Post by FINN WHELAN on Aug 19, 2021 17:05:17 GMT -5
No holding back. You are what you have always been.
To say voices spoke to him would be a gross misconception. It wasn’t voices, and it wasn’t schizophrenia. It was a singular voice, once that would always be a part of him, no matter how far removed from him. In fact, the holder of the voice could be dead, and he was certain he’d still hear it like the devil on his shoulder. Always telling him what to do, berating him, treating him as if he couldn’t think for himself. It was deep, with a broken English, but still a somewhat pleasant intonation that made the hair on the back of his neck stick up.
The thoughts never left. They reminded him of what he was, even if he knew it.
If anything, they made him more and more determined to do better.
No holding back.
“Gods don’t exist in this sport any more than those who believe they’re Deathless. These are fallacies. These are false creations, ideations that we create in order to make us and our peers think we’re better than what we are. I am the first to tell you that I’m fallible. I’m not a god, and I am by no means any part of perfect. A lot of us build an ego and a false sense of superiority simply because of our accomplishments and our abilities. We succeed, we become more cocky and conceited. We take those challenges that I talked about prior to this, and then we create in ourselves a sense that we’re somehow better, stronger, faster, wiser, whatever, than the next person.”
Finn stood, his hand shoved into his pocket, with a brick wall behind him. The NLW Championship hung from his shoulders neatly, grasped across the front by his opposite arm as it clutched it within his hands.
“The truth of it is that we’re only better than another person on the day that we defeat them. Look back at our previous Championship holder, and you see someone who was undefeated. And no matter who wants to say that he was easy to knock over...Dylan, I see you...the fact of the matter is that it took eight matches in this fledgling company to finally be knocked off his pedestal. He fell to his demons. He fell to me, for your need to relate to history. Tell me how many times that you’re going to put me on the floor, that you’re going to make a mockery of me, and I’ll come back and tell you how many false statements you’re singing from the heavens.
I’m supposed to sit here and venerate my opponents. I’m supposed to sit here and tell you how fucking fabulous you are and that you’re more than accomplished. But I’ve never been the type to do what I have to. Every single person that I’ve faced as said they were going to make me eat my words, that they were going to kick my teeth down my throat, they were going to ruin me. Nineteen have had the glory of saying they defeated me, and they were far more accredited and acclaimed. That’s in five years. Nineteen out of how many matches? You look back on what Dylan Black has done, you see he’s the longest reigning X*Crown Champion in the entirety of XHF, and that he’s held that two times. You see he’s a Tag Team Champion, that he has the audacity to not even label his other championships like they meant nothing to him...and you see…”
He paused for just a moment and then shrugged his shoulders.
“I just really do not give a shit. People like to carry what they’ve done. I could come around and tell you about all the championships I’ve held, how I’ve risen to the top, how I’ve fought in the darkest and murkiest matches in the Ultraviolent scene. It’s like Dylan has this idea that I’ve never been a damn thing outside of this company, that I’m the lowest motherfucker to rise to the top of the pops in a short amount of time. I haven’t worked a damn day before and suddenly...I’m lucky.”
He sniggered, shaking his head.
“Fine. Discredit me. That’s what we do in this business, isn’t it? It only makes it sweeter when I’m the one that reaches out, stabs you in your gullet and removes you of what little life you have. You’re riding in on your coatails with your catch-22 attitude. Down to earth...nah, you’re about as down to earth as Lil Nas X is straight and riding up to Heaven, Montero. But remember...I’m not just a wrestler, I’m a fuckin’ fighter. And I don’t go down without a fight.
Bring everything you have. Your candor, your aloofness, your cold, calculating heart. Bring everything, because I’m not the same as my predecessor. I don’t fall down at the challenge that’s placed in front of me. You argued your way into this match, you didn’t fight for it, and to be honest, you probably don’t give a shit because this is the little leagues to you. Am I right? I never know, but that’s what I can surmise. The only thing that matters to you is the ability to rise above everyone else, but to me? Next Level Wrestling was where I chose to come back. I had the opportunity to go anywhere, including in this network. But I chose here because I saw something in it that I liked.
You?
You’re just a flash in the pan, the one that comes in riding high simply because he holds some leverage in the network. Someone who has been venerated for their abilities.
Someone I don’t fear, no matter what you try to say to me.
Bring me your challenge. Bring me your all. And watch when your proclivity towards arrogance crashes and burns around you like a glass ceiling. It’s a new world now. You don’t belong.”
