAKASE: You mean when we missed the train?
HWC: That's the one. We had to transfer trains and we missed our second stop outta the city.
HAKASE: We got there and the gates were closed. If you miss the last train from Tokyo you have to wait till like five in the morning. But we were already halfway home..
HWC: Yeah, it was so fun to just stay out all night, skate around. It's mostly downhill, too so it's just an easy ride in general. I was in complete awe cruising around, taking in the views, the lights, the people. Trust me, you don't mind skating a few miles home because it's fucking Tokyo.. and Tokyo is beautiful, man. Just like you, Hakase.
Anyway, one thing you notice when you're here for awhile.. street skating is kind of a night time thing in Tokyo. During the daytime it's hectic and the streets are just beyond crowded. The culture is very quiet, calm, peaceful.. skating is the complete opposite. You can't really do it in the daytime without getting tossed instantly so a lot of people wait till night falls. That's why The Outliers and Co. are out here tonight, in the cut, staying limber.
HAKASE: Big match! Can't wait!
The crowd of skateboarding heathens let out a passionate cheer.
HAKASE: Ganbatte ne! (Literally: "Good luck!/Hold on!/Keep at it!/Do your best!”)
FRIENDS: Kimi nara dekiru yo! (Literally: “If it is you, you will be able to do it”)
THE OUTLIERS: Thanks everyone!
HWC: Alright, Hakase, we'll see you in a bit now get out there and tear it up!
With the wink of an eye, and a sharp smack on the ass, Corrupts pushes Hakase out of frame. Grin snickers as he faceplams, turning to the crowd.
GRIN: Don't mind us everyone, just keep doin' your thing. We're gonna make this quick.
HWC: Just act natural everyone, like we're not even here!
The sound of the skaters trucks popping on and off ledges can be heard in the background as The Outliers step in closer, ready to spit.
GRIN: You're the face of the division? PUH-LEEEEASE! How the fuck ya figure that? What have you done to leave your mark? Your claim to fame is what?! Working through a tournament?! Is that what we're goin' with? You didn't win. Even if you had, titles change hands every day. Just being a part of the roster doesn't make you a staple. You're not gonna dethrone us by smashing cheetos from a couch, or whining like a bitch to anyone that'll listen. It takes more than that to be a boss, folks.
We're the real deal. And we've EARNED every bit of it. Could have easily waited for the tournament to wrap up and shit-hawk whoever won'em.. but we didn't. That's not what we wanted.
HWC: We ARE THE BATTALION DIVISION! There's a reason the fans dig us, and it has nothing to do with hardware. We leave our mark with, or without'em. The man makes the title, not the other way around. We left our mark when we crowd surfed our asses down to the ring to hype the first ever UB Battalion match.. We left our mark when we turned all the ragers at the Warped Tour into a Union Battle MOB! In Sydney when we came out HOT on big wheels Shining stylee! As far as our UB career goes? This was all done before our brunch dank bud, my dudes. Doesn't matter if we show our faces at every event. Everybody knows that when we do? It's memorable. This division is young and we make an impression everywhere we show up... We're ENTERTAINING like that. We lead cause we put in the fucking work. You guy's ain't blowin' lids off a goddamn thing.
It's to be expected, strength invites challenge.. challenge incites conflict.. conflict breeds catastrophe. For us, this is all just par for the course. But when we traded in the hood for some Hollywood we didn't expect to run into so many deluded, self-entitled teams born with a silver foot in their mouth. Maybe you should all give up and accept your best work is triggered by professional jealousy, petty competitiveness, and rage. Y'all seem pretty envious of our success, but you never wanna walk out to the mound, point to the crowd and tell them where you're going to hit it.. That's what we do. We call our shots. We take risks. We may fail but at least we do so daringly. We set the standard for our competitors so there's no need for the confrontational facade--our talent speaks for itself. We set the bar then jump over it. We don't act hard we're a hard act to follow. You can't dismiss our sick transmissions You got no business questioning a thing, fuck do you do? Rack a bitch chalk and cue you, corner pocket we consume you!
GRIN: 'Cause 'round here? You don't just talk about it.. UB about it. We're gonna keep makin' waves.. just try not to drown in 'em. All you fishy, bottom feedin' bitches stick to eatin' off a hooks. That's what you're good at.
