Post by Dave D-Flipz on Jul 18, 2020 20:50:12 GMT -5
I activate the camera and sit in front of it. It is zoomed uncomfortably close on my face … I’ll have the post-production team clip out the part where I sit, I need the visual effect though.
“Look in my eyes … what do you see?”
I give a moment for the statement to breathe and for people to pay attention. My eyes are certainly big and bright in the center of the frame for any viewers on the network.
“Do you see brown irises on white sclera? Or do you see something a little more? They say eyes are the windows to the soul. I don’t know if I believe that but in the ring I know you can learn a whole lot from someone’s eyes. The way they look can betray what they say or how they act. The eyes …well they are a lot more honest than the mouth ever could be. It takes a lot to find eyes that can lie the way some of these people in the XHF can consistently do with their mouths.”
I smirk, of course with the camera only on my eyes it would take a person who is quite observant to see the subtle shift in my eyes and discern I am doing so. So much is being said by all these men in the match and while I know my words are going to finally bring about a deluge on myself, my eyes tell the camera that I am certainly not a fan of being so ignored so early in this promo cycle. People have already written me off. But that makes me dangerous. They want a reason to say something to me? They want a reason to pay attention? Well I aim to give it to them. After all, it is my aura, my modus operandi. Get all the eyes … on me. Make them see me and look where I want them to, observe what I want them to.
“Look into my eyes. You know what you are looking at? Anticipation. Desire. Determination. You are seeing into the heart of a man who has poured his very being into that ring for the love of the game and the adoration of the people at home. You see the fire that consistently burns in my heart. My eyes radiate the passion that drives someone to get back into the ring that nearly cost him his everything … because it still means everything to him. You see a ferocity that drives me to consistently be better than I was and to push my body past its limits to new uncharted lands. Come … look into my eyes … and join in MY vision. Follow MY quest. Bask in my…”
Wait … let’s not steal people’s material. They get the point. It’s all about controlling the narrative for these people. Make the fans and foes see you as you want to be seen. For me? I don’t need that. I just need them to pay attention, to see me … to give me the driving fuel to keep going, to push farther than anyone else. Rob Arnold comes out of retirement and wins the X*Crown, or comes back now to try again … and everyone just nods and agrees it fits. Dylan chases his glory through violence in a manic, bi-polar sort of split persona approach and everyone just nods and agrees it’s a logical thing to see. Ryan Young foists himself on the main event despite not proving he even deserved the shot to be here in the first place other than AWF handing it to him on a silver platter and everyone buys in. Yuki comes in with her belt and her king’s head on a metaphorical platter and everyone is in awe of her taking that next step. Rat Bastard comes back from whatever hole he has been hiding in and connives his way back into the picture and everyone just shrugs because it’s what he always manages to do. Gordon Carlson comes here to prove his fed and his past are worthy of notice and everyone cheers and applauds the underdog story.
“… my unappreciated brilliance. You see people all love the underdog story or the big names chasing glory. They expect and anticipate it. But you see me come back onto the global stage and everyone gets shocked! He doesn’t belong here! He was a vegetable! He shopped for veggies at Home Depot! He lost to a corpse being wheeled around by a drunk! He’s FORTY! I’ve heard it all but what I haven’t heard … is the people saying they KNEW I’d be back. Those who believed I’d be on the top of the food chain again. Despite two world title wins over a man as violent and strong as Eichi Yamaguchi and a man as accomplished as Jason Justice, people are still in disbelief that a man consistently referred to as a legend and one of the best wrestlers in the XHF is somehow … the best wrestler in the XHF Network. And that hurts because I have worked long and hard to put my name in that conversation. So again … I invite you … to look into my eyes, see into my very heart … and see what I truly am.”
I furrow my brow as I contemplate the people who have looked past me and beyond me. They see me as no threat and not worth their time. But I know the truth. With my focus locked in, my willpower at a maximum, and my legion of fans behind me, I can become unstoppable. It’s all about getting people to see you as you want them to see you, to become more, to lead and get people to willingly follow. Direct the conversation, control the flow of information, demand that the attention be focused on you and where you want.
