Post by adm on Sept 30, 2011 8:55:50 GMT -6
Everyone's quick to blame the alien.
Aeschylus
Within the gym at closing time, the darkness descends not as if it were the lights simply being turned off, but that they are pressing out the light, that they are consuming it. Within that dimly lit, darkened sanctuary of muscle-building, is Kristoff Liam Bates. He is sitting on a chair overlooking the sweat-stained equipment and puddles he left throughout his day here. He is dressed in his street clothes, dripping with water from the showers. His eyes are reflective of the few fluorescent bulbs still left on in alternating sequences to keep enough illumination for the security cameras. On his way out, the doors will lock for the night.
"Good evening, Trent."
A coy smile crosses his face as he looks up at the camera from the chair. He is sitting with his arms draped over his legs like a man who is either tired from working out, or simply trying to look as if a spider preparing to pounce.
"Nice to finally get to meet you in that ring, Space Man. I don't know how many people call you that anymore, but it is what I will ALWAYS remember you as. From when I first arrived here, you were a legend. A man spoken of in high regard, no matter what crazy stunts or pop culture references you exhibited. And now, finally, after almost three years gracing this place, I finally get my first match against the one, the only...
Trent Helms."
He leans back in the chair, exposing his ripped jeans and I Fight Dragons tee for the world to see, before finishing his stretch and returning to the original position he was in, but this time putting a hand on his chin as though in deep thought.
"So what is it about you, Trent, that makes you feel you deserve a spot in the Hall of Fame, my signature on that lovely petition aside. Do you feel your one reign as World Champion and couple Tag Championships make you legendary? Do you feel it is the matches you had, that will forever be etched on the minds of many here? Or is it the antics you have done, much like your brutal assassination of Dave Holland last week at Battlegrounds? It's interesting, Trent, I see a few similarities between us.
Being outcasts, being odd individuals, our ability to draw attention...
But yet, I wait for you to speak those lovely words I want to hear, that everyone wants to hear. The words on the tip of your tongue like they have been on mine and many other fans for the last year and a half.
I am grateful for this Hall of Fame induction, and I'd like to thank the fans and all my great opponents that helped make it possible and elevated me to this level over the years."
At this, Kristoff moves his body up off the chair and begins to pace the room like a caged animal. His eyes become wild and he grabs the chair with both hands, picking it up and folding it in quick succession. He pats it on the ground like a batter getting ready to strike a ball.
"But you know, Trent...it's so easy to cripple someone in this business. Just look at what happened to Doc. Just look at what happened to Angel. All it takes, Trent, is just...one..."
He violently hits the chair on the exposed concrete floor, denting the top where it hit, and sending shudders up Bates' arms from the vibrating metal.
"Hit...you know it, I know it. That's exactly why you can't wait to be put into the Hall of Fame. You know, Trent, there are many gunning for you. Even without a title, you know the legend precedes the man. People KNOW you before they face you. You are a public figure, exposed and naked to the world. Your life is an open book, read by everyone. They all see your weaknesses, strengths, losses, triumphs. They know your friends, they know your allies, your enemies, the villains. They know your attempts to be a super hero, and your attempts to be a Lord Dominicus sized Super Villain. And you know that it is that kind of exposure, which leads you to believe you are owed, no...not just owed, you are EXPECTED to be given a Hall of Fame spot. But they snubbed you. They picked Angel. And I can only imagine, when Lex broke him over his back...you laughed. You laughed SO HARD, Trent. I can see you, sitting back and watching as they came to take the giant, the nCw's own bogeyman of Angel away. You laughed, and you felt he deserved it, as did I. I've faced him, and I know, even without having seen you in the ring before, that you were in line before him. Hell...Falcon was in line before him for his massive win total. But they snubbed the great Trent Helms and that is why...
You can't sleep. You can't eat. You can't do anything but think of why it is that you were passed up. It's why Road to the Gold is calling you. It's why you want to win the World Title again, to be more than just a paper champion from the past, to be a FORMER, you want it AGAIN because of all of this. You want to show them ALL what it is that you can do. And I know it.
And that's also why I want to beat you, Trent."
