Post by The Brothers Holland on Aug 12, 2010 11:49:23 GMT -6
There's a common trend among us humans.
Us poor, weak willed humans.
We see something we want, we take it
Even if it's not free to be taken.
We have something someone else wants, we keep it
Even if we don't want it ourselves.
We see something we don't agree with
We destroy it
Even if we don't understand it
Especially if we don't understand it.
But some of us are tired of the fighting
The bickering
The arguing.
The tyrannical regimes of the corrupt
The powerless regimes of the weak
Some of us have chosen our sides
Some chose to hide among the strong
To claim superiority on the backs of others
Some chose to protect the weak
Because if they do not, who will?
Some of us haven't decided yet.
And some of us
Will never have the luxury of choice
Us poor, weak willed humans.
We see something we want, we take it
Even if it's not free to be taken.
We have something someone else wants, we keep it
Even if we don't want it ourselves.
We see something we don't agree with
We destroy it
Even if we don't understand it
Especially if we don't understand it.
But some of us are tired of the fighting
The bickering
The arguing.
The tyrannical regimes of the corrupt
The powerless regimes of the weak
Some of us have chosen our sides
Some chose to hide among the strong
To claim superiority on the backs of others
Some chose to protect the weak
Because if they do not, who will?
Some of us haven't decided yet.
And some of us
Will never have the luxury of choice
*A darkened room is visible. A single shaft of light extending into the gloom, clearly defined by it's own existence. It strikes the wall to one side, catching the dull metal of some lockers, the cleaner, shinier metal glinting slightly. The sound of a single drip of water can be heard from somewhere in the room. It keeps time with the world, counting down the seconds 'til doomsday... or someone comes along and shuts off the tap or fixes the pipe or whatever the cause is.
A shadows steps across the light and becomes slightly visible in the darkness.*
Dave: Milo?... You in here?
Milo: Yep.
Dave: Ok... why?
Milo: I like the dark. The dark offers protection. It offers solitude, concealment. It gives the weak a place to rest and the strong a mighty stronghold to strike from. Those that can use the dark to their advantage have little to fear from those who can't. Everyone knows of the dark places. Everyone visits them at some point or other, be it literally or figuratively. Hell, we were practically raised in the dark. Out of sight, out of mind. Seems like such a state of being has followed us around quite a bit.
Dave: Let me guess... you caught Doc's piece didn't you.
Milo: I may have overheard some words from a certain individual.
Dave: So.. what? Now you've decided to come over all dark and broody to make a point?
Milo: What? What point?
Dave: I don't know you're the guy sitting in the dark, dank locker room talking about liking the darkness.
Milo: Oh, right. Well yeah I'm also a bit hungover.
Dave: Well come one, we've got training to do.
*Dave is barely visible as he goes to the source of the light and moves something around. The room is flooded with light suddenly showing Milo sat on a bench at the back of the room.*
Milo: Can't it wait?
Dave: No. Because you saw what Doc had to say. He wants to go around thinking he's the big bad, that's his business. But no one calls us pushovers and gets away with it. I don't know where he was coming from when he called us pay per view warm up practice monkeys but I'm going to make sure we feed him those words with a side of foot and a fist garnish. After we're done with him, his partner and his pet Hick, there's never going to be such a monumental mistake made again.
Milo: Alright, I'm up.
*He isn't. In fact it looks as though Milo's getting settled for a nap. Dave looks to the sink. There's a glass nearby which has been dripped into fairly consistently for god knows how long. Dave picks it up and throws the water at Milo. Milo reacts as nearly anyone who had this done to them would, with a shout and jumping straight to his feet, rubbing the water off of him as best he can with his bare hands. Dave gives the tap another twist and the drip stops.*
Milo: Oh.. I wondered what that was.
Dave: Come on.
*Dave and Milo walk past the camera and off screen.*
So... Doc, you have a sob story. Got yourself a nice little vice behind you. One that you've overcome and moved on from. Struggling from day to day just to try and stay normal and clean. Well done you. You've joined a rather elite club made up of the millions of alcoholics, drug addicts, nymphomaniacs, psychotics, sociopaths, egomaniacs, megalomaniacs and from what I can tell most wrestlers.
