Post by Joe Stanton on May 16, 2018 22:11:46 GMT -5
Music hits the viewer's ears before the scene even opens up properly with a fade in on it, some rundown dive bar that somebody's opted to play some Cash at that's on the outskirts of Chicago. Joe Stanton finds himself for the last few days back home and now he finds himself sitting in this bar, staring at the cage in the center of the bar that's very clearly made from cheap fencing. There's some posters around the place promoting fights happening in that thing.
"Hm."
Stanton glances down at his coke, taking a sip of it.
"A World Champion."
Joe Stanton breaks the fourth wall and looks right at the camera beside him filming, he toasts his drink with a wink to the device.
"Every championship means something to any wrestler worth their salt, even if it's only in hindsight when looking back on their career. But there's just something ingrained in some of us that get a certain feeling when a World Championship is involved, eh?"
The Scarlet Speedster points at the camera with his glass holding hand and he squints when he explains how every title is important to most wrestlers, a grin spreads across his face.
"The word just invokes something. Even if these world championships aren't directly tied to those of old, the name still triggers something in the brains of us that grew up watching wrestling before getting into it. The world championships of old and the champions of old, the good and the bad, the men that felt like something greater than a mere mortal like some deity had descended down upon us from up on high from Mount Olympus or something. The wars that felt like the fate of everything was on the line, done all around the world against every town, every country's best, that the very planets would shake if champion and challenger were not careful with the awesome power they wielded."
That grin grows wider when he expands upon his thoughts, a juxtaposition between his bloodlust and an almost childlike quality creep into his words.
"It's because of this usually wrestlers have one of two reactions when they're stepping into the ring with a world champion. Whether they know the history and actively choose to spit in it or are too ignorant to know, they disrespect what that title means and what it means to be in the position that champion is in and in turn they usually make themselves look foolish in the process. Or, they get so starstruck that they see the modern day world champions as vessels for the world champions of old, like a deity on earth, being possessed by some other worldly thing that demands reverence and in the process they psyche themselves out. I've seen it so many times I'd be here all night trying to count them off if you really wanted to hear them."
Holding up two fingers with his free hand, Joe talks of the two types of reactions for stepping into the ring with a world champion.
"Fact of the matter is, I've been a world champion too, a few times actually, I've been a champion with a synonym thrown in there but at the end of the day it meant world all the same too, I still hold a deep respect for the status but I don't let it blind me from the truth. The truth that I've carried with me all through my near fifteen year career as a professional wrestler, all through my training to become what I am today, all through my childhood with the dream of what I am today, the truth I've carried with me since the first world championship match I watched at home as a child in the family den. It's one of those moments that sticks with you, that sits in the back of your head, hell I'm sure people way more qualified than I would maybe even say it's the sort of thing that shapes who you are growing up. Because as I sat in front of that glow, watching two monolithic titans fight for fifteen pounds of gold one thing entered my head in among all of the excitement and thrill I felt."
Shrugging his shoulders indifferently, Joe glosses over his history with world championships in an attempt to not make this into a bragging session. That isn't what this is about. He takes a sip and speaks earnestly, keeping his eyes fixed on the cage till he pauses at the very end and it's then that he turns to look at the camera.
"Gods don't bleed."
The Scarlet Speedster says with an unexpected level of growl.
"It's always been there, that thought, in the back of my mind and especially whenever I see some new fella walk in claiming to be a GOD or the DEVIL or whatever they want to try to market themselves as. Gods don't bleed, but they most assuredly will at some point. And, it's why I have a hard time fearing any man or woman that walks this earth because they're as mortal as me or you. It's why while I might be put against someone that is ridiculously talented in some way as a professional wrestler, I relish the opportunity. I welcome the challenge with arms wide open."
He taps at the back of his head when he talks about the thought. In a rather jovial manner he jokes about the monikers that people develop for themselves. That grin never once leaving his face when he talks about what stepping into the ring with someone of a world champion caliber means to someone like him.
"Because say I don't win, hey, it was a learning experience so that I'm just that much better for next time I wrestle, I take something from somebody that is just that good. Say I do win, I probably got myself one hell of a time along the way. And a learning experience in there somewhere regardless of the victory."
Stanton shrugs his shoulders and he casually talks about a loss to a world champion caliber opponent. He shrugs again when he talks about defeating them.
