Post by Justin on Feb 7, 2021 17:09:54 GMT -5
It’s been a fucked up couple of weeks.
The Cruiserweight Classic has come and gone, along with the No Man’s Land tournament and the SWAT Rumble, among other things.
A statement had been made at the CWC Finale, though it’s been largely ignored by the Network outside of NPW. Truth be told, the person that the message was delivered to seems to have forgotten he was there in the first place, but that’s another story all together.
For now.
As for No Man’s Land… Graysie lost in the first round to Jeff Andrew’s new Heidi clone. I’d say I’m not surprised, but even without me at ringside the kid should have made short work of Kirsty McKinney. It was her first goddamned match outside of Jeff’s warehouse for Christ’s sake. She didn’t earn it though. Between all the distraction from those ReVenant idiots and then that motherfucker Timeless coming out of nowhere and putting his hands on her…
Ugh.
Doesn’t matter, though. Graysie hasn’t so much as glanced in my direction since I left her in that lockerroom. I don’t really blame her, she trusted me and I left her out to dry, but goddammit I’ll never understand her as long as she lets her emotions run wild like this. Honestly I’d always hoped it wouldn’t come to this. She’s always shown so much promise, hell the first day I met her she pinned me in a sparring session!
But this complete submission to emotion…
I don’t know, it may just be out of my hands.
Nothing I can do about it today, though, as there are more important matters at hand. Vicious Valentine’s is coming up and it’s gonna be three on three, the Syndicate against three knobs that for whatever reason seem to have all developed an allergy to the way we do business in Northern Pro.
Lord Dominicus.
The North American Cruiserweight Champion.
The self-professed longest reigning and only real champion in NPW. I feel like maybe I should be offended. Maybe I should have some heat with the squirt for having made his bones in Canada by running his mouth and dropping my name. If I’m honest though, when I take a look at the Double Crown and I remember that it’s got more jewels of a finer quality, it’s got finer-tooled leather, the gold and platinum plates are bigger and etched with more precision and I can’t help but laugh myself into a fit.
And sure, maybe you’ve held that little trinket of yours since October sometime, but let me ask you a serious question l’il buddy: Have you defended it yet?
No?
How’d you make out in the Cruiserweight Cup? You know, the tournament that was tailor made for you to win. How’d you do?
Didn’t even make the semi-finals?
But I’m supposed to take you seriously?
Fuck outta here with that nonsense and don’t darken my doorstep again until you’ve grown up, grown some balls, and won a match against literally anybody that matters. Capiché? Moving right along.
Joseph Mack.
Now you…
You’ve made yourself quite the impact. You’ve been a bigger thorn in my side than anybody else combined and with less experience, no resume, and no discernable redeeming qualities past a set of abs that’ve got Dylan Black masturbating with his salty jelly-filled tears.
I’ll tell you what, Joe. As you’ve done the most with the least, hanging in there with me a couple of weeks back and even eliminating my man Jesse from the SWAT Rumble, I’m gonna go against my better judgement and I’m gonna offer one last olive branch to you. No disrespect this time, none of that kiss-the-ring bullshit, a serious offer.
Join the Syndicate.
Avoid being exterminated with the rats inside of Northern Pro and across the Network! I know you can see it coming, Joe, and I know that you know better than that. So do us all a favor and don’t be a martyr. You already know that I don’t mind scraping you off my boot should it come to that. Fortunately for us it doesn’t have to! Make the right decision, Joe, stand among Gods or be crushed with the insects.
And then, there was one.
Timeless.
Alex clown-shoes Turner.
I know that somewhere in that pea brain of yours you think you’ve somehow gotten one over on me. Let me debunk that myth right here and right now. You jabbered your jaw until you went from a SWAT nothing to a small blip on my radar. From there you fucked up a main event by not having a fundamental understanding of the sport you make your living at. How’d that play out, my guy? Oh, yeah, they held up all the belts that I was supposed to win that night and put them all in one big Lethal Lottery blender that you lost and I won, thereby once again making Eric Dane the bride, and Alex Turner the fucking bridesmaid.
Then you cost me my chance at the X*Crown by sticking your nose in my business again. How’s that workin’ out for you Turner, how was your big match at Battle for Hegemony? Don’t worry, I’ll wait. What? You embarrassed yourself by going on and on for hours about shit that didn’t matter and people who you weren’t against and then you embarrassed Northern Pro by not pinning Adrien’s little brother and getting pinned by the reanimated corpse of Zoran Sainovich!
Go on, pop them pecs for us one more time.
Tell me how big your dick is one more time.
Rattle off your twelve shitty catchphrases…
One.
More.
Time.
You’re a bitch Alex, and the only moves you’ve made in the entire time that I’ve been aware of you are embarrassing, smooth-brained, small-dick-energy, bitch moves that haven’t netted you so much as a title shot.
And why do you think that is, Alex?
Go on, give us another pissbaby rant about how it’s Caffrey’s fault that you tapped out to Lady Discipline or whatever-the-fuck you cry about every time you open your mouth and completely miss the point on your way to losing another match and crying about politics for the rest of your life.