Bates looks at the damaged steel chair, and smiles coyly. Despite his admission in the past few weeks, there is a renewed zeal, a renewed fire in his eyes for competition. Freedom has come with the price of renewed vigor, zeal, and intensity.
"I just wonder, Trent. Do you think you can take me? Or are you afraid? I fought hard against Potter, lost gracefully without giving in, once again. And guess what, they noticed me, like always, and FINALLY put me in the Road to the Gold. I am getting a shot, like all the rest, to face the other Bates in this company...
Steve...
Yes, Steve Bates, potential twin? Half-Brother? Cousin? No-Relation? I don't know, I don't investigate the lineage of people with my last name that much. All I know, is that it appears with his luck as champion getting stuck with a LOW LIFE opponent like Ricky all the time, he's looking to be holding it for quite some time. Compensating, I guess, for some sort of in-ring skill. I mean, RICKY JOHNSON? Isn't he like, Jobber #5 behind Sexy Evans and JackHammer and Joe Everyman and his "brother" Zombie Mark Evil? Seriously...why even bother with facing him unless you just want to skip the hard opponents like your Helms and your Hollands and your Bates and Knites. I mean, it just seems like he's SCARED.
Fortunately, Trent, we have Road to the Gold. A GOLDEN opportunity, as it were, pardon my Ace-like pun. But it is, isn't it? It's a chance to seal your Hall of Fame spot for the Christmas season, a chance for me to show you all I'm more than just faking it. It's a chance for...Ricky Johnson to cheat his way to another Title Shot he is undeserving."
Bates shivers at the thought, as would anyone watching. Ricky Johnson, nCw Champion? Ugh...
"So we, gladiators and professionals, get a LOVELY opportunity for our first match together to be one of the highlights of this year's Road to the Gold. JOY! I mean, I get to face THE Trent Helms. Not masked Trent Helms or Imitation Steve Trent Helms or Rob Faker Helms or any other imitation, lite version, or substitutes. No, I get the no-filler, high-calorie, cholesterol imbued TRENT ****ING HELMS! I get the full meal, steak and potatoes, I get the man, the myth, the legend.
The sexiest man this side of the Andromeda galaxy...
TRENT HELMS! OH MY GOD."
Bates fakes a twelve-year-old girl impression upon meeting Justin Bieber, only to grab the steel chair and whip it across the room, holding his hand to his ear for the delicious "ping" of it hitting a metal rack of weights. His smile fades and a stark grimace falls over it like the changing moods of Cybil.
"So...you want to face Kristoff Bates. You want to be my next opponent. I'll show you, Trent. Bring your pop culture. Bring your stupid jokes. Bring your light-hearted laughter. Or you can bring the darkness, bring the stress, bring the fire. Bring whatever you want, Trent. But in the end, you are...
Washed up, old, has-been, just ready for retirement, worthless.
Just like any other Hall of Famer...you have very little, if anything, going for you these days. Holland had to wear a mask. Angel has a broken back. Spike is fighting obscurity and the legacy of his on-again-off-again with nCw brother, Brad. Lance Ryan is retired. Adam Knite is facing Kanyon and Kane for no beans. Falcon is winning meaningless matches against meaningless opponents. And Steve...though World Champion, keeps facing idiots like Ricky Johnson and losing non-title matches to Jimmy Zane. I'm sorry, Trent, but you and the rest of the Hall of Fame crowd have lost your zeal, lost your merit, lost your valor. It is TIME for a new face to come to the top of the company, to usher in an era of change.
Go ahead, joke about that and James Wolfe comparisons all you ****ing want, I DARE you.
But when it comes down to it, Trent, I am BETTER as a free man. I have no more burdens on my conscience to worry about. I'll take my wins, my losses, my ups and downs, all in stride. Because I am MYSELF for once. I am no longer the mask, the man hiding who he is, I am the REAL Kristoff Liam Bates.
And the rest of you, can just simply SHUT UP!"
Bates walks out the door and slams it hard, leaving us alone and wondering just whether he'll be bringing all that fire and passion to Collision, and Road to the Gold.
I can’t pass up this opportunity to make myself absurd,
I can’t pass up this opportunity to let myself be heard.