“There are some who avert their eyes from the truth. Dylan Black. His whole career has been like one bad improve session. He became the Anomoly to get everyone to buy into him as a contender … and all he did was get people to wish he’d keep his goddamned face covered. Legions of British XHF fans will forever be crippled in spelling because Dylan couldn’t be assed to check a dictionary when learning a new word! And it’s hilarious because the Anomoly was truly an anomaly. He was brilliant for one shining run. Everyone keeps harping on Dylan that he should just BE Anomoly because that was when he was successful. But once he lost that title … everything crashed to the ground. The aura of invincibility was gone. The people saw who he truly was. An anomaly, a lucky blip. It’s like Brady Anderson, everyone remembers that crazy year he hit 50 HR and was the fuel for the Orioles … but he was never anything but average outside that one good run.”
Not to take anything away, that championship run WAS solid. But Curtis Kanyon and Anthony Caffrey made sure he never saw that level of influence again. And now Dylan just tries talking his way into the picture. He rides the high of that one run and hopes everyone forgets that even as Anomoly he sucked once he lost the title.
“Dylan wants you to buy into him as a threat. He wants you to see him as the man he was that one time. And a big win over Swann is supposed to make us buy all in. But his control of the information flow is a bit lackluster.”
I zoom the camera back so you can see me holding my bowler hat in my hand and pull a piece of paper out of it.
“Hmm … Obvious Liars. ‘I am not a crook!’ BUZZ … ‘I did not have sexual relations with that woman!’ BUZZ … ‘You can’t get under my skin, I’m too tranquilo, NOW WATCH ME YELL AND BITCH ABOUT THESE THINGS YOU SAID THAT ANNOY ME!!!!’BUZZ… So convincing Dylan. We all totally believe that you are a scion of peace and tranquility! Really showing that Viper blood within you ya know! Chip off the old block you are.”
Maybe I should shout at the strip of paper to drive home the point … I decide to just put my hat back on my head and zoom the camera out to show myself seated in a hotel gym in … whatever city we are in for Master Clash … cross-legged on the unusually comfortable carpeted floor. Why have carpeting in a gym anyway? It’s as sensible as a screen door on a submarine.
“Dylan, it’s ok. People call me a joke too. It’s a standard insult around here. They say my hat looks stupid, but they’re all talking about it instead of focusing on my submission skills. Trust me you aren’t a joke. People actually enjoy jokes. It’s ok Dylan. I know your anger … and I know your dreams. You rage against the machine hoping someone notices you and admires your successes. Steeped in violence and brutality. But I’ve been everything you want to be. I’ve been and still am on top of the world. I am the one holding the titles. I am the one controlling the narrative. You can talk your way around it all you want but in the end you all have to come to ME to take this from me. You need to get through me. And to do that you have to play my game. You have to step into MY world and find out if you can be the one to break me or if you wind up tapping out like everyone else who steps up to me. So bring the bat, put on the mask, and get in line because only you can set you free.”
I take a moment to breathe and reset myself. I listen to my breathing and open my eyes to the camera again.
“For some people, controlling the narrative comes naturally. An effortless activity to spin any result to fit your view and what you want people to take from it. Some people just have that aura about them that makes people listen to what they say and give it more credence than it probably deserves. Rat Bastard … you and I go way back … and as I recall it isn’t a favorable relationship for me. Anyone who knows you well knows not to sleep on you in any match.”
I’d say with you also but that has been done to death. It’s old hat.
“You have this way about you. You’ve been back in AWF for a bit now and you have a reputation as one of their better guys … and yet as we keep hearing from all your opponents … you’re old. You lose a lot. It’s like they don’t see the cogs turning in your brain. But I see through you. Choosing your battles, knowing which victories are real victories and which aren’t worth breaking yourself over. You are the single most conniving son of a bitch I’ve ever encountered. You simultaneously manage to repulse and enthrall people. You somehow manage to be the guy who DOES lose a ton and yet always at the top of the card and in people’s heads. But I get it. It’s not that you don’t care or that you can’t still bring it as evidenced by powering right through Caffrey. No it’s all a part of the aura of Rat Bastard. The title histories and people’s memories say you are one of the top guys ever, the win loss records say … Meh. But that’s the point. You need people to underestimate you while simultaneously knowing to watch their freaking backs. You aren’t the most talented guy, the most powerful guy, the most technically sound guy. You aren’t the loudest talker or the quietest. You sit right in that sweet spot where you can get under people’s skin and make it crawl while also being just enough on the periphery to be able to still twist the knife in their spine.”