You want to bitch about why your life sucked and how you're stronger now for it, you picked all manner of the wrong audience. See, we were that poor girl you were describing, Doc. It's not literal, it's a little abstract but the premise is the same. We were little kids, we had perfect little lives. It wasn't quite so perfect as was told about your girl, maybe we weren't the envy of everyone, maybe there wasn't quite so much hate directed at us but I'm guessing that's down to a clash of personalities there.
See... we are that good. You might not think so because you focus purely on the win, Doc... but we've always been about picking our battles. About choosing our causes and following the path we want to follow. Not necessarily to the gold or the glory, but to greatness nonetheless. Maybe that's why in our greatness we are hailed as such. Maybe that's why we get all the applause and praise that you can't understand.. while all you feel is scorn and hatred from those around you. Because under it all, they all know that you don't care about them. I bet even your fellow tag champion knows it. I bet deep down, Venom knows that you can't be trusted. Because it's all about the win for you. No matter the cost.
Even if that cost is a team mate? A stable mate?
What on earth would Charlie think if he knew that about you?
I guess we'll find out one day... and don't any of you come to me when it happens because I'll have just four words for you.
I told you so.
Now where was I... oh yes the darkness in our past, right. We were the happy go lucky cheerleader. But then, our lives were raped. They had their innocence torn from them and we were forced to stare at the cold grim world of the deepest, darkest gutter. And then we picked ourselves up and we got on with our lives. It took twenty years to do it but hey, we're all fine now. Scarred, apparently scorned, but still whole and healthy. The difference between our metaphor and yours?
Your rape was self inflicted. I'm happy you're over it... but don't ask for pity. You'll find none here.
*The scene changes to another room. This one is decorated in a japanese style. Kind of like a martial arts dojo. Along the one wall are a load of samurai swords of varying style. Some are long, some are short. Some are metal, others wooden. Some of the ones mounted higher up on the wall are clearly ancient relics of a long gone dynasty. Much Like the Young Guns... no I kid, I kid.
Stood in front of the swords is a man dressed in Kendo robes and wearing the mask over his face. Another, considerably larger, man walks in dressed in the same way.*
Milo: I look like an idiot.
Dave: No you don't, you look like a samurai.
Milo: Really?
Dave: No. You look like a seven foot tall guy who's about to get hit an awful lot with a styled up stick.
Milo: Yeah, I meant to ask... why are you about to hit me with a stick a bunch of times?
Dave: For funsies.
Milo: I'm outta here.
Dave: And also to hone reflexes. You're the big man in this ring, no one's disputing that. You get your hands on a man, their life is yours. You hold a man's throat and he's almost completely in your power. But until then you are vulnerable. You need to learn two skills, Milo. Prediction and Reaction.
Milo: And how will this help?
Dave: Trust me. You'll love it once you get the hang of it.
Milo: Ok... but tomorrow we do something I wanna do.
Dave: Deal.
*Dave tosses a kendo stick to Milo who catches it and looks at it in a confused way. Well, we can't see it but the mask tilts to that angle dogs tilt their heads at when they don't fully understand something. Dave makes the first attack and Milo instinctively parries it away. They continue to fight, Dave doing better but gradually Milo does better and better. Still not as good as Dave but.. improvement does start to show.*
So... you boys won yourself some tag titles did you. Finally added the 'Young Guns' name to the list of nCw champions did you? 'Cause I'm sorry but we don't see it. You didn't win the titles, you were given them. I'm not saying that doesn't make you champs because unfortunately when you live halfway inside the bosses sphincter that's a legitimate way for the title to change hands in our chosen profession. I don't like it, but there's little I can do about it. Except maybe try and take them off your hands. Realistically, I don't think that's a risk we can take right now. Why?
Must be cowardice right? We've got to be absolutely terrified of your immense power to not want gold round our waist that you guys hold right? Well no. You boys don't scare us. So it's got to be awe right? We must be so dumbstruck by your abilities that even considering taking the belts from you seems like a hilariously unrealistic proposition right? Well yes and no. But for the intellectually challenged among you let's leave it at no. We know we could beat you in a fair fight.
