Post by Vodka Fizz on Mar 4, 2022 23:10:43 GMT -5
The scene opens in what appears to be a boxing gym. There are a lot of heavy bags and speed bags that may have seen better days, and a ring with no ropes where the canvas shows signs of having been stitched back together many times, and in some places repaired with duct tape. After a moment, the lights click on and Vodka Fizz enters in none of his usual accouterments, dressed instead in a pair of loose fitting boxing shorts and a hooded robe. He drops his gym bag near one of the heavy bags and takes a seat on a stool, taking out a pair of weighted mma gloves from the bag.
Vodka: Here we are again. Vodka’s gonna tell you some story about his past, right? Some snivelly, sad tale about his history, or about how his parents made him sad,or how nobody believed in him. I could wax poetic about how hard it was to get where I am until I was blue in the face and people would eat it up, but that’s not what we’re here for. Apparently, some of you thought it was a good idea to vote for me for wrestler of the year, and now Caffrey’s thrown together some kind of bullshit match where we have to fight for his weird dildo looking statue and a pat on the ass.
Vodka rolls his eyes, continuing to busy himself with the gloves, taping the first in place.
Vodka: This is the part where I’m supposed to start off playing humble, right? This is where I’m supposed to play the nice guy, and act humble and like there’s something nice I have to say. Gosh, I really hate to disappoint. But with one major exception, I don’t really have much nice to say at all. Good thing my mother never taught me that if you didn’t have anything nice to say to keep your mouth shut. And you know what? Not holding back has served me pretty damn well so far.
Vodka chuckles to himself, shaking his head.
Vodka: Now I know you all are going to wonder about the elephant in the room. And I’ll be straight up; what goes on with me and Natalie in our lives outside of this place is none of your business. And she and I have an understanding. She’s gonna do her level damnedest to put me down, and I’m going to do the same. Because this isn’t about our relationship, or being a couple. This is about going out to that ring to prove who deserves to be called the Wrestler of the Year. And I would expect Nat to come extra hard, since I do have a clean pinfall victory over her.
Vodka grins and winks, indicating that the double entendre was not entirely unintentional.
Vodka: While we’re on the topic of our illustrious world champion, Natalie Burrows is a huge obstacle to overcome. But if there’s a critical weakness I can call out it’s that she’s too nice. She’s got the ability and the instincts to be a great wrestler. But she’s a Lioness with no teeth. And just like a snake with no venom may as well be a belt, a lioness with no teeth may as well be a fancy rug. You might put the hurt on me, but you don’t have the juice to do what needs to be done to beat me.
Vodka tightens his gloves and kneepads, then stands, kicking the stool aside.
Vodka: Now this isn;t me discounting you, Natalie. You still did something I couldn;t when you beat MAJESTY to win the title. But it’s been some time since then, and I am not the same person I was then. You should know that better than anyone here, since you’re the only one I’ve faced off against before and we both know how that turned out. You mighta started out as a big, mean jungle cat but it certainly didn’t take me long to have you purring like a kitten.
Vodka winks, then stretches and cracks his neck, letting out a long breath.
Vodka: There’s a strong choice for the next person on my hitlist, but I’m gonna hold off on that. Our next contestant is going to be MYOJIN. And I’ll be honest; MYO is not someone who’s really been on my radar. They and I have largely moved in different circles. Under different circumstances, I might even be looking forward to taking a crack at the Shining Star. But unfortunately, if the last few months have been any indication, that’s not who is going to be in the ring, is it MYOJIN?
Vodka grins, showing his teeth, and it looks almost unhinged.
Vodka: See, there was a time a few months ago when MYOJIN was on top of the world. They were X*Crown champion. They were a former Junior Heavyweight champion. They were golden, and they were the pinnacle of what every one of us in the locker room wanted to achieve. And that MYOJIN was somebody that I wanted to go toe to toe with. That was a version of MYOJIN that threw everything they could at whatever obstacle they came up against. And then they lost the X*Crown to Fuckboy Valentine Jr after Fuckboy gave him the screws. Kinda literally, since he stabbed him with a screwdriver, which the Whining Star hasn’t shut up about since.
Vodka throws a couple of sharp punches at the hanging bag and misses both times.