To say voices spoke to him would be a gross misconception. It wasn’t voices, and it wasn’t schizophrenia. It was a singular voice, once that would always be a part of him, no matter how far removed from him. In fact, the holder of the voice could be dead, and he was certain he’d still hear it like the devil on his shoulder. Always telling him what to do, berating him, treating him as if he couldn’t think for himself. It was deep, with a broken English, but still a somewhat pleasant intonation that made the hair on the back of his neck stick up.
The thoughts never left. They reminded him of what he was, even if he knew it.
If anything, they made him more and more determined to do better.
No holding back.
“Gods don’t exist in this sport any more than those who believe they’re Deathless. These are fallacies. These are false creations, ideations that we create in order to make us and our peers think we’re better than what we are. I am the first to tell you that I’m fallible. I’m not a god, and I am by no means any part of perfect. A lot of us build an ego and a false sense of superiority simply because of our accomplishments and our abilities. We succeed, we become more cocky and conceited. We take those challenges that I talked about prior to this, and then we create in ourselves a sense that we’re somehow better, stronger, faster, wiser, whatever, than the next person.”
Finn stood, his hand shoved into his pocket, with a brick wall behind him. The NLW Championship hung from his shoulders neatly, grasped across the front by his opposite arm as it clutched it within his hands.
“The truth of it is that we’re only better than another person on the day that we defeat them. Look back at our previous Championship holder, and you see someone who was undefeated. And no matter who wants to say that he was easy to knock over...Dylan, I see you...the fact of the matter is that it took eight matches in this fledgling company to finally be knocked off his pedestal. He fell to his demons. He fell to me, for your need to relate to history. Tell me how many times that you’re going to put me on the floor, that you’re going to make a mockery of me, and I’ll come back and tell you how many false statements you’re singing from the heavens.
I’m supposed to sit here and venerate my opponents. I’m supposed to sit here and tell you how fucking fabulous you are and that you’re more than accomplished. But I’ve never been the type to do what I have to. Every single person that I’ve faced as said they were going to make me eat my words, that they were going to kick my teeth down my throat, they were going to ruin me. Nineteen have had the glory of saying they defeated me, and they were far more accredited and acclaimed. That’s in five years. Nineteen out of how many matches? You look back on what Dylan Black has done, you see he’s the longest reigning X*Crown Champion in the entirety of XHF, and that he’s held that two times. You see he’s a Tag Team Champion, that he has the audacity to not even label his other championships like they meant nothing to him...and you see…”
He paused for just a moment and then shrugged his shoulders.
“I just really do not give a shit. People like to carry what they’ve done. I could come around and tell you about all the championships I’ve held, how I’ve risen to the top, how I’ve fought in the darkest and murkiest matches in the Ultraviolent scene. It’s like Dylan has this idea that I’ve never been a damn thing outside of this company, that I’m the lowest motherfucker to rise to the top of the pops in a short amount of time. I haven’t worked a damn day before and suddenly...I’m lucky.”
He sniggered, shaking his head.
“Fine. Discredit me. That’s what we do in this business, isn’t it? It only makes it sweeter when I’m the one that reaches out, stabs you in your gullet and removes you of what little life you have. You’re riding in on your coatails with your catch-22 attitude. Down to earth...nah, you’re about as down to earth as Lil Nas X is straight and riding up to Heaven, Montero. But remember...I’m not just a wrestler, I’m a fuckin’ fighter. And I don’t go down without a fight.
Bring everything you have. Your candor, your aloofness, your cold, calculating heart. Bring everything, because I’m not the same as my predecessor. I don’t fall down at the challenge that’s placed in front of me. You argued your way into this match, you didn’t fight for it, and to be honest, you probably don’t give a shit because this is the little leagues to you. Am I right? I never know, but that’s what I can surmise. The only thing that matters to you is the ability to rise above everyone else, but to me? Next Level Wrestling was where I chose to come back. I had the opportunity to go anywhere, including in this network. But I chose here because I saw something in it that I liked.
You?
You’re just a flash in the pan, the one that comes in riding high simply because he holds some leverage in the network. Someone who has been venerated for their abilities.
Someone I don’t fear, no matter what you try to say to me.
Bring me your challenge. Bring me your all. And watch when your proclivity towards arrogance crashes and burns around you like a glass ceiling. It’s a new world now. You don’t belong.”