Frankly it’s amazing you can do it, even I am in awe. But I am familiar with the antics now. I know how good you can be … and what your limits are. I know that you need to be on the radar at all times, and never trusted, but that unless I lose track of you or make the mistake of trusting you … I can outclass you. I am a better technician, I am a ring general, and I don’t know the meaning of quit. And after all these years … the gross out and shock antics just don’t work on me anymore.
“The key is to take you head on Ratty. Don’t let you get into the periphery, don’t let you play the games. And if the crowd in this match were smart you’d be the first one taken out. Because while a bunch of us individually are more dangerous at any given point … the longer you stay the easier it becomes to weasel your way to a cheap shot. Like you did with Scorpion. Robbed everyone of the match they wanted to see just to get your kicks and cripple ONE guy for shits and giggles. And all because you put together a team that didn’t need you. A team that could carry you to the top without you being involved. So you took the easy way out without ever having to get beat up or hurt. You got exactly what you wanted by getting Dylan, Hype, Jack and Steve to buy into what Rat was selling. I see you Rat. I get it.”
The truth is that Rat may just be the most dangerous guy in this match. He’s wild, unpredictable, plays by his own set of rules that changes on the daily. Dylan is predictable, Carlson is new to us but a definable property, Rob Arnold is Rob fucking Arnold, and Yuki may look new but is the same old person. But Rat … Rat is an enigma. I shift in my seat as I try to cobble plans together. Every one of them ends with me making sure to get him down first. Make an example of him before he breaks bad.
“You can do it Rat, I know this more than anyone else in this match. You can pull off this historic win. But you WON’T do it. I won’t allow it. I will stand in your way and finally get my measure of revenge and write my own history. You are all after MY title. You are all in the pages of a book I am writing. This is MY history being made. And I intend to win because to the victor goes the spoils … and history is written by the winners. When all is said and done Ratty, your aura will be broken. You will be the exposed fraud. And I will still be… your X*Crown Champion. YOUR … X*Crown Champion.”
Speaking of auras… wait I hear something. Is someone in the room? I smell parchment … like old books. What’s that sloshing…
*SPLOOOOOOOOSH!*
"GAH BY GOD THAT’S COLD AND WET! … My pants are moist."
"Death Trap you are worrying me. You keep just staring off into the distance in between speeches. It is disconcerting and the fan club does not like it."
"BUT WHY SOAK ME WITH WATER?? I was in my head like you showed me, focusing. I was hearing my own inner voice."
"And nobody else can hear your inner voice if you don’t say it out loud so what is the point of promoting the match if half of your thoughts are silent? How can fans know your thoughts? Do you think the XHF Network employees can just read your mind?"
"I mean … maybe! But it got me through my trauma! I was in a groove."
"I am certainly glad my therapy helped but you are using it wrong and everyone is annoyed. Everything you do just seems … blue. It lacks your usual energy because you are holding the energetic thoughts in your head and then acting as if you said them! It is certainly unique and Avant-garde but it is not normal. So stop that. And talk about Rob Arnold normally or I shall be back."
"But … my match focus!"
"Use it for the MATCHES. I will get the whip Chaos packed so help me …"
"Yes ma’am."
*She walks away out of the hotel gym and leaves him sitting on the floor dripping wet. He pulls his hat off and wrings it out then stands up.*
"That’s certainly one way to wake from a meditative state of focus … or a dream. Speaking of dreams … ha still got the segue. Rob Arnold … been having some bad dreams lately huh? Yeah I can relate to that. If my moustache looked that much like a cartoon villain’s I’d be worried too. You should try a new look … maybe a nice hat …"
*He puts his hat back over his head, tucking the now drooping soggy spikes at the front under it and then tips it to the camera*
"Not quite the level of nightmare Leon Chant has had now that he’s managed to lose to me twice after looking so good and coming so close right? I’m sure he’s so happy you decided to step in and make me want to win even more than I already did. Great friend you are."