I’ll wait.
The Cruiserweight Classic has come and gone, along with the No Man’s Land tournament and the SWAT Rumble, among other things.
A statement had been made at the CWC Finale, though it’s been largely ignored by the Network outside of NPW. Truth be told, the person that the message was delivered to seems to have forgotten he was there in the first place, but that’s another story all together.
For now.
As for No Man’s Land… Graysie lost in the first round to Jeff Andrew’s new Heidi clone. I’d say I’m not surprised, but even without me at ringside the kid should have made short work of Kirsty McKinney. It was her first goddamned match outside of Jeff’s warehouse for Christ’s sake. She didn’t earn it though. Between all the distraction from those ReVenant idiots and then that motherfucker Timeless coming out of nowhere and putting his hands on her…
Ugh.
Doesn’t matter, though. Graysie hasn’t so much as glanced in my direction since I left her in that lockerroom. I don’t really blame her, she trusted me and I left her out to dry, but goddammit I’ll never understand her as long as she lets her emotions run wild like this. Honestly I’d always hoped it wouldn’t come to this. She’s always shown so much promise, hell the first day I met her she pinned me in a sparring session!
But this complete submission to emotion…
I don’t know, it may just be out of my hands.
Nothing I can do about it today, though, as there are more important matters at hand. Vicious Valentine’s is coming up and it’s gonna be three on three, the Syndicate against three knobs that for whatever reason seem to have all developed an allergy to the way we do business in Northern Pro.
Lord Dominicus.
The North American Cruiserweight Champion.
The self-professed longest reigning and only real champion in NPW. I feel like maybe I should be offended. Maybe I should have some heat with the squirt for having made his bones in Canada by running his mouth and dropping my name. If I’m honest though, when I take a look at the Double Crown and I remember that it’s got more jewels of a finer quality, it’s got finer-tooled leather, the gold and platinum plates are bigger and etched with more precision and I can’t help but laugh myself into a fit.
And sure, maybe you’ve held that little trinket of yours since October sometime, but let me ask you a serious question l’il buddy: Have you defended it yet?
No?
How’d you make out in the Cruiserweight Cup? You know, the tournament that was tailor made for you to win. How’d you do?
Didn’t even make the semi-finals?
But I’m supposed to take you seriously?
Fuck outta here with that nonsense and don’t darken my doorstep again until you’ve grown up, grown some balls, and won a match against literally anybody that matters. Capiché? Moving right along.
Joseph Mack.
Now you…
You’ve made yourself quite the impact. You’ve been a bigger thorn in my side than anybody else combined and with less experience, no resume, and no discernable redeeming qualities past a set of abs that’ve got Dylan Black masturbating with his salty jelly-filled tears.
I’ll tell you what, Joe. As you’ve done the most with the least, hanging in there with me a couple of weeks back and even eliminating my man Jesse from the SWAT Rumble, I’m gonna go against my better judgement and I’m gonna offer one last olive branch to you. No disrespect this time, none of that kiss-the-ring bullshit, a serious offer.
Join the Syndicate.
Avoid being exterminated with the rats inside of Northern Pro and across the Network! I know you can see it coming, Joe, and I know that you know better than that. So do us all a favor and don’t be a martyr. You already know that I don’t mind scraping you off my boot should it come to that. Fortunately for us it doesn’t have to! Make the right decision, Joe, stand among Gods or be crushed with the insects.
And then, there was one.
Timeless.
Alex clown-shoes Turner.
I know that somewhere in that pea brain of yours you think you’ve somehow gotten one over on me. Let me debunk that myth right here and right now. You jabbered your jaw until you went from a SWAT nothing to a small blip on my radar. From there you fucked up a main event by not having a fundamental understanding of the sport you make your living at. How’d that play out, my guy? Oh, yeah, they held up all the belts that I was supposed to win that night and put them all in one big Lethal Lottery blender that you lost and I won, thereby once again making Eric Dane the bride, and Alex Turner the fucking bridesmaid.
Then you cost me my chance at the X*Crown by sticking your nose in my business again. How’s that workin’ out for you Turner, how was your big match at Battle for Hegemony? Don’t worry, I’ll wait. What? You embarrassed yourself by going on and on for hours about shit that didn’t matter and people who you weren’t against and then you embarrassed Northern Pro by not pinning Adrien’s little brother and getting pinned by the reanimated corpse of Zoran Sainovich!
Go on, pop them pecs for us one more time.
Tell me how big your dick is one more time.
Rattle off your twelve shitty catchphrases…
One.
More.
Time.
You’re a bitch Alex, and the only moves you’ve made in the entire time that I’ve been aware of you are embarrassing, smooth-brained, small-dick-energy, bitch moves that haven’t netted you so much as a title shot.
And why do you think that is, Alex?
Go on, give us another pissbaby rant about how it’s Caffrey’s fault that you tapped out to Lady Discipline or whatever-the-fuck you cry about every time you open your mouth and completely miss the point on your way to losing another match and crying about politics for the rest of your life.
I’ll wait.
(PS: Snipe Deez Nuts)
