Failure State (Mouse Party X*Crown)
Aug 15, 2023 15:30:03 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 2 more like this
Post by bloodiedfox on Aug 15, 2023 15:30:03 GMT -5
“It is not sufficient that I succeed; everyone else must fail.”
Bloodied Fox sits upon the throne as it is dragged across the snowy landscape. It takes a moment of looking at the scene to realise that the sleigh on which his seat sits is being pulled by the hulking figure of SEIRIOS. If Fox has any thoughts on the surreal nature of this scene, his face isn’t showing them. Coat drawn close against the unseasonal cold, and with his custom X*Crown title belt resting on his shoulder, he idly picks at some the dried blood that stains the golden chair.
Depending on who you believe, either Ghengis Khan or François de La Rochefoucauld said that. Not that it really matters; what’s important is that it’s true and that at Night of Champions I exemplified it. Not only did I succeed in retaining my X*Crown against four challengers, but each of those four failed.
Sam Sawyer failed to prove their worth to TAPOUT.
BEEF failed to show he was anything more than some giant ambulatory slab of… well, beef.
Steve Awesome failed to become a three time X*Crown champion.
Florida Man failed to disprove the fact that he is nothing but a joke.
And maybe you could argue that they at least showed enough fighting spirit that they deserve one on one shots at me…
Fox pauses for a beat, then laughs mockingly.
You could if you were a fucking idiot. They had their shots and they blew it. Sawyer and BEEF can go back to the minor leagues; Florida Man can go back to his homeland of trans genocide and bubonic plague; Steve… well, there is a way Steve could get himself a one on one match with me, but I think we all know he’s too much of a damn coward to use that option. So no, back of the line they go. Of course, I am obligated to have monthly defences, so someone has to step up to face me in August. Plus, with GUNS on hiatus there has to be a venue as well…
I do so love killing two birds with one stone. Especially when one of them’s a Porg.
Fox smiles a cruel smile.
It really must stick in your craw that you have to feature me retaining my X*Crown on your little ego trip birthday bash, huh Marty? I know you’ll try to undercut it as much as you can: hostile crowd, hostile commentary, not putting the match in the main event, using my birth name instead of my real one in the advertising. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you do is going to change that I am going to ruin your big day in front of the world, and more especially in front of your insipid lady love. Honestly, the only lucky break you’re getting here is that you already had a match announced for yourself before I got added to the card, so you don’t have to further emasculate yourself by not taking the title shot.
Fox stops for a moment, looking at his title in deep thought. Then he continues.
See, I don’t get this, Marty. You beat me, and unlike your crack addict crocodile cohort it wasn’t a fluke. I don’t take many L’s, so that W of yours has currency. Yet you won’t cash it in. You won’t face me. You won’t come near me. Why is that, Marty? What are you afraid of? Are you afraid of failing, just like the four who challenged me at Night of Champions? Like you did when trying to retain your XHF Tag Team titles earlier that evening? Or are you worried Olly will finally get it through that dim little head of hers that you’re nothing but a spineless egotist taking the path of least resistance and her dear DILF is right that she can do far better.
He has another thoughtful pause.
Or maybe she actually deserves someone as terrible as you because she’s just that much of a vacuous cunt.
Fox does his best Toru Yano shrug, then resettles his belt on his shoulder.
But on to someone who actually deserves my attention: my challenger. Now this I have been looking forward to for quite some time; even before she stopped me knifing her washed up spouse. Mistress Discipline is a talented athlete who is overdue her shot at the greatest prize in professional wrestling. Of course, acknowledging that fact opens up the question of why that is. Why hasn’t MD fought one on one for the X*Crown before? Has someone or something held her back?
Fox holds forth his hands, tilting them up and down slightly under a critical eye, as though comparing two invisible loads.
Now on one hand we could accuse Death Trap of holding you back, keeping you in the tag scene through your pursuit of the titles and then lengthy hold of them, but it’s not like being a tag champion has ever stopped anyone here pursuing singles glory as well. Besides, just because my husband abandoned me doesn’t mean you should have abandoned yours…
But if we agree it’s not him, then doesn’t that logically mean we have to consider the blame lies with you? Did you just not push yourself? Did you just not want it bad enough? You were in FIRESIDE but never held the world title. Then when that place burned down…
Ba dum tish…
…you didn’t bother signing up anywhere else. Hell, the only reason this match is happening now is because you’re mad I almost made you a widow. The only thing motivating you to reach for the highest goal in this sport is avenging a man? Hardly feminism’s greatest moment, is it?
He leans back on the throne.
Look, it should be clear to anyone here who doesn’t have a deranged hate boner for me that I’m no Eric Dane. Women can do anything in the ring a man can. Which unfortunately for you, MD, means you are going to bleed, you are going to suffer, and you are going to lose. Not because you’re female, not because you lack desire for your own triumph, but because when someone steps into the ring with me they do not walk out victorious.
