[Long] The grudge that isn't quite yet but soon will be
Apr 4, 2023 0:38:53 GMT -5
robriot likes this
Post by Old Line Jeff on Apr 4, 2023 0:38:53 GMT -5
The scene is set in front of Ronnie Long’s gigantic white barn.
Ronnie is standing in the middle of the dirt road leading directly into it. He’s in his wrestling gear - that is to say, the same jeans he works in, black boots, and that nice leather vest with the brass buttons that Deanna bought him. His hair is loose around his shoulders and his shades are hanging from the vest’s pocket rather than on his face.
“I’m aware that I’ve got the weight of ill deeds on my shoulders, and that the W:UK fans may be slow to forgive what I’ve done in the past. As much like NPW as it is here, it isn’t, in fact, NPW, and W:UK has only ever known me as a villain. Winning a battle royal - winning it with an assist from a guy who went on to call me a chump, incidentally fuck you Kalmin Watts you stuck up piece of shit - winning it without any eliminations besides the final one to my name, well, I know that’s less of a statement than it could be.”
“But then, I can think of lots of things in wrestling that are less of a statement than they could have been. For example, when someone wins the Commonwealth Championship by applying a submission hold to the broken arm of a guy who isn’t champion while the actual champion is tied up in the ring apron, well, that puts a big ol’ asterisk next to the bragging rights of finally taking that belt off Eron Hunter. JUST FOR EXAMPLE. ROB.”
Long grins, surprisingly white in the bright sunlight.
“But circumstances have conspired to move Rob Riot out of my path for the present, and instead I’ve got an, er, grudge match, against Eddie Havok.”
He shakes his head.
“Now my problems with Rob Riot, and to a lesser extent the rest of the Bastards, are entirely related to what goes on in the ring. Similarly, although I think in the end it’s going to be for the better, I don’t appreciate Wesley Crane putting his fucking nose in The Foundation’s business. Daeriq’s just lucky he does as good a job as keeping his ear to the ground as he did.”
“But speaking of that, The Foundation left me… what?”
“Yeah, that’s not how it went. I mean, I’m pretty sure the Foundation was Daeriq Damien’s brainchild… pretty sure the Glucks didn’t try to take the name with them… not sure at all if Eddie knows the difference between Kirsty McKinney and Kirsty Mascara.”
Long looks at the ground and scratches the back of his head.
“But honestly, I think Eddie Havok may just not be that smart. He said and I quote, ‘damn that was so long ago, I'm not sure anyone that cares, can actually remember that far.’ All the way back through the mists of time, those foggy aeons, to… er, December 2022. Four months ago.”
“Anyway, ‘what’ve you done lately’ may not be the greatest argument, but ‘I know what you’ve done lately but what did you do before that?’ isn’t any better. Actually it’s far worse.”
He looks up.
“But enough pedantry. It’s a fact that Daeriq splitting his time between me and the Glucks didn’t do me any favors. And that I’ve got some proving to do - to myself and everyone else. But I never pulled an Eric Dane - never tried to big league W:UK, never tried to flex what I did in NPW and a bunch of places from fifteen years ago to try and move up the card. I was fine fighting the fights I wanted to fight and helping make the Commonwealth Championship mean something.”
“And now, look what happens. One perspective realignment later, and I’ve got that big win under my belt, and a path to the top of the card in my hands, and it all happened organically. The only problem is, I’ve got this former champion who’s stuck on the fact that I never beat Eron Hunter, and as far as serious statement wins go, you’d have to go back to that six way dance. Hunter knows his data though, so I’ma point out that I’m actually 2 and 1 against the guy who put me on the shelf. So getting stuck in a quagmire with two, hate to say it, but two of the best in the promotion don’t change the fact that I earned my place at that table.”
“Oh yeah, and the battle royal.”
Long chuckles, glancing down at the ground.
“Eddie’s dancing all around the battle royal. What’d you do before, what about all those times you didn’t win, or just didn’t work because the Glucks were booked? Who cares? I won a twenty person open-invitational battle royale. I beat all of them. One of TOW’s best. Our own British Television Champion. Over half of the High Roller’s Club. You want to ask what I did besides win that? What do I NEED besides that?”
He spreads his arms open, begging the question.
“Yeah, some empty shell, huh?”
“I don’t need anything else. I’m the number one contender Eddie, and for all your talk about what I didn’t do, you’re the one punching up. But I’m aware, keenly aware, that on one hand losing a singles match before my World Title shot would be a bad visual. And on the other, that beating a former World Champion on my way to my title shot would be a great one.”
Another shiny white grin.
“And that’s why you are in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“But hey, by the time I’m done with you? Maybe after you recover from your concussion and earn your way back up the card and they book a third Havok/Long grudge match?”