Vodka: We’ve all seen how successful you’ve been lately too. And you blame everyone else, rather than taking a look at yourself and realizing that you need to grow the hell up and get over it. As long as you keep this poor me, boo hoo horseshit up you’re going nowhere fast, MYOJIN. Right now when I think about standing across from you in that ring, I don’t see the wrestler of the year. I don’t see a challenger. I don’t see an opponent. I see a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum, and all that makes you is another former X*Crown champion that’s going to be another tally mark on my road to the top.
Vodka throws another punch that hits the bag this time, and he winces, shaking his hand.
Vodka: Motherf- Hmmm. Anyway. Who does that leave us with? Oh of course, there’s the person you all have been waiting for me to call out, right? And that is none other than the man himself. Another former X*Crown champion, and a slimy, self-absorbed asshole who possibly represents the second biggest ego in this match. And that, of course, is the Self-Made God, Misha Constantine.
Vodka looks smug, and throws another punch at the bag that whiffs again.
Vodka: I know that’s not what y’all expected, but believe me when I say it’s worth the wait. So Misha. Misha, Misha, Misha. What can we say about this whole thing? How weird is it for you not being the biggest douche in a match? It has to be weird knowing that as self-absorbed, as irritating, and as overrated as you are that there’s someone else in the ring that’s worse than you could ever hope to be. But joking aside? You’re a solid threat in this match. You’re a two-time X*Crown champion. You beat the man that I didn’t. Of course, then you lost the title to El Rey, so I dunno what that says considering El Rey is one of Fuckboy Jr’s posse.
Vodka grins, jumping and juking and throwing punches at the bag without paying much attention to the camera. Not a single punch hits.
Vodka: Joking aside, Misha, I know you can put up. And you’re just so psychotically devoted to yourself that I doubt anything I can say right now is going to penetrate that shield of deluded confidence you’ve wrapped yourself in. But you know what, Misha? You’re not the only one who built yourself up from nothing. I was born in the mud, and I fought and I scratched, and I clawed to get myself far enough up the mountain that I could grasp at your ankles. And when I get my hand on that ankle, I am going to rip you down and throw you off that mountain. I will prove to you that despite your ego, despite your achievements, despite your ability, it is going to be a man that has wallowed in the world you hold with such disdain that leaves you laying in the muck with the rest of us. And you will curse my name when you’re lying in that ring, looking at lights when people are screaming my name.
Vodka finally stops dancing around, turning his full attention to the camera.
Vodka: And now we get to the man of the hour. The man who has no business in this patch, taking the place of Spike Kane. The man whose ego and deluded sense of self worth eclipses the self-made God. The man who tries to shine brighter than the Whining Star. And again. Again, we have another former X*Crown champion. The Purple Emperor. The owner of Fireside wrestling. The man that signs our paychecks. Of course I mean Anthony Caffrey.
Vodka looks disinterested, glaring at the camera.
Vodka: So Caffrey. I dunno what really needs to be said here, man. You have no business being in this match. You took the Burnies, which was supposed to be awards from the fans to your roster, and you turned it into a vanity project. You’ve driven away so many promising people and deluded yourself into believing it was somebody else’s fault. Do you honestly believe that you have any business in a Fireside ring? Do you honestly believe anyone wants to see you flop around in the ring and get your ass beat by four other people? Honestly, Caff? Come on bro.
Vodka shakes his head, letting out a sigh.
Vodka: The saddest part of the whole thing is that we see so many glimpses of the Caff that used to be a big deal. We see glimpses of the Caff that people despised because he was legitimately good enough to deserve it. But all we’ve seen since your comeback is a caricature of the man you used to be. I legitimately feel sorry for you. When you lost the Bounce House of Horror match or whatever it was called. When you and MYOJIN didn’t beat the BAND Hermanos. When you attacked Adrien Cochrane. You are desperate to be relevant, desperate to be relevant at the cost of the roster that believed in your vision. And I promise you, that I will take great pleasure in being the man who gets his hand raised at the end of the Penalty Box match as the Wrestler of the Year to rob you of one more chance to be relevant on the backs of the rest of us.
Vodka grins finally.