*He sits down on a weight bench to a loud SQUISH sound. His eyes go wide as he looks down and sighs*
"Anyway Rob, you and I haven’t met in the ring but that is about to change. And it’s clear to me from all the rumblings I’m hearing that you have the population enthralled and eating out of your hand. It takes some kind of reputation and aura to get that recognition and be considered more of a favorite to win than me. You, having had one match in over a year and gotten beaten by the same guys who beat us … in our THIRD match … and me, a double champion and hardest working wrestler in XHF today. Nobody’s schedule is rougher than MCCW and nobody in MCCW does as many extra events as me. And yet all I keep hearing from fans and wrestlers alike is how Rob Fucking Arnold is back and is going to bring the hurting to everyone. It’s amazing. All the work I put in and just your name and reputation is enough to put you in everyone’s top spots. You keep coming Rob, I don’t need to stop you coming to the match … I just need to make sure you keep right on moving back home and out of my hair."
*He leans over towards the camera*
"Let me let you in on a little secret Rob. It feels pretty good to be the top dog again. Feels even better after fifteen long years. Feels even better when I can keep proving people wrong and giving the fans that surprise pop they love to give when I do the unthinkable. Like defend my titles and choke out such legendary names as Rat Bastard and Rob Arnold. It’s Night of Champions Rob. And I am the champion. I am the Main Attraction. And I intend to snap all these other wrestlers and naysayers out of their hazed and expose you and Rat and Dylan for what you are. I intend to dismantle your cult of personality. And let everyone soak in the brilliance that is Death Trap. Still … your XHF X*Crown Champion. Overcoming all the odds, all the predictions, all the naysayers, all the threats, and all the crazy bullshit. Outlasting all 6 other people in this match and making every one of you tap out. Why? Because Rob. It’s what I do."
*He walks out of the gym, squishing with every step from the water.*
"My goddamn underwear is soggy… "
*We fade out as he closes the door and heads off to his room*
“Look in my eyes … what do you see?”
I give a moment for the statement to breathe and for people to pay attention. My eyes are certainly big and bright in the center of the frame for any viewers on the network.
“Do you see brown irises on white sclera? Or do you see something a little more? They say eyes are the windows to the soul. I don’t know if I believe that but in the ring I know you can learn a whole lot from someone’s eyes. The way they look can betray what they say or how they act. The eyes …well they are a lot more honest than the mouth ever could be. It takes a lot to find eyes that can lie the way some of these people in the XHF can consistently do with their mouths.”
I smirk, of course with the camera only on my eyes it would take a person who is quite observant to see the subtle shift in my eyes and discern I am doing so. So much is being said by all these men in the match and while I know my words are going to finally bring about a deluge on myself, my eyes tell the camera that I am certainly not a fan of being so ignored so early in this promo cycle. People have already written me off. But that makes me dangerous. They want a reason to say something to me? They want a reason to pay attention? Well I aim to give it to them. After all, it is my aura, my modus operandi. Get all the eyes … on me. Make them see me and look where I want them to, observe what I want them to.
“Look into my eyes. You know what you are looking at? Anticipation. Desire. Determination. You are seeing into the heart of a man who has poured his very being into that ring for the love of the game and the adoration of the people at home. You see the fire that consistently burns in my heart. My eyes radiate the passion that drives someone to get back into the ring that nearly cost him his everything … because it still means everything to him. You see a ferocity that drives me to consistently be better than I was and to push my body past its limits to new uncharted lands. Come … look into my eyes … and join in MY vision. Follow MY quest. Bask in my…”
Wait … let’s not steal people’s material. They get the point. It’s all about controlling the narrative for these people. Make the fans and foes see you as you want to be seen. For me? I don’t need that. I just need them to pay attention, to see me … to give me the driving fuel to keep going, to push farther than anyone else. Rob Arnold comes out of retirement and wins the X*Crown, or comes back now to try again … and everyone just nods and agrees it fits. Dylan chases his glory through violence in a manic, bi-polar sort of split persona approach and everyone just nods and agrees it’s a logical thing to see. Ryan Young foists himself on the main event despite not proving he even deserved the shot to be here in the first place other than AWF handing it to him on a silver platter and everyone buys in. Yuki comes in with her belt and her king’s head on a metaphorical platter and everyone is in awe of her taking that next step. Rat Bastard comes back from whatever hole he has been hiding in and connives his way back into the picture and everyone just shrugs because it’s what he always manages to do. Gordon Carlson comes here to prove his fed and his past are worthy of notice and everyone cheers and applauds the underdog story.
