Post by Finn Whelan on Jul 13, 2018 22:55:11 GMT -5
I'M UPSET “Got a lot of blood and it's cold; they keep tryna' get me for my soul." ALESSANDRO QUAG-- Wait no, it's DRAKE
•••••
“I couldn’t do it.”
Four words. Four words uttered. Maybe it’s the weight of those four words that seem heavy, sitting upon the air like stagnant breaths taken from the life of a man already worn down.
“I’m back to fucking square one.”
A typical black room, devoid of color entirely, becomes the backdrop for this particular moment in time. The picture is blurred, but the sound of the voice is familiar. The viewer doesn’t need to see the blur clearly to know that the speaker is none other than Finn Whelan. His Irish lilt is defined, and his voice sounds somewhat defeated, if not actually fairly pissed off.
“Seven fucking eliminations. I came in at number five, and I was in there until the very last second. I eliminated Izumi, Devin, fuckin’ Pleasure, your goddamned Battleground Champion Emery Layton, the returning Malcolm Dred-King and your mercenary Caden Walker. And I enjoyed every goddamned second of it. I came into Guerrilla Warfare intending to ensure that people would remember my name. I came because out of everyone in this goddamned company, I’ve put in the work, the effort, the fucking time. All for naught.”
A long pause, a snort of derision.
“Some would sit back, you know? They’d say, ‘why fuckin’ bother?’ Look at the Firing Squad. They came into this company last season, and they eliminated every piece of their competition until the very last second, when The Outliers were able to shut them down and become the Battalion Champions. Look at them this season. Three times, they were taken down by the champions, men who barely show themselves except to fight for those championships and that’s it. Noah Reigner and Rumble Reyes have dominated in every other company they’ve come to, but they couldn’t hack it here?”
Another pause.
“I was a fucking 4CW Champion, and I can’t do it here?”
There’s a metallic thud as if something was hit.
“Bullshit. Maybe the level of competition is steeper, but I don’t think it is.”
The blur moves slightly, moving slowly back and forth.
“No. It’s not -- it's the exact same. It’s not the level of competition. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I sound petulant. Maybe I’m just fucking sick and tired of my talents being apparently wasted in a company that I put most of everything I have into. Maybe I’m sick of being the person who rises to be proclaimed the ‘best’ and then fall short of glory every goddamned time.”
The blur shifts again, rising in the frame.
“After Guerrilla Warfare, when I was walking out of the show, I honestly felt like ripping up my goddamned contract with Union. I know I’m better than this. I know I’m a fighter, I know what I can set myself up for, and it’s never been a failure. Ever since the beginning of time, though, there’s always been someone just slightly better than me, right? There’s always someone better. I almost have it in my grasp every time and then, it’s just kicked out from under me like a board that’s keeping me from dropping into the water and sinking into the bottom of the ocean.
“I feel like I’m getting the consolation prize this week. ‘Aw, Finn, you couldn’t fucking do it so let’s give you an opportunity to put down the someone you’ve shut down twice in the past month. Not only did you fuckin’ eliminate her during the Battle Royal, you also went to the Semi-Finals of the #QuagCup and eliminated her from her opportunity to win prestige.’ I’m talking, of course, about Kimitsu Zombie.”
Finn pauses there, obviously thinking about what he’s going to say. As he speaks, his voice becomes more irritated than it had been before.
“To sit here and say that Kimi is trash would be fallacious. Kimitsu Zombie has come in to every promotion this year and has attempted to take it by storm. I remember seeing her the very first time, back in Epic, where she sat on the Livewire brand, unable to accomplish much. Then, I lost sight of her, until I saw her on 4CW Programming. She didn’t do too hot there, did she? She may be the North American Champion there now, but it took a very, very long time for her to reach that point, didn’t it? Her story there is a clear one-eighty of what it is here in Union. Eleven wins, thirteen losses. Take that to thirteen wins here, three losses, right?”
The image starts to become clearer, though it’s still slightly blurry.
“It’s a completely different story, and I’m not saying that Kimitsu isn’t worthy of who she’s become here. She’s been a brilliant champion, taking out the likes of Annie Zellor, Rogan MacLean and Emery Layton, defeating them both in one go. She has a purpose. A rise. A meaning. She’s down in the trenches now, fighting, pushing herself. Proving herself.
