Post by Daniel MacNamara on May 4, 2020 19:17:20 GMT -5
“Do you know what company men and chickens in a factory farm have in common?”
Pause. Beat. The tension was palpable, the way that Danny stared at the camera was akin to how a wolf looked at its prey. If there was any denial that he was a MacNamara, then it was spoken from the lips of a madman. Those eyes of his said that much, even given recent events. He spoke with the air of a man telling a joke that only he found particularly funny, his fingers steepled, his elbows planted on the arms of his chair. The room wasn’t exactly quiet, and it was far from darkly lit. This wasn’t his office, there was no NVR Flag in the background, there was none of the usual trappings or settings. He sat there with the NVR Championship across his shoulder, letting it sit there like it always sat there, like a piece of armor draped across him, the golden plate shielding the heart that he’d had to harden against the world.
“No one cares when they’re marched out to be culled on their day of slaughter.”
There it was, the grin that started to surface on his face as he pushed up and out of his chair, the camera panning to follow him to the bar. The place was none other than the alleged headquarters of Genocidal Hate Brigade, the Shut Up and Drink drink joint that was owned and run by none other than Johnny Vachon himself. Yeah, of course Danny was there.
“And just like a chicken, Bryan Williams is willing to fight anyone who takes a step into his territory, regardless of whether or not it's a predator that’s more than willing and capable of ripping him apart and devouring him heart and soul. It’s what Bryan William does. It’s what he’s done in every company that he’s ever been a Company Man for. He’ll make it part of his intrinsic identity and act as gatekeeper, only now Union’s put a championship belt around his waist just like they place rose colored glasses on the chickens so they won’t fucking cannibalize eachother.”
Danny lifted a hand and just pointed at the bottle of whisky with his last name on it, his family’s name, one of their selections. This one? Was a twenty four year old whisky, one that he was all too happy to take from the bartender and unplug, letting it set and breathe.
“He thinks that he’s clever, doesn’t he? Always so quick witted, so swift with a response to show how much he doesn't care about what his opponents say. Ir's almost maddened how The Butcher made a misstep with him in his calculation for victory and failed to snatch it from the grasp of Bryan William’s talons. The Chicken Man won, because he’s good at this. He’s done it before, he’s vicious in his repetition, he knows his territory well because he’s constantly stuck in a loop of becoming the company man of every company he sets foot in.”
That black bottle was lifted, brought to Danny’s nose, and sniffed. The fumes hit him like a brick, but he didn’t register it on his face as he poured it three fingers deep into that glass before the bottle was set aside.
“What I’m curious about, and what I expect several others wonder, is when I beat you, will you stick around to defend that title, or will you leave in a huff and claim that you never even wanted it? Will you dig down deep and find the steel that makes a warrior, or will you pretend that this is just another thing that you don’t care about, because in your mind the one who cares the least is the one who wins?”
Sip. He sat the glass of whisky down as he mulled over the burn that mitigated from his mouth down to his throat.
“See Bryan, I’m a company man too. I’m stupid enough to go and fight time and time again, waving the flag for a company that’s going to give less than a fuck about me when I can no longer fight, but unlike you, I’ve only done this for one company.”
He forced a brief smile to his face.
“I’ve only gone to war for NVR. I’ve only robbed other companies of their name for NVR. Entire stables have stood in my way, Bryan, and they all fell to the wayside because that’s what every one, and everything, does when they’re in my path. They crumble and fall. I’ve only wanted one world title in my life, and I took it just like I took my kingdom, without mercy, and without a single, solitary, drop of doubt in my heart because hesitation would’ve cost me everything. I didn’t just carry me, I carried those I loved. I carry the dreams of those who walked with me, beside me, desperate as I was to see victory.”
Pausing, he slipped the belt from his shoulder and cradled it across his forearms, looking down at it before looking back up.
“..I laid out my dreams before them, to show them, and instead of accepting me, they trampled them, they stomped them. I’ve done one thing for me, and that was to turn and take on Na Fianna, and all of those that I loved so dearly, that I would have protected until I couldn’t have? Wanted to turn on me. They would have ousted me if they had the ability, but they didn’t. They haven’t. You see, the Company Man that I am, I still have a purpose, Bryan, I still have one final use before they can try to find someone skillful enough to wield the knife that they’ll guide into my heart.”
There it was again, the flicker of that ghostly smile that never quite reached his lips.
