Post by The Colossus on Mar 26, 2021 15:07:16 GMT -5
Angus had had a meeting with some shifty little shit, who had enough money to make Eric Dane pay attention. Angus looked around his gym, at the dias where the XHF network television roll cage contraption had been, and he walked soberly to the backyard where no longer was there a venue of Herculean strength, and Mind-Melting general stupidity.
It was quiet at Crescent City Fight Club. Not the quiet of absence, as the thrum of training and irregular mat slams continued unabated. But the noise of malarkey and shenanigans was gone.
Angus sighed, and walked back to his office.
Walter Whezl, on the other hand, having been described as a shifty little shit out loud was not annoyed in the slightest.
Walter had two things going for him now. The first was he had purchased the contract of Scott Steel from Eric Dane. It had been shockingly easy as the primary monetary backer, Angus Skaaland had seemingly reached the end of his rope with the big man
Eric Dane had required certain necessities of him, like honoring the NPW engagement of the syndicate, and a prior deal requiring Steel’s presence in SWAT.
Second; Walter had more money that you could shake a fist at. Cheat code money, and a desire to use Scott Steel to make even more of it. Walter had been investigating investing in the lucrative supplement and workout nutrition market for several years and needed a face to put to his potential brand.
Let these fools gawk and cluck like hens. Walter had not yet made the acquaintance of Gus Arnold, but he had faxed ahead his general displeasure in where his client was being positioned. Walter was fairly certain that Gus was going to be a gem to deal with, because like everyone else in wrestling, he was a rube mark needing to be led to the money trough to gorge.
Naturally, Scott Steel was the most marketable of the Syndicate, and maybe of all the big men in the XHF. Walter had watched a good cross section of them, and they ranged from myopically turgid to the outright untenable. He had considered Subject 42 initially, but seeing is display of strength lifting a man 25 pounds heavier over his head, he realized that he couldn’t reasonably pass that off as naturally gained strength, and didn’t feel like dealing with the lawsuits of having a face of his brand who so blatantly was performance enhanced.
He was certainly better than that tag team partner of his too. Jamester talked entirely too much and had “expectations”. Scott actually liked the man, which was going to be a problem only in the short term. Walter Whezl had absolutely zero interest in “tag team” money. And if he was going to use Scott as his marketing face, he needed a face. NOT faces. It was going to be touchy as Scott could probably throw Walter into low earth orbit, so that was one of those “back-burner” issues he kept having to assign to this part of his business.
What was not going to happen regularly was letting Scott open his mouth. All of that rambling about vesuvius and tubers made Walter uncomfortable.
Walter Whezl:
And this is where things will be changing substantially won’t they Gaz Mayberry, while you may find your idle bumpkin antics amusing, and surely the pastoral nature of them makes the molson chuggers feel a sort of hollow kinship to you.
I am not amused.
It also becomes my unfortunate news to inform you that, sadly you will not be completing your odyssey of attempting to attain the NPW Double Crown in six or sixty months. A gambling man, such as yourself no doubt, might think that going all in two pairs of spades was a smart move and possibly the winning hand.
Mr. Mayberry and the degenerates who support this illformed Persius may not understand that it’s not important what the dealer holds when the smart has already loosed the bullet at the back of your skull.
The whole card as they say Mr. Mayberry is not important.
As you may have heard, I have enlisted the services of one Scott Steel, nee the Mountain. Which means your current existence is a personal affront to me. That Gus Arnold has deigned Scott Steel to face a lout such as yourself disgusts me. It would disgust anyone with a half functioning brain to see the greatest mass of muscle of flesh in the XHF reduced to facing the exact type of drunken clown I had just pried the man away from.
Make no mistake, Gaz Mayberry, or anyone else who has heretofore not paid attention.
Whezl sneered hard, his nose scrunching up underneath the glasses and the flesh of his neck going taut.
Walter Whezl:
I suspect that to have been many of you.
There are going to be no more distractions around MY Colossus. There are going to be no more gifts of puppies from grifters riding on borrowed time, there is going to be no more community service.
There certainly aren’t going to be second helpings of drunken clowns coming round posings as fighters or lawyers, or whatever the loser d’jour of the day is.
And before anyone tries to use it as an insult. I am your better. I will do anything to make sure that this Colossus is successful. It won’t be done through cute “fundraisers” for and by people who don’t have enough money to shift the windows of a house, let alone the policy of anyone who matters.
Gaz Mayberry becomes the first example in what a focused, and undistracted Colossus can accomplish.