“Maybe I’ve forgotten who I am. Maybe, for a moment, looking at the top of the world and hoping I can be something more than I am isn’t enough. Maybe it’s time to go back to who I used to be: that kid trying to prove himself, week in, week out. That kid who didn’t give a flying fuck what everyone else thought of him. When I was in So-Cal, it was survival of the fittest, and if you didn’t use every resource available to you, you didn’t survive. I rose to prominence there. I became the scene, looking for blood, using every method I could to make sure my opponent didn’t just lose, but left with carnage draped all over them. Veterans, rookies, men, women, it didn’t fucking matter. And maybe it’s time that it doesn’t fucking matter here in Union.”
He chuckles finally, a sound that sounds amused, but really, there’s an underlying batch of anger within it.
“I told you, Kimi, that this time, I’d give you match made of blood. A match where the two of us would go head to head and destroy each other. The bad part about this now is that I’m upset. Nah, I’m fuckin’ livid, and you know what? It’s fueling me right now. It’s all I’ve got, and you know that. I’ve lost my children. I near lost my wife. I have nothing except myself and my fucking pride. It doesn’t matter that I’m twice your height and have seventy-some pounds on you — you’re one of the only people I know right now that can withstand the onslaught that’s about to come your way. While that may be the case, it doesn’t mean I think you’ll survive. It means I think I’m going to slow it down and dismantle you from limb to limb. The only thing that will be left, Kimi, is your lifeless body as you realize that your championship is gone and it’s in the hands of the man you chose to provoke because you thought you had the upper hand.”
Finally, the camera clears entirely to view the Seattle Saint as he stands in front of a metal table. He seems focused, clear of mind.
“You know what’s happened to me in the past week, and I know you think my mind is going to be on that -- you can rest assured that it’s only on you. You and that championship. Talk about my family, Kimi. Say it to my face at the show in Dallas, and watch as I set you on fire. I am done. Do you all fucking hear me now? I’m done. Done playing Nice Finnegan, done playing Panduck. Done being a support. Done being the one sitting with nothing left.” He lifts his hand and clenches his fingers into a fist. “I’ll take it all by force if I have to.”
He drops his shoulders, relaxed, confident. Exhaling, he shakes his head, and then he looks directly to the camera
“Word to the size: I’m not your trash clean-up system, Graves. I’m not going to clear out your weaklings just so you can feel like you’ve given me a purpose. I’m better than this. And I’m better than any fucking Zombie that decides to walk off the wok and into the fire. When I win on L!GHTS OUT!, it’ll be not only to win the Trench War Championship but to keep it in my hands as long as I can. I’m not seeking redemption anymore. There’s none to be had.”
He turns to the metal table behind him, staring at the surface, before he clenches his hands into fists and closes his eyes for a second, exhaling. He looks back up, stone-faced. Prepared.
Post by Kimitsu Zombie on Jul 13, 2018 22:55:50 GMT -5
The din of the street growls at her like a warning. Kimitsu stands in the middle of the street with her eyes closed prolonging the wait. Everything is static as the moment builds. Kimitsu finally opens her eyes, and the roar of the engines around her overwhelm her senses. She is going through with it this way. Two souped up muscle cars crawl up on each side of her. She runs her hands down her body dressed all in red. They purr at the chance to rush forward, but they wait for the signal. Kimitsu walks forward then raises her hand. She looks at each of them with sadness masking her face, then she drops her hand. The cars run off with the built in anticipation of the race. They go straight down the road fighting for position. The car on the left wobbles a bit and seems to be losing control until it straightens out again to attempt to catch its competition. The cares are side by side going full speed. Smoke rises from the engine of car on the left. A small group of men wait at the finish line, and stop talking when the cars come near. Finally both of the cars make it past the finish line in a blur of white, the sound of screeching tires, a thunder of a collision, and the smell of acrid smoke. Fire escapes from the hood of the damaged car. The men on the sidelines break into a fury with an argument brewing over who won. Kimitsu comes by riding sidesaddle on the back of a motorcycle driven by someone in a black helmet. She carries a black briefcase in her hands. She steps off and lights a cigarette as she watches the group argue about which car won the race.
“A match like this one, between Finn Whelan and myself, can have many people talking. Our careers have been separate but ever so closely related. We were two wrestlers running around in similar circles, for related companies for a while. Then by chance alone we found ourselves in the same companies over and over again. Still we just watched each other from the sidelines with maybe a raised eyebrow. There was an interest, and then the inevitable happened in a fly-by-night tournament. We clashed one on one. This match was supposed to be a race for the fastest time in an effort to advance but… things didn’t really work out that way for him when he beat me. I think he knows why.”