“You. I have to show the world once more that NVR can take on all comers. I have to do what the champions who held this belt before me couldn’t, I have to make this belt one of the most respected ones in the entire world. I have to beat The Union Battle Champion. I have to beat you, Bryan. It won’t be easy, and it’ll probably be my greatest challenge yet; after all, you beat Dakota for that belt. You’ve held belts in Yamashi, in 4CW. You might be the type to abandon ship, but you’re also the type to rip through people like Roger Moore, a quality that I pride myself on possessing.”
Amused, he adjusted that belt and shifted it back over his shoulder, his now freed up hand taking that glass of whisky, but he didn’t drink it, not yet, he just swished it around the glass before stopping.
“I keep telling people that they can’t beat me because they’re not willing to go far enough, they won’t ascend to the level of violence needed to beat me, that they can’t well and truly break me. That’s why I’ve been excited about this match, Bryan. All those false promises of being the person to beat me. All those decrying me, threatening me, swearing that they’ll be the one to defeat me. Vachon, he failed twice. Holland was left so broken that he had no idea what had happened at the end of the match. Time, and time again, they’ve all lined up and they’ve all failed to deliver.”
He sipped that whisky, paused, and just drained it before swallowing it all down. Tossing that glass aside carelessly, he wiped his mouth and looked back to the camera.
“You though, Bryan. You’re the Company Man. That’s why they’re marching you out to face me. They don’t want another situation like they had with The Butcher. They want you to be their hero in a world where heroes are being slaughtered like sacrificial lambs. They hope that you’ve got enough in you to stop me, to put me down, and save the company that’s willing to send you out to slaughter if you can’t.”
Pause. Beat.
“You can’t beat me. You can’t, because I’m not just representing NVR, I’m representing the new world, the free world, the world where there’s no more heroes, and certainly no more company men for hire. You can judge us however you’d like, the entire lot of you can, but we’ve chosen to be free men, to be ourselves, to do whatever we damn well please because it’s better to be hated than to hate yourself for lying about what you are, for lying about who you are. That's our main difference, I don't lie about what I am."
That’s when he stepped forward, that’s when he got as close to the camera as he could.
“You can’t beat us, Bryan, not in the end. We can do this all day, and all night, and while you’ve been lucky with GHB so far? We only have to be lucky, once.”
With that, the camera cut out.
Pause. Beat. The tension was palpable, the way that Danny stared at the camera was akin to how a wolf looked at its prey. If there was any denial that he was a MacNamara, then it was spoken from the lips of a madman. Those eyes of his said that much, even given recent events. He spoke with the air of a man telling a joke that only he found particularly funny, his fingers steepled, his elbows planted on the arms of his chair. The room wasn’t exactly quiet, and it was far from darkly lit. This wasn’t his office, there was no NVR Flag in the background, there was none of the usual trappings or settings. He sat there with the NVR Championship across his shoulder, letting it sit there like it always sat there, like a piece of armor draped across him, the golden plate shielding the heart that he’d had to harden against the world.
“No one cares when they’re marched out to be culled on their day of slaughter.”
There it was, the grin that started to surface on his face as he pushed up and out of his chair, the camera panning to follow him to the bar. The place was none other than the alleged headquarters of Genocidal Hate Brigade, the Shut Up and Drink drink joint that was owned and run by none other than Johnny Vachon himself. Yeah, of course Danny was there.
“And just like a chicken, Bryan Williams is willing to fight anyone who takes a step into his territory, regardless of whether or not it's a predator that’s more than willing and capable of ripping him apart and devouring him heart and soul. It’s what Bryan William does. It’s what he’s done in every company that he’s ever been a Company Man for. He’ll make it part of his intrinsic identity and act as gatekeeper, only now Union’s put a championship belt around his waist just like they place rose colored glasses on the chickens so they won’t fucking cannibalize eachother.”
Danny lifted a hand and just pointed at the bottle of whisky with his last name on it, his family’s name, one of their selections. This one? Was a twenty four year old whisky, one that he was all too happy to take from the bartender and unplug, letting it set and breathe.
“He thinks that he’s clever, doesn’t he? Always so quick witted, so swift with a response to show how much he doesn't care about what his opponents say. Ir's almost maddened how The Butcher made a misstep with him in his calculation for victory and failed to snatch it from the grasp of Bryan William’s talons. The Chicken Man won, because he’s good at this. He’s done it before, he’s vicious in his repetition, he knows his territory well because he’s constantly stuck in a loop of becoming the company man of every company he sets foot in.”