“… my unappreciated brilliance. You see people all love the underdog story or the big names chasing glory. They expect and anticipate it. But you see me come back onto the global stage and everyone gets shocked! He doesn’t belong here! He was a vegetable! He shopped for veggies at Home Depot! He lost to a corpse being wheeled around by a drunk! He’s FORTY! I’ve heard it all but what I haven’t heard … is the people saying they KNEW I’d be back. Those who believed I’d be on the top of the food chain again. Despite two world title wins over a man as violent and strong as Eichi Yamaguchi and a man as accomplished as Jason Justice, people are still in disbelief that a man consistently referred to as a legend and one of the best wrestlers in the XHF is somehow … the best wrestler in the XHF Network. And that hurts because I have worked long and hard to put my name in that conversation. So again … I invite you … to look into my eyes, see into my very heart … and see what I truly am.”
I furrow my brow as I contemplate the people who have looked past me and beyond me. They see me as no threat and not worth their time. But I know the truth. With my focus locked in, my willpower at a maximum, and my legion of fans behind me, I can become unstoppable. It’s all about getting people to see you as you want them to see you, to become more, to lead and get people to willingly follow. Direct the conversation, control the flow of information, demand that the attention be focused on you and where you want.
“There are some who avert their eyes from the truth. Dylan Black. His whole career has been like one bad improve session. He became the Anomoly to get everyone to buy into him as a contender … and all he did was get people to wish he’d keep his goddamned face covered. Legions of British XHF fans will forever be crippled in spelling because Dylan couldn’t be assed to check a dictionary when learning a new word! And it’s hilarious because the Anomoly was truly an anomaly. He was brilliant for one shining run. Everyone keeps harping on Dylan that he should just BE Anomoly because that was when he was successful. But once he lost that title … everything crashed to the ground. The aura of invincibility was gone. The people saw who he truly was. An anomaly, a lucky blip. It’s like Brady Anderson, everyone remembers that crazy year he hit 50 HR and was the fuel for the Orioles … but he was never anything but average outside that one good run.”
Not to take anything away, that championship run WAS solid. But Curtis Kanyon and Anthony Caffrey made sure he never saw that level of influence again. And now Dylan just tries talking his way into the picture. He rides the high of that one run and hopes everyone forgets that even as Anomoly he sucked once he lost the title.
“Dylan wants you to buy into him as a threat. He wants you to see him as the man he was that one time. And a big win over Swann is supposed to make us buy all in. But his control of the information flow is a bit lackluster.”
I zoom the camera back so you can see me holding my bowler hat in my hand and pull a piece of paper out of it.
“Hmm … Obvious Liars. ‘I am not a crook!’ BUZZ … ‘I did not have sexual relations with that woman!’ BUZZ … ‘You can’t get under my skin, I’m too tranquilo, NOW WATCH ME YELL AND BITCH ABOUT THESE THINGS YOU SAID THAT ANNOY ME!!!!’BUZZ… So convincing Dylan. We all totally believe that you are a scion of peace and tranquility! Really showing that Viper blood within you ya know! Chip off the old block you are.”
Maybe I should shout at the strip of paper to drive home the point … I decide to just put my hat back on my head and zoom the camera out to show myself seated in a hotel gym in … whatever city we are in for Master Clash … cross-legged on the unusually comfortable carpeted floor. Why have carpeting in a gym anyway? It’s as sensible as a screen door on a submarine.