Vodka: Oh, and one more thing, Caff. I saw how you brought up the heart of Fireside thing and how that didn’t really mean anything? I’d rather be the heart than just the tip.
Vodka throws a pump kick at the heavy bag, which swings off screen while he celebrates, before it swings back to crash into him. With a curse, the camera suddenly cuts to black.
Vodka: Here we are again. Vodka’s gonna tell you some story about his past, right? Some snivelly, sad tale about his history, or about how his parents made him sad,or how nobody believed in him. I could wax poetic about how hard it was to get where I am until I was blue in the face and people would eat it up, but that’s not what we’re here for. Apparently, some of you thought it was a good idea to vote for me for wrestler of the year, and now Caffrey’s thrown together some kind of bullshit match where we have to fight for his weird dildo looking statue and a pat on the ass.
Vodka rolls his eyes, continuing to busy himself with the gloves, taping the first in place.
Vodka: This is the part where I’m supposed to start off playing humble, right? This is where I’m supposed to play the nice guy, and act humble and like there’s something nice I have to say. Gosh, I really hate to disappoint. But with one major exception, I don’t really have much nice to say at all. Good thing my mother never taught me that if you didn’t have anything nice to say to keep your mouth shut. And you know what? Not holding back has served me pretty damn well so far.
Vodka chuckles to himself, shaking his head.
Vodka: Now I know you all are going to wonder about the elephant in the room. And I’ll be straight up; what goes on with me and Natalie in our lives outside of this place is none of your business. And she and I have an understanding. She’s gonna do her level damnedest to put me down, and I’m going to do the same. Because this isn’t about our relationship, or being a couple. This is about going out to that ring to prove who deserves to be called the Wrestler of the Year. And I would expect Nat to come extra hard, since I do have a clean pinfall victory over her.
Vodka grins and winks, indicating that the double entendre was not entirely unintentional.
Vodka: While we’re on the topic of our illustrious world champion, Natalie Burrows is a huge obstacle to overcome. But if there’s a critical weakness I can call out it’s that she’s too nice. She’s got the ability and the instincts to be a great wrestler. But she’s a Lioness with no teeth. And just like a snake with no venom may as well be a belt, a lioness with no teeth may as well be a fancy rug. You might put the hurt on me, but you don’t have the juice to do what needs to be done to beat me.
Vodka tightens his gloves and kneepads, then stands, kicking the stool aside.
Vodka: Now this isn;t me discounting you, Natalie. You still did something I couldn;t when you beat MAJESTY to win the title. But it’s been some time since then, and I am not the same person I was then. You should know that better than anyone here, since you’re the only one I’ve faced off against before and we both know how that turned out. You mighta started out as a big, mean jungle cat but it certainly didn’t take me long to have you purring like a kitten.
Vodka winks, then stretches and cracks his neck, letting out a long breath.
Vodka: There’s a strong choice for the next person on my hitlist, but I’m gonna hold off on that. Our next contestant is going to be MYOJIN. And I’ll be honest; MYO is not someone who’s really been on my radar. They and I have largely moved in different circles. Under different circumstances, I might even be looking forward to taking a crack at the Shining Star. But unfortunately, if the last few months have been any indication, that’s not who is going to be in the ring, is it MYOJIN?
Vodka grins, showing his teeth, and it looks almost unhinged.
Vodka: See, there was a time a few months ago when MYOJIN was on top of the world. They were X*Crown champion. They were a former Junior Heavyweight champion. They were golden, and they were the pinnacle of what every one of us in the locker room wanted to achieve. And that MYOJIN was somebody that I wanted to go toe to toe with. That was a version of MYOJIN that threw everything they could at whatever obstacle they came up against. And then they lost the X*Crown to Fuckboy Valentine Jr after Fuckboy gave him the screws. Kinda literally, since he stabbed him with a screwdriver, which the Whining Star hasn’t shut up about since.
Vodka throws a couple of sharp punches at the hanging bag and misses both times.
Vodka: We’ve all seen how successful you’ve been lately too. And you blame everyone else, rather than taking a look at yourself and realizing that you need to grow the hell up and get over it. As long as you keep this poor me, boo hoo horseshit up you’re going nowhere fast, MYOJIN. Right now when I think about standing across from you in that ring, I don’t see the wrestler of the year. I don’t see a challenger. I don’t see an opponent. I see a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum, and all that makes you is another former X*Crown champion that’s going to be another tally mark on my road to the top.