Would you, like to, be the one who sees me lose this all,
Would you, like to, be the one who sees me fall.
Aeschylus
Within the gym at closing time, the darkness descends not as if it were the lights simply being turned off, but that they are pressing out the light, that they are consuming it. Within that dimly lit, darkened sanctuary of muscle-building, is Kristoff Liam Bates. He is sitting on a chair overlooking the sweat-stained equipment and puddles he left throughout his day here. He is dressed in his street clothes, dripping with water from the showers. His eyes are reflective of the few fluorescent bulbs still left on in alternating sequences to keep enough illumination for the security cameras. On his way out, the doors will lock for the night.
"Good evening, Trent."
A coy smile crosses his face as he looks up at the camera from the chair. He is sitting with his arms draped over his legs like a man who is either tired from working out, or simply trying to look as if a spider preparing to pounce.
"Nice to finally get to meet you in that ring, Space Man. I don't know how many people call you that anymore, but it is what I will ALWAYS remember you as. From when I first arrived here, you were a legend. A man spoken of in high regard, no matter what crazy stunts or pop culture references you exhibited. And now, finally, after almost three years gracing this place, I finally get my first match against the one, the only...
Trent Helms."
He leans back in the chair, exposing his ripped jeans and I Fight Dragons tee for the world to see, before finishing his stretch and returning to the original position he was in, but this time putting a hand on his chin as though in deep thought.
"So what is it about you, Trent, that makes you feel you deserve a spot in the Hall of Fame, my signature on that lovely petition aside. Do you feel your one reign as World Champion and couple Tag Championships make you legendary? Do you feel it is the matches you had, that will forever be etched on the minds of many here? Or is it the antics you have done, much like your brutal assassination of Dave Holland last week at Battlegrounds? It's interesting, Trent, I see a few similarities between us.
Being outcasts, being odd individuals, our ability to draw attention...
But yet, I wait for you to speak those lovely words I want to hear, that everyone wants to hear. The words on the tip of your tongue like they have been on mine and many other fans for the last year and a half.
I am grateful for this Hall of Fame induction, and I'd like to thank the fans and all my great opponents that helped make it possible and elevated me to this level over the years."
At this, Kristoff moves his body up off the chair and begins to pace the room like a caged animal. His eyes become wild and he grabs the chair with both hands, picking it up and folding it in quick succession. He pats it on the ground like a batter getting ready to strike a ball.
"But you know, Trent...it's so easy to cripple someone in this business. Just look at what happened to Doc. Just look at what happened to Angel. All it takes, Trent, is just...one..."
He violently hits the chair on the exposed concrete floor, denting the top where it hit, and sending shudders up Bates' arms from the vibrating metal.
"Hit...you know it, I know it. That's exactly why you can't wait to be put into the Hall of Fame. You know, Trent, there are many gunning for you. Even without a title, you know the legend precedes the man. People KNOW you before they face you. You are a public figure, exposed and naked to the world. Your life is an open book, read by everyone. They all see your weaknesses, strengths, losses, triumphs. They know your friends, they know your allies, your enemies, the villains. They know your attempts to be a super hero, and your attempts to be a Lord Dominicus sized Super Villain. And you know that it is that kind of exposure, which leads you to believe you are owed, no...not just owed, you are EXPECTED to be given a Hall of Fame spot. But they snubbed you. They picked Angel. And I can only imagine, when Lex broke him over his back...you laughed. You laughed SO HARD, Trent. I can see you, sitting back and watching as they came to take the giant, the nCw's own bogeyman of Angel away. You laughed, and you felt he deserved it, as did I. I've faced him, and I know, even without having seen you in the ring before, that you were in line before him. Hell...Falcon was in line before him for his massive win total. But they snubbed the great Trent Helms and that is why...
You can't sleep. You can't eat. You can't do anything but think of why it is that you were passed up. It's why Road to the Gold is calling you. It's why you want to win the World Title again, to be more than just a paper champion from the past, to be a FORMER, you want it AGAIN because of all of this. You want to show them ALL what it is that you can do. And I know it.
And that's also why I want to beat you, Trent."