“Dylan, it’s ok. People call me a joke too. It’s a standard insult around here. They say my hat looks stupid, but they’re all talking about it instead of focusing on my submission skills. Trust me you aren’t a joke. People actually enjoy jokes. It’s ok Dylan. I know your anger … and I know your dreams. You rage against the machine hoping someone notices you and admires your successes. Steeped in violence and brutality. But I’ve been everything you want to be. I’ve been and still am on top of the world. I am the one holding the titles. I am the one controlling the narrative. You can talk your way around it all you want but in the end you all have to come to ME to take this from me. You need to get through me. And to do that you have to play my game. You have to step into MY world and find out if you can be the one to break me or if you wind up tapping out like everyone else who steps up to me. So bring the bat, put on the mask, and get in line because only you can set you free.”
I take a moment to breathe and reset myself. I listen to my breathing and open my eyes to the camera again.
“For some people, controlling the narrative comes naturally. An effortless activity to spin any result to fit your view and what you want people to take from it. Some people just have that aura about them that makes people listen to what they say and give it more credence than it probably deserves. Rat Bastard … you and I go way back … and as I recall it isn’t a favorable relationship for me. Anyone who knows you well knows not to sleep on you in any match.”
I’d say with you also but that has been done to death. It’s old hat.
“You have this way about you. You’ve been back in AWF for a bit now and you have a reputation as one of their better guys … and yet as we keep hearing from all your opponents … you’re old. You lose a lot. It’s like they don’t see the cogs turning in your brain. But I see through you. Choosing your battles, knowing which victories are real victories and which aren’t worth breaking yourself over. You are the single most conniving son of a bitch I’ve ever encountered. You simultaneously manage to repulse and enthrall people. You somehow manage to be the guy who DOES lose a ton and yet always at the top of the card and in people’s heads. But I get it. It’s not that you don’t care or that you can’t still bring it as evidenced by powering right through Caffrey. No it’s all a part of the aura of Rat Bastard. The title histories and people’s memories say you are one of the top guys ever, the win loss records say … Meh. But that’s the point. You need people to underestimate you while simultaneously knowing to watch their freaking backs. You aren’t the most talented guy, the most powerful guy, the most technically sound guy. You aren’t the loudest talker or the quietest. You sit right in that sweet spot where you can get under people’s skin and make it crawl while also being just enough on the periphery to be able to still twist the knife in their spine.”
Frankly it’s amazing you can do it, even I am in awe. But I am familiar with the antics now. I know how good you can be … and what your limits are. I know that you need to be on the radar at all times, and never trusted, but that unless I lose track of you or make the mistake of trusting you … I can outclass you. I am a better technician, I am a ring general, and I don’t know the meaning of quit. And after all these years … the gross out and shock antics just don’t work on me anymore.
“The key is to take you head on Ratty. Don’t let you get into the periphery, don’t let you play the games. And if the crowd in this match were smart you’d be the first one taken out. Because while a bunch of us individually are more dangerous at any given point … the longer you stay the easier it becomes to weasel your way to a cheap shot. Like you did with Scorpion. Robbed everyone of the match they wanted to see just to get your kicks and cripple ONE guy for shits and giggles. And all because you put together a team that didn’t need you. A team that could carry you to the top without you being involved. So you took the easy way out without ever having to get beat up or hurt. You got exactly what you wanted by getting Dylan, Hype, Jack and Steve to buy into what Rat was selling. I see you Rat. I get it.”
The truth is that Rat may just be the most dangerous guy in this match. He’s wild, unpredictable, plays by his own set of rules that changes on the daily. Dylan is predictable, Carlson is new to us but a definable property, Rob Arnold is Rob fucking Arnold, and Yuki may look new but is the same old person. But Rat … Rat is an enigma. I shift in my seat as I try to cobble plans together. Every one of them ends with me making sure to get him down first. Make an example of him before he breaks bad.
“You can do it Rat, I know this more than anyone else in this match. You can pull off this historic win. But you WON’T do it. I won’t allow it. I will stand in your way and finally get my measure of revenge and write my own history. You are all after MY title. You are all in the pages of a book I am writing. This is MY history being made. And I intend to win because to the victor goes the spoils … and history is written by the winners. When all is said and done Ratty, your aura will be broken. You will be the exposed fraud. And I will still be… your X*Crown Champion. YOUR … X*Crown Champion.”