Vodka throws another punch that hits the bag this time, and he winces, shaking his hand.
Vodka: Motherf- Hmmm. Anyway. Who does that leave us with? Oh of course, there’s the person you all have been waiting for me to call out, right? And that is none other than the man himself. Another former X*Crown champion, and a slimy, self-absorbed asshole who possibly represents the second biggest ego in this match. And that, of course, is the Self-Made God, Misha Constantine.
Vodka looks smug, and throws another punch at the bag that whiffs again.
Vodka: I know that’s not what y’all expected, but believe me when I say it’s worth the wait. So Misha. Misha, Misha, Misha. What can we say about this whole thing? How weird is it for you not being the biggest douche in a match? It has to be weird knowing that as self-absorbed, as irritating, and as overrated as you are that there’s someone else in the ring that’s worse than you could ever hope to be. But joking aside? You’re a solid threat in this match. You’re a two-time X*Crown champion. You beat the man that I didn’t. Of course, then you lost the title to El Rey, so I dunno what that says considering El Rey is one of Fuckboy Jr’s posse.
Vodka grins, jumping and juking and throwing punches at the bag without paying much attention to the camera. Not a single punch hits.
Vodka: Joking aside, Misha, I know you can put up. And you’re just so psychotically devoted to yourself that I doubt anything I can say right now is going to penetrate that shield of deluded confidence you’ve wrapped yourself in. But you know what, Misha? You’re not the only one who built yourself up from nothing. I was born in the mud, and I fought and I scratched, and I clawed to get myself far enough up the mountain that I could grasp at your ankles. And when I get my hand on that ankle, I am going to rip you down and throw you off that mountain. I will prove to you that despite your ego, despite your achievements, despite your ability, it is going to be a man that has wallowed in the world you hold with such disdain that leaves you laying in the muck with the rest of us. And you will curse my name when you’re lying in that ring, looking at lights when people are screaming my name.
Vodka finally stops dancing around, turning his full attention to the camera.
Vodka: And now we get to the man of the hour. The man who has no business in this patch, taking the place of Spike Kane. The man whose ego and deluded sense of self worth eclipses the self-made God. The man who tries to shine brighter than the Whining Star. And again. Again, we have another former X*Crown champion. The Purple Emperor. The owner of Fireside wrestling. The man that signs our paychecks. Of course I mean Anthony Caffrey.
Vodka looks disinterested, glaring at the camera.
Vodka: So Caffrey. I dunno what really needs to be said here, man. You have no business being in this match. You took the Burnies, which was supposed to be awards from the fans to your roster, and you turned it into a vanity project. You’ve driven away so many promising people and deluded yourself into believing it was somebody else’s fault. Do you honestly believe that you have any business in a Fireside ring? Do you honestly believe anyone wants to see you flop around in the ring and get your ass beat by four other people? Honestly, Caff? Come on bro.
Vodka shakes his head, letting out a sigh.
Vodka: The saddest part of the whole thing is that we see so many glimpses of the Caff that used to be a big deal. We see glimpses of the Caff that people despised because he was legitimately good enough to deserve it. But all we’ve seen since your comeback is a caricature of the man you used to be. I legitimately feel sorry for you. When you lost the Bounce House of Horror match or whatever it was called. When you and MYOJIN didn’t beat the BAND Hermanos. When you attacked Adrien Cochrane. You are desperate to be relevant, desperate to be relevant at the cost of the roster that believed in your vision. And I promise you, that I will take great pleasure in being the man who gets his hand raised at the end of the Penalty Box match as the Wrestler of the Year to rob you of one more chance to be relevant on the backs of the rest of us.
Vodka grins finally.
Vodka: Oh, and one more thing, Caff. I saw how you brought up the heart of Fireside thing and how that didn’t really mean anything? I’d rather be the heart than just the tip.
Vodka throws a pump kick at the heavy bag, which swings off screen while he celebrates, before it swings back to crash into him. With a curse, the camera suddenly cuts to black.