Bates looks at the damaged steel chair, and smiles coyly. Despite his admission in the past few weeks, there is a renewed zeal, a renewed fire in his eyes for competition. Freedom has come with the price of renewed vigor, zeal, and intensity.
"I just wonder, Trent. Do you think you can take me? Or are you afraid? I fought hard against Potter, lost gracefully without giving in, once again. And guess what, they noticed me, like always, and FINALLY put me in the Road to the Gold. I am getting a shot, like all the rest, to face the other Bates in this company...
Steve...
Yes, Steve Bates, potential twin? Half-Brother? Cousin? No-Relation? I don't know, I don't investigate the lineage of people with my last name that much. All I know, is that it appears with his luck as champion getting stuck with a LOW LIFE opponent like Ricky all the time, he's looking to be holding it for quite some time. Compensating, I guess, for some sort of in-ring skill. I mean, RICKY JOHNSON? Isn't he like, Jobber #5 behind Sexy Evans and JackHammer and Joe Everyman and his "brother" Zombie Mark Evil? Seriously...why even bother with facing him unless you just want to skip the hard opponents like your Helms and your Hollands and your Bates and Knites. I mean, it just seems like he's SCARED.
Fortunately, Trent, we have Road to the Gold. A GOLDEN opportunity, as it were, pardon my Ace-like pun. But it is, isn't it? It's a chance to seal your Hall of Fame spot for the Christmas season, a chance for me to show you all I'm more than just faking it. It's a chance for...Ricky Johnson to cheat his way to another Title Shot he is undeserving."
Bates shivers at the thought, as would anyone watching. Ricky Johnson, nCw Champion? Ugh...
"So we, gladiators and professionals, get a LOVELY opportunity for our first match together to be one of the highlights of this year's Road to the Gold. JOY! I mean, I get to face THE Trent Helms. Not masked Trent Helms or Imitation Steve Trent Helms or Rob Faker Helms or any other imitation, lite version, or substitutes. No, I get the no-filler, high-calorie, cholesterol imbued TRENT ****ING HELMS! I get the full meal, steak and potatoes, I get the man, the myth, the legend.
The sexiest man this side of the Andromeda galaxy...
TRENT HELMS! OH MY GOD."
Bates fakes a twelve-year-old girl impression upon meeting Justin Bieber, only to grab the steel chair and whip it across the room, holding his hand to his ear for the delicious "ping" of it hitting a metal rack of weights. His smile fades and a stark grimace falls over it like the changing moods of Cybil.
"So...you want to face Kristoff Bates. You want to be my next opponent. I'll show you, Trent. Bring your pop culture. Bring your stupid jokes. Bring your light-hearted laughter. Or you can bring the darkness, bring the stress, bring the fire. Bring whatever you want, Trent. But in the end, you are...
Washed up, old, has-been, just ready for retirement, worthless.
Just like any other Hall of Famer...you have very little, if anything, going for you these days. Holland had to wear a mask. Angel has a broken back. Spike is fighting obscurity and the legacy of his on-again-off-again with nCw brother, Brad. Lance Ryan is retired. Adam Knite is facing Kanyon and Kane for no beans. Falcon is winning meaningless matches against meaningless opponents. And Steve...though World Champion, keeps facing idiots like Ricky Johnson and losing non-title matches to Jimmy Zane. I'm sorry, Trent, but you and the rest of the Hall of Fame crowd have lost your zeal, lost your merit, lost your valor. It is TIME for a new face to come to the top of the company, to usher in an era of change.
Go ahead, joke about that and James Wolfe comparisons all you ****ing want, I DARE you.
But when it comes down to it, Trent, I am BETTER as a free man. I have no more burdens on my conscience to worry about. I'll take my wins, my losses, my ups and downs, all in stride. Because I am MYSELF for once. I am no longer the mask, the man hiding who he is, I am the REAL Kristoff Liam Bates.
And the rest of you, can just simply SHUT UP!"
Bates walks out the door and slams it hard, leaving us alone and wondering just whether he'll be bringing all that fire and passion to Collision, and Road to the Gold.
I can’t pass up this opportunity to make myself absurd,
I can’t pass up this opportunity to let myself be heard.
Would you, like to, be the one who sees me lose this all,
Would you, like to, be the one who sees me fall.