HWC: Face of the division? RRIIGGHHT. More like a footnote. We're inextricably linked to it's DNA. We blazed the trail. We were involved in the first tag team match EVER in Union Battleground. We made history by winning the first Battalion Championships. You walk on the road we paved. You stand on the foundation we built..
GRIN: Funny you think you're on an open road when it's really a dead-end. It's funny you think you're the architect.. well we're the pipe bomb ready to blow.. and everything you built.. it was all for show.
HWC: You'll be erased.. this is the future and you're not apart of it. We are the future. We'll keep pushing boundaries while you keep discovering bold new frontiers of suck. You'll be left wallowing in a pool of your own obsolescence.. while you're chasing history we'll be busy making our own.
GRIN: So keep selling your shit, keep stretching. It's laughable. Anyone that actually keeps up and watches rasslin' ain't gonna get caught up in it, that's for sure. We don't take bookings? We're cowards? Scared? All these scars and all this gold beg to differ. You busters keep playin' yourselves though, and we'll keep on owning what we've created.
Now, the both of you are probably gonna rap about how you're taller and have longer reach so you're gonna connect first, or make up some bullshit about how Rumble might be a tub of shit, but he's bald so it makes him more aerodynamic. Good on you if you think that's what wins fights, but if it's all the same we're gonna skip it. It's stupid and at the end of the day, none of that shit makes a lick of difference. Nah, I'd almost guarantee most of your time in front of the camera will be spent doing the EXACT same thing you've been doing since Burning Hammer-- Fuckin' complaining. Let's delve into that a little bit, huh? You've been so busy with it, let's break it down.
Corrupts stomps down on the tail of his board, snatching it mid-air. He holds it up and spins one of the wheels, watching closely until it slows.
HWC: They been spinnin' their wheels for so long, we should probably start at the root.. the source of allll that bellyachin'! Season One's biggest PPV event of the year saw The Firing Squad and yours truly in the final for the straps. It was botched by an incompetent official that kinda soured the whole deal.
Look guys, of course we would have preferred a clean win at Coupe De Grace, believe us on that. We worked hard too, ya know? Ended up taking out the only other tag team champions in the entire tournament, but we weren't about to get hung up on it. We knew it would come.. Eventually. You took the loss personally. Like we did this. It was the ref you fucking morons.
GRIN: And Despite the way the it ended, the match up to that point was solid. Usually after you fight someone, you find a common ground, an understanding, and hopefully some form of respect? But, you guys weren't really havin' that, huh? So you kinda forced our hand on this one. We're usually eazie-breezie-livin greazy! It coulda been a lot more fun. But you guys wanna sound off on some nonsense. A bunch of misdirected hostility.
Did you come out after the loss? Say, righteous match, let's do it again? You might've gotten further with that approach, but you didn't, so we'll never know. Instead, you got all emotional, allowing your inexperience, your immaturity, and your raging sense of entitlement to shine through. You've been stuck on us, and to be honest it's not a good look on either of you, especially the fat one. You didn't play it smart, you should've come correct. You came out as if WE owed you two something. We don't know you, we don't like you, and we owe you NOTHING.
Did Graves come out and announce anything about a rematch immediately following our bout? No, he didn't. Them's the breaks, boys. Maybe instead of complaining about it you shoulda got your shit together. Instead you disappeared for a stretch. I mean, y'all didn't even come into Season Two together. Is that what super solid, "cohesive", "well-oiled" teams do?
HWC: Had that been us? We'd of been campaigning for that rematch the RIGHT WAY, the second that final bell at Coupe rang. The funny thing is, you guys were radio silent! M.I.A! Nowhere to be found! That's UNTIL Burning Hammer.. Where you apparently expected us to be? With a bow on? That's where your protest piss party got underway.
Corrupts chuckles as he sticks a switch kickflip, slamming down hard, and almost immediately returning to task.
HWC: And where the fuck were you guys after RELASPE when we called out everyone in the division and beyond? An open call to ass kickers everywhere.. nowhere to be found.. quiet as a stone. Uh-huh, I bet you'll sink like one, too.