Aha! And there we have it. A fair fight. We know you won't fight fair. What's the point in fighting fair if you can use your wide array of ambush and beat down tactics and talents to soften up the opposition? It's all part of the game right? It's all fair in war. Ends justifying all of the means right? So yeah. That's why we're happy to let you go on pretending to be champs. Because we're not stupid enough to paint a bullseye on our backs. Not without backup anyways.
Doesn't mean we won't leap in where we're needed. Like last week. Some people might have watched that and just walked on by. See no evil, hear no evil right? Don't draw attention and the front office will leave you alone. I suppose our little fixture this week is testament to that. But that's not the way we roll. Courage, strength and honour in everything we do. Protect them that need protecting, rescue them that need rescuing. Heroes personified.
Don't look at me, I just like a good fight and follow on where I'm told.
Well yeah, but you would've jumped in even if I wasn't there right?
Probably.
And you'd have done the same if the tables were turned, right?
Depends.
On what?
Whether it was Ron Gibson being attacked or not.
Fair enough. But the point is we made a choice that few would have made. We made a choice that, frankly, I don't think anyone here would have made. And that's a sad state of affairs, nCw... shame on you. When we were here before there wasn't anyone who would've let such a thing happen in front of them. What the hell happened in two years that changed so much around here? Or was that it? Was it because we weren't here? Were we really the only moral compass that people had to guide themselves by? Time will tell because we're going to drag you all back to the straight and narrow if we have to. And we're going to start by getting Jacobsen the justice he deserves. By causing the humiliation of the front office.. and the young guns. Two institutions... one massive rock. I don't doubt there'll be repercussions... but we'll deal with them all as they come. For now though... let's cause 'the world's greatest tag team' to think twice about the self proclaimed title.
Sounds good to me.
*The scene changes again. Now we're in a pub. There's a lot of people swirling around the room. Talking, drinking, playing darts or pool, and some are staring at a series of tables in the middle of the room. Currently they're vacant but they are clearly not normal tables. These are arm wrestling tables, specially designed for the competition.
Into the pub walks Milo Holland, rubbing his hands together and really looking forward to what's going on. Dave looks apprehensive but not scared. They go to the bar.*
Milo: Three Pints, please.
Dave: And a glass of water for me, please.
*The drinks arrive and Milo downs one of his three pints within fifteen seconds, with a sense that he was taking his time.*
Dave: So... arm wrestling then.
Milo: Yep.
Dave: Why?
Milo: Strength... endurance. I know you've got a mighty strong foot but what about your arms? Your hands? Your wrists? Like you said yesterday to me, I know I've got them beat on strength but not reflexes. I know you've got them beat on reflexes, or at least give them a good damn run for their money...
Dave: Your faith in my strengths is heart warming Milo.
Milo: But you don't have the strength I do so you don't have that advantage! Come on, what's your motto?
Dave: Learn... Adapt... Survive.
Milo: I've told you what to learn.. now all you need to do is adapt!
Dave: But one arm wrestle's not going to do that.
Milo: Which is why I entered us into a tournament. It's just a start. Come on.
Dave: What?...
*Milo has already moved away and taken his seat in chair number one. Dave is beckoned to chair number sixteen at the complete opposite end. Between Dave and Milo are sat fourteen other guys, all of them built like the proverbial outhouse. Unlike Dave, the upper body strength of these men is not so well hidden. The first round begins and almost immediately Milo has won his bout.*
So... you don't respect us at all huh? Some things are left unsaid. Some deeds are left unsung. The ones who refuse to respect others no matter what are often the ones shouting the loudest demanding respect from everyone else. They don't see the unsaid achievements. They don't look for the unsung glories. They know what they've seen and that's enough for them. Some people don't understand that there's more to the world than what's visible in their comfortable little circle. The greatest challenges often lie without. With no real view or comparison to make, who are they to judge these deeds as lesser purely because they didn't happen within their sight? Arrogance defined. That's all it is. I've nothing to fear from the arrogant. I know the deeds of my past, I know the deeds of my brother's, and I know they were mighty. Did we ask for your respect? No.