"Finn Whelan, you're good, but do I really even need to say that at this point? The accolade speaks for itself, your track record in Union Battleground speaks for itself, and you most assuredly speak for yourself in your promotional material let me tell you what. Anyone with half a brain that's been paying attention to here would know who you are and what you are capable of, and so they might be thinking I'm a bigger underdog here than against any of the hosses like Rumble Reyes or Caden that this promotion's thrown my way to see if I can knock them down or against the Michael Hayden's & Mark Storm's of the industry. That I'm being thrown into the deep end of the roster, and that this is going to be just another Finn Whelan Union Battleground Match like practically every single one of them that's come before they put my name next to yours."
Jabbing a finger at the lens to emphasize his compliment, Stanton explains why it's hardly even necessary on his part to vocalize praise. He's genuine in the respect he has for the other man and only when talking about the match itself does he have a manner of gallows humor about it. His right hand starts shaking the glass he's holding and so the Scarlet Speedster sets it down on the table behind him. The shaking continues in his hand, spreading down the arm gradually.
"And I'm..."
It's with his shaking right hand that he takes hold of the back of the chair, using it to stand up and the shaking spreads to more of his body. His right hand clasps onto his face, obscuring it from the viewer and he leans forward as if he might be about to...cry?
"Absolutely thrilled at the thought of it."
The grin's now spread so wide that it's peeking out from underneath his fingers, looking a tinge unsettling with the bloodlust etched in it. It's this tinge that's in his green eyes when they stare into the camera when his hand leaves his face.
"Bring your cerebral dissection of the situation, bring your all of that skill that got you just shy of toppling the juggernaut that was Emery Layton, bring the oblivion that you sent Johnny Vachon into, bring your revelation, bring all of it!"
There's an obvious thirst for battle in his voice when he interrupts some folks evening in this dive by pointing and gesturing for Finn Whelan to bring everything. His body twitching and shaking in anticipation at the thought of squaring up with Finn. A devilish gleam in his eye.
"And, let's have a fucking fight!"
The Scarlet Speedster declares and punches the camera with his right hand for an abrupt fade to black.
Post by Finn Whelan on May 17, 2018 9:59:58 GMT -5
DEFINITION OF . . .
“To define a thing is to substitute the definition for the thing itself.”
Georges Braque
•••••
The crowd of the 3Arena was still audible from the backstage hallways that create a maze; it’d been a night packed with craziness. Emotions ran high, titles traded hands. Kimitsu was the new Trench War Champion. Salvation covered half of the titles now in the Battleground, leaving a true dissension amongst the rest of the locker room. Was there any way of removing their bonds, of unclenching their jaws before they chopped on the bit and destroyed Union Battleground from the inside out?
Maybe. Maybe not. But there was one thing that could be certain, and that was the fact that Finn Whelan had not only retained, but he’d rid the Battleground of a lackluster competitor that couldn’t even find his way out of a zero-and-four record.
“Look at you...no-one’s going to have a reason to be mad at you back at the Headquarters.” Elena DeDraca, one of the Battleground’s newest signees, sat on top of an equipment crate as her sibling turned the corner.
There were a bit of similarities between them. Their eyes, though different colors, were the same shape and their hair matched without the use of color. Yet it was not just in looks that they were the same. Elena and Finn had the same work ethic, the same drive, the same desires when they stood in front of the crowd: to do their best, and if someone got injured in the process, oh well.
Finn snorted, looking at the silver plated belt on his shoulder. His name hadn’t moved. It wouldn’t be for a long time if he had anything he could say about it. But a second later, he thrust it into Elena’s hands.
“I’m not your donkey, Finnegan.” She chided him, smacking him on the back of his head, eliciting a slight groan from him.
“Put it with yours.” He said, regardless of her words. “You know, that’s what confuses the fuck out of me.”
“You. Confused.” She was amused, even a bit incredulous. Confusion and Finn never quite went together. The man had always figured out things for himself before most people were up for breakfast. Finn was a fast thinker -- he had to be, living the life he did before he’d become who he was now. A competitor. A fighter. Not the trash living on the street, unable to do anything for himself.
“Yeah.” He nodded his head. He put a finger on this title. “I didn’t come into this company stating I was a champion. I didn’t ride on my accolades.” He flicked the tip of his name, etched into the bottom of the main graphic. “When I came in, they said: you want in on the tournament? I said, ‘fuck yes’, because I enjoy the challenge. The focus. But I never once put in the word ‘champion’. It’s not my style, sis. You know that.”
“Your reputation precedes you, and you know that. Whether you are World, midcard, low-card...every championship matters.”