I succeed.
Everyone else fails.
Bloodied Fox sits upon the throne as it is dragged across the snowy landscape. It takes a moment of looking at the scene to realise that the sleigh on which his seat sits is being pulled by the hulking figure of SEIRIOS. If Fox has any thoughts on the surreal nature of this scene, his face isn’t showing them. Coat drawn close against the unseasonal cold, and with his custom X*Crown title belt resting on his shoulder, he idly picks at some the dried blood that stains the golden chair.
Depending on who you believe, either Ghengis Khan or François de La Rochefoucauld said that. Not that it really matters; what’s important is that it’s true and that at Night of Champions I exemplified it. Not only did I succeed in retaining my X*Crown against four challengers, but each of those four failed.
Sam Sawyer failed to prove their worth to TAPOUT.
BEEF failed to show he was anything more than some giant ambulatory slab of… well, beef.
Steve Awesome failed to become a three time X*Crown champion.
Florida Man failed to disprove the fact that he is nothing but a joke.
And maybe you could argue that they at least showed enough fighting spirit that they deserve one on one shots at me…
Fox pauses for a beat, then laughs mockingly.
You could if you were a fucking idiot. They had their shots and they blew it. Sawyer and BEEF can go back to the minor leagues; Florida Man can go back to his homeland of trans genocide and bubonic plague; Steve… well, there is a way Steve could get himself a one on one match with me, but I think we all know he’s too much of a damn coward to use that option. So no, back of the line they go. Of course, I am obligated to have monthly defences, so someone has to step up to face me in August. Plus, with GUNS on hiatus there has to be a venue as well…
I do so love killing two birds with one stone. Especially when one of them’s a Porg.
Fox smiles a cruel smile.
It really must stick in your craw that you have to feature me retaining my X*Crown on your little ego trip birthday bash, huh Marty? I know you’ll try to undercut it as much as you can: hostile crowd, hostile commentary, not putting the match in the main event, using my birth name instead of my real one in the advertising. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you do is going to change that I am going to ruin your big day in front of the world, and more especially in front of your insipid lady love. Honestly, the only lucky break you’re getting here is that you already had a match announced for yourself before I got added to the card, so you don’t have to further emasculate yourself by not taking the title shot.
Fox stops for a moment, looking at his title in deep thought. Then he continues.
See, I don’t get this, Marty. You beat me, and unlike your crack addict crocodile cohort it wasn’t a fluke. I don’t take many L’s, so that W of yours has currency. Yet you won’t cash it in. You won’t face me. You won’t come near me. Why is that, Marty? What are you afraid of? Are you afraid of failing, just like the four who challenged me at Night of Champions? Like you did when trying to retain your XHF Tag Team titles earlier that evening? Or are you worried Olly will finally get it through that dim little head of hers that you’re nothing but a spineless egotist taking the path of least resistance and her dear DILF is right that she can do far better.
He has another thoughtful pause.
Or maybe she actually deserves someone as terrible as you because she’s just that much of a vacuous cunt.
Fox does his best Toru Yano shrug, then resettles his belt on his shoulder.
But on to someone who actually deserves my attention: my challenger. Now this I have been looking forward to for quite some time; even before she stopped me knifing her washed up spouse. Mistress Discipline is a talented athlete who is overdue her shot at the greatest prize in professional wrestling. Of course, acknowledging that fact opens up the question of why that is. Why hasn’t MD fought one on one for the X*Crown before? Has someone or something held her back?
Fox holds forth his hands, tilting them up and down slightly under a critical eye, as though comparing two invisible loads.
Now on one hand we could accuse Death Trap of holding you back, keeping you in the tag scene through your pursuit of the titles and then lengthy hold of them, but it’s not like being a tag champion has ever stopped anyone here pursuing singles glory as well. Besides, just because my husband abandoned me doesn’t mean you should have abandoned yours…
But if we agree it’s not him, then doesn’t that logically mean we have to consider the blame lies with you? Did you just not push yourself? Did you just not want it bad enough? You were in FIRESIDE but never held the world title. Then when that place burned down…
Ba dum tish…
…you didn’t bother signing up anywhere else. Hell, the only reason this match is happening now is because you’re mad I almost made you a widow. The only thing motivating you to reach for the highest goal in this sport is avenging a man? Hardly feminism’s greatest moment, is it?
He leans back on the throne.
Look, it should be clear to anyone here who doesn’t have a deranged hate boner for me that I’m no Eric Dane. Women can do anything in the ring a man can. Which unfortunately for you, MD, means you are going to bleed, you are going to suffer, and you are going to lose. Not because you’re female, not because you lack desire for your own triumph, but because when someone steps into the ring with me they do not walk out victorious.
I succeed.
Everyone else fails.