That black bottle was lifted, brought to Danny’s nose, and sniffed. The fumes hit him like a brick, but he didn’t register it on his face as he poured it three fingers deep into that glass before the bottle was set aside.
“What I’m curious about, and what I expect several others wonder, is when I beat you, will you stick around to defend that title, or will you leave in a huff and claim that you never even wanted it? Will you dig down deep and find the steel that makes a warrior, or will you pretend that this is just another thing that you don’t care about, because in your mind the one who cares the least is the one who wins?”
Sip. He sat the glass of whisky down as he mulled over the burn that mitigated from his mouth down to his throat.
“See Bryan, I’m a company man too. I’m stupid enough to go and fight time and time again, waving the flag for a company that’s going to give less than a fuck about me when I can no longer fight, but unlike you, I’ve only done this for one company.”
He forced a brief smile to his face.
“I’ve only gone to war for NVR. I’ve only robbed other companies of their name for NVR. Entire stables have stood in my way, Bryan, and they all fell to the wayside because that’s what every one, and everything, does when they’re in my path. They crumble and fall. I’ve only wanted one world title in my life, and I took it just like I took my kingdom, without mercy, and without a single, solitary, drop of doubt in my heart because hesitation would’ve cost me everything. I didn’t just carry me, I carried those I loved. I carry the dreams of those who walked with me, beside me, desperate as I was to see victory.”
Pausing, he slipped the belt from his shoulder and cradled it across his forearms, looking down at it before looking back up.
“..I laid out my dreams before them, to show them, and instead of accepting me, they trampled them, they stomped them. I’ve done one thing for me, and that was to turn and take on Na Fianna, and all of those that I loved so dearly, that I would have protected until I couldn’t have? Wanted to turn on me. They would have ousted me if they had the ability, but they didn’t. They haven’t. You see, the Company Man that I am, I still have a purpose, Bryan, I still have one final use before they can try to find someone skillful enough to wield the knife that they’ll guide into my heart.”
There it was again, the flicker of that ghostly smile that never quite reached his lips.
“You. I have to show the world once more that NVR can take on all comers. I have to do what the champions who held this belt before me couldn’t, I have to make this belt one of the most respected ones in the entire world. I have to beat The Union Battle Champion. I have to beat you, Bryan. It won’t be easy, and it’ll probably be my greatest challenge yet; after all, you beat Dakota for that belt. You’ve held belts in Yamashi, in 4CW. You might be the type to abandon ship, but you’re also the type to rip through people like Roger Moore, a quality that I pride myself on possessing.”
Amused, he adjusted that belt and shifted it back over his shoulder, his now freed up hand taking that glass of whisky, but he didn’t drink it, not yet, he just swished it around the glass before stopping.
“I keep telling people that they can’t beat me because they’re not willing to go far enough, they won’t ascend to the level of violence needed to beat me, that they can’t well and truly break me. That’s why I’ve been excited about this match, Bryan. All those false promises of being the person to beat me. All those decrying me, threatening me, swearing that they’ll be the one to defeat me. Vachon, he failed twice. Holland was left so broken that he had no idea what had happened at the end of the match. Time, and time again, they’ve all lined up and they’ve all failed to deliver.”
He sipped that whisky, paused, and just drained it before swallowing it all down. Tossing that glass aside carelessly, he wiped his mouth and looked back to the camera.
“You though, Bryan. You’re the Company Man. That’s why they’re marching you out to face me. They don’t want another situation like they had with The Butcher. They want you to be their hero in a world where heroes are being slaughtered like sacrificial lambs. They hope that you’ve got enough in you to stop me, to put me down, and save the company that’s willing to send you out to slaughter if you can’t.”
Pause. Beat.
“You can’t beat me. You can’t, because I’m not just representing NVR, I’m representing the new world, the free world, the world where there’s no more heroes, and certainly no more company men for hire. You can judge us however you’d like, the entire lot of you can, but we’ve chosen to be free men, to be ourselves, to do whatever we damn well please because it’s better to be hated than to hate yourself for lying about what you are, for lying about who you are. That's our main difference, I don't lie about what I am."
That’s when he stepped forward, that’s when he got as close to the camera as he could.
“You can’t beat us, Bryan, not in the end. We can do this all day, and all night, and while you’ve been lucky with GHB so far? We only have to be lucky, once.”
With that, the camera cut out.