And while you may despise me, you won’t be able to put a single filthy poverty laced finger on me. He will see to that.
I will point.
He will go.
I will point.
That will be null and void.
Understand?
I doubt it. You lowborn filth.
Black.
It was quiet at Crescent City Fight Club. Not the quiet of absence, as the thrum of training and irregular mat slams continued unabated. But the noise of malarkey and shenanigans was gone.
Angus sighed, and walked back to his office.
Walter Whezl, on the other hand, having been described as a shifty little shit out loud was not annoyed in the slightest.
Walter had two things going for him now. The first was he had purchased the contract of Scott Steel from Eric Dane. It had been shockingly easy as the primary monetary backer, Angus Skaaland had seemingly reached the end of his rope with the big man
Eric Dane had required certain necessities of him, like honoring the NPW engagement of the syndicate, and a prior deal requiring Steel’s presence in SWAT.
Second; Walter had more money that you could shake a fist at. Cheat code money, and a desire to use Scott Steel to make even more of it. Walter had been investigating investing in the lucrative supplement and workout nutrition market for several years and needed a face to put to his potential brand.
Let these fools gawk and cluck like hens. Walter had not yet made the acquaintance of Gus Arnold, but he had faxed ahead his general displeasure in where his client was being positioned. Walter was fairly certain that Gus was going to be a gem to deal with, because like everyone else in wrestling, he was a rube mark needing to be led to the money trough to gorge.
Naturally, Scott Steel was the most marketable of the Syndicate, and maybe of all the big men in the XHF. Walter had watched a good cross section of them, and they ranged from myopically turgid to the outright untenable. He had considered Subject 42 initially, but seeing is display of strength lifting a man 25 pounds heavier over his head, he realized that he couldn’t reasonably pass that off as naturally gained strength, and didn’t feel like dealing with the lawsuits of having a face of his brand who so blatantly was performance enhanced.
He was certainly better than that tag team partner of his too. Jamester talked entirely too much and had “expectations”. Scott actually liked the man, which was going to be a problem only in the short term. Walter Whezl had absolutely zero interest in “tag team” money. And if he was going to use Scott as his marketing face, he needed a face. NOT faces. It was going to be touchy as Scott could probably throw Walter into low earth orbit, so that was one of those “back-burner” issues he kept having to assign to this part of his business.
What was not going to happen regularly was letting Scott open his mouth. All of that rambling about vesuvius and tubers made Walter uncomfortable.
Walter Whezl:
And this is where things will be changing substantially won’t they Gaz Mayberry, while you may find your idle bumpkin antics amusing, and surely the pastoral nature of them makes the molson chuggers feel a sort of hollow kinship to you.
I am not amused.
It also becomes my unfortunate news to inform you that, sadly you will not be completing your odyssey of attempting to attain the NPW Double Crown in six or sixty months. A gambling man, such as yourself no doubt, might think that going all in two pairs of spades was a smart move and possibly the winning hand.
Mr. Mayberry and the degenerates who support this illformed Persius may not understand that it’s not important what the dealer holds when the smart has already loosed the bullet at the back of your skull.
The whole card as they say Mr. Mayberry is not important.
As you may have heard, I have enlisted the services of one Scott Steel, nee the Mountain. Which means your current existence is a personal affront to me. That Gus Arnold has deigned Scott Steel to face a lout such as yourself disgusts me. It would disgust anyone with a half functioning brain to see the greatest mass of muscle of flesh in the XHF reduced to facing the exact type of drunken clown I had just pried the man away from.
Make no mistake, Gaz Mayberry, or anyone else who has heretofore not paid attention.
Whezl sneered hard, his nose scrunching up underneath the glasses and the flesh of his neck going taut.
Walter Whezl:
I suspect that to have been many of you.
There are going to be no more distractions around MY Colossus. There are going to be no more gifts of puppies from grifters riding on borrowed time, there is going to be no more community service.
There certainly aren’t going to be second helpings of drunken clowns coming round posings as fighters or lawyers, or whatever the loser d’jour of the day is.
And before anyone tries to use it as an insult. I am your better. I will do anything to make sure that this Colossus is successful. It won’t be done through cute “fundraisers” for and by people who don’t have enough money to shift the windows of a house, let alone the policy of anyone who matters.
Gaz Mayberry becomes the first example in what a focused, and undistracted Colossus can accomplish.
And while you may despise me, you won’t be able to put a single filthy poverty laced finger on me. He will see to that.
I will point.
He will go.
I will point.
That will be null and void.
Understand?
I doubt it. You lowborn filth.
Black.