Speaking of auras… wait I hear something. Is someone in the room? I smell parchment … like old books. What’s that sloshing…
*SPLOOOOOOOOSH!*
"GAH BY GOD THAT’S COLD AND WET! … My pants are moist."
"Death Trap you are worrying me. You keep just staring off into the distance in between speeches. It is disconcerting and the fan club does not like it."
"BUT WHY SOAK ME WITH WATER?? I was in my head like you showed me, focusing. I was hearing my own inner voice."
"And nobody else can hear your inner voice if you don’t say it out loud so what is the point of promoting the match if half of your thoughts are silent? How can fans know your thoughts? Do you think the XHF Network employees can just read your mind?"
"I mean … maybe! But it got me through my trauma! I was in a groove."
"I am certainly glad my therapy helped but you are using it wrong and everyone is annoyed. Everything you do just seems … blue. It lacks your usual energy because you are holding the energetic thoughts in your head and then acting as if you said them! It is certainly unique and Avant-garde but it is not normal. So stop that. And talk about Rob Arnold normally or I shall be back."
"But … my match focus!"
"Use it for the MATCHES. I will get the whip Chaos packed so help me …"
"Yes ma’am."
*She walks away out of the hotel gym and leaves him sitting on the floor dripping wet. He pulls his hat off and wrings it out then stands up.*
"That’s certainly one way to wake from a meditative state of focus … or a dream. Speaking of dreams … ha still got the segue. Rob Arnold … been having some bad dreams lately huh? Yeah I can relate to that. If my moustache looked that much like a cartoon villain’s I’d be worried too. You should try a new look … maybe a nice hat …"
*He puts his hat back over his head, tucking the now drooping soggy spikes at the front under it and then tips it to the camera*
"Not quite the level of nightmare Leon Chant has had now that he’s managed to lose to me twice after looking so good and coming so close right? I’m sure he’s so happy you decided to step in and make me want to win even more than I already did. Great friend you are."
*He sits down on a weight bench to a loud SQUISH sound. His eyes go wide as he looks down and sighs*
"Anyway Rob, you and I haven’t met in the ring but that is about to change. And it’s clear to me from all the rumblings I’m hearing that you have the population enthralled and eating out of your hand. It takes some kind of reputation and aura to get that recognition and be considered more of a favorite to win than me. You, having had one match in over a year and gotten beaten by the same guys who beat us … in our THIRD match … and me, a double champion and hardest working wrestler in XHF today. Nobody’s schedule is rougher than MCCW and nobody in MCCW does as many extra events as me. And yet all I keep hearing from fans and wrestlers alike is how Rob Fucking Arnold is back and is going to bring the hurting to everyone. It’s amazing. All the work I put in and just your name and reputation is enough to put you in everyone’s top spots. You keep coming Rob, I don’t need to stop you coming to the match … I just need to make sure you keep right on moving back home and out of my hair."
*He leans over towards the camera*
"Let me let you in on a little secret Rob. It feels pretty good to be the top dog again. Feels even better after fifteen long years. Feels even better when I can keep proving people wrong and giving the fans that surprise pop they love to give when I do the unthinkable. Like defend my titles and choke out such legendary names as Rat Bastard and Rob Arnold. It’s Night of Champions Rob. And I am the champion. I am the Main Attraction. And I intend to snap all these other wrestlers and naysayers out of their hazed and expose you and Rat and Dylan for what you are. I intend to dismantle your cult of personality. And let everyone soak in the brilliance that is Death Trap. Still … your XHF X*Crown Champion. Overcoming all the odds, all the predictions, all the naysayers, all the threats, and all the crazy bullshit. Outlasting all 6 other people in this match and making every one of you tap out. Why? Because Rob. It’s what I do."
*He walks out of the gym, squishing with every step from the water.*
"My goddamn underwear is soggy… "
*We fade out as he closes the door and heads off to his room*