Did we deserve your disrespect? Hell no. Who the hell do you think you are? A world champion? A tag champion? A slayer of giants? What do we care? World championship aside these are acts that we have done ourselves. Isn't that right Venom? Like you said yourself, we've crossed paths before, we've taken tag belts from you. Sure there were things going on at the time that distracted you, sure there were other men involved that let you and yours down. Enabled us to claim our victory over you all... but you're not going to let a little excuse like that get in your way are you? I certainly hope not. I've been waiting for this rematch for a long time, and I don't doubt we'll not need to not... wait... I'm sure we'll be getting our chance soon enough. Because after you boys find yourselves fallen at our feet, I'm sure big boss man will demand you take your revenge properly. I'm even sure he'll want to make sure you do it right next time. Shame about the indignity of this time though.
And don't worry, we haven't forgotten the true score of the past. We remember that first match we had those years ago. We know you beat us before we beat you. But see, here's the thing. That wasn't us. It was... but no longer. The guys who were here two years ago... that wasn't us. They became us, but two years, as we keep saying, is a long time. We're here now with nothing but a name. We're playing the big boys game as rookies once again. So when everything goes as it will, when the match is ended and everything is over this can't go badly for us. Either way. Because on the one hand... you might win. I can't deny that it's a real possibility. But if you do, what will people think? 'They must be rustier than we thought.' 'They weren't ready for that yet, should've waited a while longer'. No shame in defeat in only our second match against the tag champions of nCw. No shame at all.
But when we win... what's going to be said? It'll go one of two ways. Either people will ignore the last two years. Forget we've been away so long and just keep on praising our names. 'The Hollands are really back, it's as though they never left'. But personally... I hope they don't. I hope they remember that we may as well be newcomers to this sport, slowly picking it up as we go along once again... because then there's only one thing that could possibly be said.
'The Young Guns were beaten by rookies. Ha! Ha! Ha!'
You'll be a laughing stock. A joke. A punchline at the top of the tag division. Your legacy means nothing to us and this specific incarnation of the young guns will have it's legacy ruined even as it's just beginning. Doc and Venom... what a *** damn joke.
That thought alone will have us fighting harder than any title, any gold, any reward could ever have.
See, the thing about a legacy is that it's all in the past. The past only informs the present.. if you pay no heed to the mind games and the tricks the past can play it means nothing. It must be respected, the accomplishments of your group are amazing if you place great worth upon such trinkets, but respect is where it ends. We don't fear facing up to your past, we're not intimidated by it so I suggest you stop trying to do so. In fact, Doc listen up, I suggest that you specifically, shut the hell up. Because if there's something your rant told us it's that you know absolutely nothing about us. We never did cross paths and we never claimed we did. That such a thing has occurred is quite surprising, the worlds we live in, but not unheard of.
You seem to think you know everything about us. Right from shining up people shoes backstage, hoping that illness might cause a cancellation and we could have our big shot, right up to jumping ship from the old company because we had a premonition that the great and mighty Doc was approaching, oh no, whatever should we do? Run... run and hide. Hide far away! You know nothing. There was no boot shining, there was no waiting for a hand out. We turned up, we got ourselves a match, and the rest is history. All within a week or two of dropping by the hospital bed of Spike Kane, an old friend of ours.
We left the company because of the company. At the time it felt like fatigue but the truth is that we stopped caring. There's more to a company than the people on the roster. A lot of it can't be pinpointed, can't be singled out. But the real reason we came here rather than going back was one simple word. Home. nCw was like a home to us. Right from the start. Then the time came to retire, it felt right. And now we're back... it still feels like home.. but nCw now feels like a home that has been violated. As though we were sleeping peacefully upstairs until we heard a noise downstairs. Our home is no longer safe but that doesn't mean we're about to abandon it.
*Dave has worked his way through his first match though it took a little while. Milo struggled a little with his second round but still won in a quick time, whereas Dave held on a long time in the second match only to lose. Right now, Milo is facing off in the final round of the tournament and Dave is arm wrestling for third place.*
So... we'll fight. We'll fight alongside the revolution as and when they need us. Our enemies' enemies will surely be our friends. Between now and when you hear from us again we'll be getting in touch with Jacobsen, working on our strategy because this match is more than a tag match. It's a 6 man tag match. Two tag teams, two individuals. You know your man, we still need to know ours. We will do though, because if there's anything we know, it's tag competitions. In the past we bore a certain stigma. It wouldn't surprise me if we gained it again. Tag specialists. Unable to break that oh too prevalent glass ceiling of singles competition. Which means that you boys have stepped into our playground. I don't know how long you've been doing this together. A few months. A couple of years? Maybe 5? Doesn't matter because I can guarantee that we've been tagging longer than you've been wrestling. Maybe not in any official capacity but teamwork is teamwork. We know each other better than any two wrestlers, than any two other people know each other.