Kimitsu walks around the group as they argue and replay videos from their phones. The two drivers wear red helmets and overalls. They stand side by side watching the burning car slammed into the other one, and ignore the group discussing their race. Kimitsu stands beside them. They slowly turn their heads and look at each other before turning back to the burning car.
“We both have that undefeatable sense of self. No matter what happens in our careers we keep on trudging along. When we can’t run we walk, and when we can’t walk, we crawl. Always moving forwards no matter what we lose or sacrifice in our careers. In the grand scheme of this business we have both had our ups and downs. As for me I know what it is to be on top of the world, and what it feels like to have your face in the mud with a boot on the back of your head pushing you down. That was the story of my live until I found that I could fight back with my fists. I found out that it was easy and that it earned you respect or fear. I would take either one as long as I got my way. I came to wrestling and made fighting my career. Then I saw plenty of other people like me. People that love to fight. Some wrestlers do treat this as just another job, but there are a select few that truly enjoy it like I do. I think Whelan is one of those people.”
Kimitsu looks over to the group still arguing and shrugs. She gives the briefcase to the driver on her right, then hugs the both of them. They walk down the road and almost mirror each other in their slow eerie gait. Kimitsu watches them leave her.
“We don’t give up no matter what loses. He claims that losses don’t matter to him, but they sure as fuck matter to me. I hate when I lose. I go out to train and I try to punish that weakness out of myself. I kill the sadness with pills and booze. I rage, and scream at anyone making immediate contact. In short, I vent. When it’s just me versus Whelan, I am coming into this match as a loser. I lost to him in that tournament and to add to that insult everyone also has it in the backs of their minds that he was the one that eliminated me in the Guerilla Warfare rumble. However some other things happened that night…”
Kimitsu walks forward, and parts the group as they look back and notice that the two drivers are gone. They are more concerned with the two cars and run towards them to attempt to put the engine out before the fire gets out of control. Kimitsu leaves them to it.
“The names of the champions rang out at the end of the night. Each name must of rang out in him like a bullet to the head. Each one telling him that it is not his time yet. Despite my setbacks my name was still among them. I may not have gotten a shot at the big main event, but I am still the Trench War Champion. I left Guerrilla Warfare with yet another defense and Finn left with nothing. It added to his shame of being a nobody. His name, once lauded among greats continues to go down. This started a cycle of bad luck that would ruin any normal man. Especially some losses that he won’t be able to recover from.”
Kimitsu looks back to the ruined cars and the drag racers dousing it with a fire hydrant. She turns back.
“His claims of making something of him may yet still prove true, but there is something he is overlooking. Season two is mine. As of Guerilla Warfare I am the one true force in this company. No one else has been as dominant as I have. I come to Union Battleground to release my frustrations on the competition, and that has gotten me the War Horse Medallion, The War Horse Championship, and finally I beat our current Battleground Champion, Emery Layton, to get my Trench War Championship. I am the force that Whelan must defeat in order to fulfill his promises and lofty ass goals. Right now I am still riding that momentum, and I am not going to be giving it up. I am going to protect my name in this company by denying Whelan this opportunity.
This isn’t the Quag Cup; there won’t be a clock to compete with. This isn’t Guerilla Warfare, and it’ll just be the two of us once again. I’m going to give him the blood match he deserves. Unfortunately for him that means that his bad luck is going to continue. Finn Whelan is crawling through the dust of his past glories in the shadow of his former self. He is still going to dare to look down on me, and tell me that I am not at his level. That’s that undying spirit of ours that doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘quit.’ Sometimes that becomes his ego getting in the way. At Lights Out 26 I’m going to be that boot on the back of his head grinding that pretty face of his into the mat. I’ll show him how I protect what’s mines. I’ll still be that dominating force that is now unparallel in Union Battleground. Still, I am not going to take him lightly. Anything can happen in that ring so I won’t be careless. I’ll be savage and methodical. I’ll be ruthless in punishment and surgical in my technique. No one will be able to stop me as long as I have something to lose. This Trench War title will be mine for a long time. It will take a miracle for Finn Whelan to take this off of me. I’ll still be careful because…”
There is a flash, and Kimitsu looks back at the wreckage again. One of the cars is overturned, and lying on top of the other one. The men in the crowd lay the two bodies of the drivers on the ground.
“Accidents do happen.”
Kimitsu walks off. At the last moment before fading away her eyes dart downwards away from the camera.