“You’ll be carrying a grudge to remember.”
Brief silence, then fade.
Ronnie is standing in the middle of the dirt road leading directly into it. He’s in his wrestling gear - that is to say, the same jeans he works in, black boots, and that nice leather vest with the brass buttons that Deanna bought him. His hair is loose around his shoulders and his shades are hanging from the vest’s pocket rather than on his face.
“I’m aware that I’ve got the weight of ill deeds on my shoulders, and that the W:UK fans may be slow to forgive what I’ve done in the past. As much like NPW as it is here, it isn’t, in fact, NPW, and W:UK has only ever known me as a villain. Winning a battle royal - winning it with an assist from a guy who went on to call me a chump, incidentally fuck you Kalmin Watts you stuck up piece of shit - winning it without any eliminations besides the final one to my name, well, I know that’s less of a statement than it could be.”
“But then, I can think of lots of things in wrestling that are less of a statement than they could have been. For example, when someone wins the Commonwealth Championship by applying a submission hold to the broken arm of a guy who isn’t champion while the actual champion is tied up in the ring apron, well, that puts a big ol’ asterisk next to the bragging rights of finally taking that belt off Eron Hunter. JUST FOR EXAMPLE. ROB.”
Long grins, surprisingly white in the bright sunlight.
“But circumstances have conspired to move Rob Riot out of my path for the present, and instead I’ve got an, er, grudge match, against Eddie Havok.”
He shakes his head.
“Now my problems with Rob Riot, and to a lesser extent the rest of the Bastards, are entirely related to what goes on in the ring. Similarly, although I think in the end it’s going to be for the better, I don’t appreciate Wesley Crane putting his fucking nose in The Foundation’s business. Daeriq’s just lucky he does as good a job as keeping his ear to the ground as he did.”
“But speaking of that, The Foundation left me… what?”
“Yeah, that’s not how it went. I mean, I’m pretty sure the Foundation was Daeriq Damien’s brainchild… pretty sure the Glucks didn’t try to take the name with them… not sure at all if Eddie knows the difference between Kirsty McKinney and Kirsty Mascara.”
Long looks at the ground and scratches the back of his head.
“But honestly, I think Eddie Havok may just not be that smart. He said and I quote, ‘damn that was so long ago, I'm not sure anyone that cares, can actually remember that far.’ All the way back through the mists of time, those foggy aeons, to… er, December 2022. Four months ago.”
“Anyway, ‘what’ve you done lately’ may not be the greatest argument, but ‘I know what you’ve done lately but what did you do before that?’ isn’t any better. Actually it’s far worse.”
He looks up.
“But enough pedantry. It’s a fact that Daeriq splitting his time between me and the Glucks didn’t do me any favors. And that I’ve got some proving to do - to myself and everyone else. But I never pulled an Eric Dane - never tried to big league W:UK, never tried to flex what I did in NPW and a bunch of places from fifteen years ago to try and move up the card. I was fine fighting the fights I wanted to fight and helping make the Commonwealth Championship mean something.”
“And now, look what happens. One perspective realignment later, and I’ve got that big win under my belt, and a path to the top of the card in my hands, and it all happened organically. The only problem is, I’ve got this former champion who’s stuck on the fact that I never beat Eron Hunter, and as far as serious statement wins go, you’d have to go back to that six way dance. Hunter knows his data though, so I’ma point out that I’m actually 2 and 1 against the guy who put me on the shelf. So getting stuck in a quagmire with two, hate to say it, but two of the best in the promotion don’t change the fact that I earned my place at that table.”
“Oh yeah, and the battle royal.”
Long chuckles, glancing down at the ground.
“Eddie’s dancing all around the battle royal. What’d you do before, what about all those times you didn’t win, or just didn’t work because the Glucks were booked? Who cares? I won a twenty person open-invitational battle royale. I beat all of them. One of TOW’s best. Our own British Television Champion. Over half of the High Roller’s Club. You want to ask what I did besides win that? What do I NEED besides that?”
He spreads his arms open, begging the question.
“Yeah, some empty shell, huh?”
“I don’t need anything else. I’m the number one contender Eddie, and for all your talk about what I didn’t do, you’re the one punching up. But I’m aware, keenly aware, that on one hand losing a singles match before my World Title shot would be a bad visual. And on the other, that beating a former World Champion on my way to my title shot would be a great one.”
Another shiny white grin.
“And that’s why you are in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“But hey, by the time I’m done with you? Maybe after you recover from your concussion and earn your way back up the card and they book a third Havok/Long grudge match?”
“You’ll be carrying a grudge to remember.”
Brief silence, then fade.