It's been said we're like one person in two bodies. Working in harmony perfectly. So while you weren't watching us, we were out in the big bad world making our name. Showing our skills. You'd struggle to find anyone who hasn't even heard our name with direct reference to us, our abilities and our achievements. Wherever we went we were the team to beat. Whenever we arrived we drew attention, we were the team to beat. When we came to the other company the Young Guns were a shadow of themselves, and we beat them. We took the last tag title the Young Guns held while we were there. We ended them as a team. We saw the Young Guns die. We made the Young Guns die. After that we remained the team to beat until the day we left. Only after that time did they return. Only after that time did you return.
The same thing happened here! You weren't here, we were. We did our thing until the day we had that self same premonition of the dangerous and magnificent Doc and his band of merry men approaching on the horizon, and we fled for our lives. Get over yourselves you irritating bunch of self acclaiming crapsacks.
Did we want to be there or here in a time of 'easy competition' and 'lack of a real challenge'? No, and I'm not entirely convinced we were. From the way you talk about us, Doc, you make it sound as though we're despicable criminals who intended to steal as much glory as we could from under the noses of the great and the wonderful. Not so. If such a crime was committed it was one of unfortunate timing, not of intent. I don't expect you to believe us or even to listen, because you're clearly an ignorant fool, but the truth will come out in time. We'll prove it to you all. We'll prove to all the disbelievers that have spread and multiplied in our absence that The Brothers Holland truly are the single greatest tag team in existance, current, past and future.
*Dave and Milo have both won their matches. Dave struggled again for a while but dug in and pulled out the victory. Milo's just crazy strong so he won quite easily. He finishes his second and third beers in quick succession as Dave takes a huge swig of his water.*
Milo: How did that feel, huh?
Dave: How can you move that fast from the shoulder down when there's a big arm in the way?
Milo: Heh... it's a skill. Come on, let's head home.
*Dave and Milo leave the pub, Milo's name being added to a plaque on the wall marking the contest winners from the past. Dave is laughing at the whole situation while Milo just keeps telling him third's not bad for a newcomer.*
So... what are we fighting about? This was going to be a contest about justice. About Andrew Jacobsen getting what he deserves from the despicable breed of cretins that saw fit to jeopardise him. That was until Doc opened his mouth and dared to commit the gravest sin against a Holland.
The sin of disrespect.
Dislike, fine. We can cope with that. I'm sure our feelings will tolerate a few people not liking us. Disappointment, would be confusing but again, fine. Disbelief, again, fine. Don't believe in us. Don't think as highly of us as everyone else. Don't believe us when we say we're the best... when other people say we're the best. But disrespect... you honestly believe that in our whole careers we have accomplished nothing. That we're worth none of your time. If that was the case you would have ignored us, focussed on your real enemy and carried on as though we weren't even there. You chose to focus on us. Which suggests that we warrant your attention. Suggests that Doc knows a little more about us than your total idiocy that was described earlier suggests. He knows what we have done... he knows what we can do... and he knows not to be so flippent on game day. He knows deep within... he knows what he will never admit and will furiously deny... he knows exactly what everyone else who steps into our ring knows.
Excitement.
Potential.
Apprehension.
Fear.
It won't affect his game, he won't let it. But he feels it. Gibson just two weeks ago felt the sting of the Interception so I don't doubt he'll be angry as all hell, but also, deep within there'll also be fear. And as for Venom... The fear of history repeating is a horrible thing to face.
But listen to us all here. All caught up on Young Guns versus Brothers Holland. What about our partner, Mr Jacobsen? What about Ron Gibson?
Words for another time I feel... first I need to speak with the man that would be our partner in this endeavour. We'll talk again boys, I assure you of that.
*As the people in the pub carry on witht heir business the scene fades to black and the production ends.*
So... you're the Young Guns now...
So what?