Did you expect us to give a shit about your foot on the rope and the way it ended? If you pegged us for a team that gave a shit.. that's on you. Wrestling injustices go on all day everyday. Yeah, you lost, you fought a couple matches and are back, piss babies. That's kinda how things go. And were you really taken that far out of your way? YOU FOUGHT TWO MATCHES. You guys are ridiculous! Bitched and moaned over something that took two matches to get back to!
I guess finger painting on the walls with shit from your loaded diapy's was one way to get attention, but while you thought you were applying pressure, pushing us toward your "rightful" round two, you were really just providing us with some cheap entertainment. You were boiling over and we were just having fun watching you sweat.
GRIN: You say you're not sweatin' it, but we see you gettin' cooked! As you can see.. our annoy and toy wrestling style applies to other aspects. We were never opposed to the rematch. We're the Champs, though. BET it's gonna be on our terms. We're not at your beck and call, motherfuckers. Let's get that straight right now. I mean for real, where the fuck are you guys use to competing? You guys thought you could order off the menu and look at you now? You're gonna hafta eat shit, and to be honest, we don't mind being the ones to serve it up.
HWC: All swollen with self-righteousness. Doing your best not to think about what awaits you, tricking yourself with a confidence you neither deserve, nor truly believe. Pitiful.
It's sad. Tragic really...how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise. But you elicit our sympathy more than our contempt. See you've been courting tragedy and disaster. Your little push for the belts has actually been a sprint toward self-destruction and it's about to turn into a marathon..
Cause it's not only the violence that sets us apart, it's the distance we're prepared to go. And we don't just plan on taking you to the edge, oh no.. we plan on pushing your asses clean over. We're leaving nothing to chance. In the end their will be no doubt, no question or confusion. After we've tweaked and tugged and pulled all the right strings like a fucking puppeteer leaving you reactive and generally clueless..
HWC: When your light is low and the blood creeps, when your nerves prick and tingle, when your heart rate drops to a crawl.. Only when your power is depleted, your strength drained, your energy exhausted.. when we feel you pause, as if distracted by a thought.. sense your grip slacken, your will breaking..
Grin finally pulls his hood back, ruffling his mohawk before folding his arms again.
GRIN: Only then will we dig in and go to work.
We're gonna tear you down brick by brick and leave you a pile of rubble.
The Outliers both begin eagerly rubbing their hands together.
GRIN: You're fit to learn the proper meaning of a beatdown.
HWC: That's really the only way we see things playing out. I'm sure you'd disagree but you're just too ignorant and too stupid to read the warning signs. It's simple if you're paying attention. You're so bitter over what yesterday has "taken" from you, that you haven't even thought about what the future holds: your own extinction. After this match you'll just be one step closer to being forgotten. You'll confirm the world's suspicions that you're not ready for these titles, let alone ready to lead the division forward.. that the decision at Coupe De Grace not only made for a supremely convenient scapegoat, but allowed you to sow a seed of doubt even in defeat to try and negate our victory. An opportunity too good to pass up. So you took the easy way out. You were spent.. done.. even after we carried you through the entire match.. you still didn't have the strength to kick out, you only had enough left in the tank to drape your leg over the ropes. You let the ref make the decision for you so you didn't have to look like straight up punks. Just face it boys, that match wasn't going your way and it damn sure wasn't going to end in your favor. The chance came to pull your neck from the noose and you took it. I know we're the ones with the titles on the line but it feels like you have so much more to lose. Like your credibility.. everyone's respect.. your poor, exhausted fan base--disappointed and bored to death.. all that other shit no one cares about, POOF! Up in smoke. And we can't wait to be rid of you. Ugh, especially Rumble, I mean Fumble.
Now's the part when I'm supposed to say, 'This is not the end of your journey but the beginning..' Blah, blah, blah.. 'You were plucked from obscurity to serve a greater purpose..' Yada, yada, whatever.. 'There were successes[holding up the titles] and there were disasters[chuckles]..' But a word of advice moving forward: you're gonna keep crashing if you don't take your eyes off the rear view. What's fun is fun and what's done is done. Your ride on the bullet is over. You reap what you sow and all your fields have overgrown for too long. You are stubborn, tenacious weeds, no doubt, but our scythes are sharper than ever.
static.
Last Edit: Feb 5, 2018 23:55:33 GMT -5 by The Outliers