“No.” Finn shook his head. “I know the Battleground’s thing is that we place contested matches for championships from companies across the board to elevate them. But Axel said it best to Emery Layton a few weeks ago -- it’s a worry to set a championship in the hands of someone that will go out there and defend it wherever and constantly have to wonder if they’re going to drop the ball. I put my title up on the line because I knew a greedy slob like Vachon would at least try a bit harder than last time if there was something in it for him. But it’s not who I want to be.”
Elena cocked her head to the side, looking at her brother. He wasn’t making much sense at all. He turned his head and looked at her then.
“Championships. Accolades. They don’t matter if it’s not within the company. It’s why I don’t bring this with me on a regular basis. Am I ashamed of it? No. I've fought tooth and nail, thrice now, to keep this championship against a man whom not only hates my guts and is jealous of the fact that I was able to succeed against him just like my mentor and my sibling, but also against someone whose eyes were only made for dollar signs to waste on booze. I'm a World Champion. But I’m not the Battleground Champion.” He lifts his hand and ticks it off his fingers. “I’m not the King Cobra. I’m not the Trench War Champion. I don’t have tag titles. I’m not the Octane Champion, or the Ignition Champion at Four Corners. I am beltless, championship-less. But destructive.”
“I don’t want my accolades to be what people know from elsewhere. I want my skills to be noted because of what I’ve done here. Fought toe to toe with the Battleground’s best Pavee, faced one of the world’s best in McKenna, fought Rodney Stillwater, took out an acclaimed veteran, taught a lesson to a rookie.” He shakes his head. “It’s not what I do in any other company that matters. It is what I do here. And I’ve heard it. I’ve seen it. I’m known for here. The roster knows me here. But this.” He taps his title once more. “This doesn’t define me.”
•••••
Ever feel like you’ve been chained to something? Whether they’re invisible, real, or purely fictitious, created by the mind, chains will bind you, break you and decimate you if you let them. Words are chains. Accolades are chains. Championships are chains. If we look at someone for what they’ve done in the past, we don’t look at what they could do in the future. And thus we’ve chained ourselves into a frame of mind in which not one person can change.
I don’t do that. I haven't done that since episode seventeen and I won’t do that even now, matches and matches into the company. I won’t chain myself into a product of my own ego, a product of my Id. Anyone can rise. Anyone can fall. Myself, Salvation, Alyssa Daniels . . . it matters not what we have done, but who we are. Isn’t that right, Stanton?
My name is Finn Whelan. But you know that because you’re sitting here, interested in the words that come out of my mouth. But I question you a couple things, and I want you to think about it before you answer. What defines you?
I have an answer for myself, so while you’re thinking about it, take a moment to listen. My accolades don’t define me. My championship doesn’t define me. It’s the same everywhere I go. ‘Who the fuck is this kid?’ comes out of the mouth of my first opponent every single time. Terry McKenna asked why the fuck he had to share the spotlight with a nobody. Courtney Leinart -- god bless her poor soul -- demanded that she be moved from having to face this piece of trash. DeMarcus Gresham looked at my accolades and thought he had everything in the bag. Every. Single. Person. They say the same thing.
I went out there and told them who I was. Phoenix Wrestling, I snapped the arm of a veteran. So-Cal Ultraviolent, I went up against the well-known combination of Tommy Knox and Jason Cashe and I still prevailed. WWH, I went from a nobody to the winner of a tournament that everyone said I wouldn’t succeed. EPIC? Undefeated, and probably would have had the championship had the company not folded.
Why?
I am an ever-changing competitor, Stanton. And I want you to know that. It’s the one thing that everyone takes for granted. You look at a list of accomplishments, you look at who that person is when you’re ordered to face them, and you think you know someone from that alone.
You don’t know me.
It doesn’t matter who it is or what I’ve done in the past. The here and the now is what matters. Union Battleground deserves someone who is going to put the same effort in here as they will everywhere else. I am in three companies. I put my heart into every single match, every single second of my career. One doesn’t supersede the other. They all are me, and they all define me.
The definition of a champion doesn’t begin with someone who has a belt. It is someone who puts their effort in every time. Maybe they don’t have it once. Maybe they don’t have it twice. I don’t need accolades for you to know who I am. I don’t need you to think you know either, because in the end, the Finn Whelan you get out there is going to be an ever-changing fighter. If there is anything you can count on...it’s that.
I’ll see you in South Africa. As always...good luck.
[FIN] WORD COUNT: 1498 OOC: Again, I am so sorry for missing deadline. But here it is -- figured I'd post regardless. lol
