Post by Freakke on Nov 26, 2010 23:50:15 GMT -6
What we've got here is failure to communicate
Some men you just can't reach
So you get what we had here last week,
which is the way he wants it... well, he gets it
I don't like it any more than you men
--- 10 Years Ago, Shortly After A Show In Phoenix ---
Some men you just can't reach
So you get what we had here last week,
which is the way he wants it... well, he gets it
I don't like it any more than you men
--- 10 Years Ago, Shortly After A Show In Phoenix ---
El Phantasmo limped away from his sixth straight loss and slumped up against the wall. The young luchador rubbed his head and sighed, his hand resting at the back of his neck and mask, and near the strings holding it in place. The urge to just rip the mask off in fury and throw it down the hall washed up and then away.
“What the hell do you think your doing?”
He looked up and saw his mentor striding towards him. He dropped his hand to his side and stood up slowly. El Phantasmo wasn't in the mood. As El Cazador reached him he started to walk away. He didn't make it far though.
“Where was your head tonight? Where has your head been for weeks now?”
El Phantasmo said nothing.
“Listen, I want you to do exactly the same exercise this week as last. I want it done everyday for at least 6 hours. Then I want you to go home and think about why you want to be a wrestler. I want you to throw some kindling on that fire that drives you. Otherwise I won't train you anymore.”
El Phantasmo looked at the older man and still said nothing. The thought crossed him to just blow passed the old man but he wouldn't.
“You need to have a reason or you won't survive in this industry. You need to find your drive.”
El Phantasmo was the last to leave that night. The next two weeks also produced losses, but each seemed to fuel a silent rage. The week after that would start a dangerous rivalry, and end his days in the Arizona promotion.
At the time, El Cazador had been satisfied with his pupil's progress.
--- Jack Krauss' Gym, Ravenwood, PA ---
Freakke the Carnival King sat alone in the empty ring. He sat on a simple fold up chair and looked down at the camera as it glared up at him from outside the ring.
”Ladies and gentlemen, I have to absolutely give props to Gib for thinking this match up. Its an interesting spectacle in the making I'm sure. The point of it all of course to keep Blair in the match to properly defend his title. He can't walk off like he did last week. He'd lose his belt in a heart beat if he did. That's not to say there isn't a loop hole for him to squeeze through though. Although it does mean no matter what we'll at least have a proper match. For the most part, Jason Blair might not even have to defend his title to lose it.”
”Lets break this match down a tad though. First of all, I do believe I have a slight disadvantage. I'm teamed with an ass. I'm stuck in the same corner as Jason flipping Blair. In all honesty, the man can defend the title successfully if he wants. There is and can be no denial of his talent. Where in lies the problem is that Jason Blair is an asshole, an ignorant S.O.B., and most notably; Jason Blair is a bitch. Perhaps his most noticeable quirk, is that he whines incessantly. The man can't go one week without running his mouth about how its a damn shame he has to put up with us miserable 'low life's'. Well, this week he has to deal with my **** and we're on the same team and guess what the best part is....”
He leaned in and the camera zoomed in on his face.
”He did it to himself, the dumb ass.”
He leaned back and the zoom rolled back.
”If Blair weasels out tonight, it proves how cowardly the bastard truly is. I'm sick of him giving everyone the shaft week in and week out. I'm pretty sick of him and his demeanor towards anyone that even looks at him sideways. And most of all I'm really sick of having to bitch about the bitchy one. I've been doing it for two months now and I'm sick of it. So, let's talk about something else. My opponents this week. Chuck Moss and Falcon.”
”Moss, all I've really got to say about you or to you is that I want you to remember whose the legal man in the ring. After the match, I don't care whose limbs you tear from their sockets. Until then, if its me in the ring, don't go after Blair. That'll get you dropped pretty damned fast. That's all.”
Freakke nodded and sat back.
”Or it really should be. You've been making as big an ass of yourself as Blair has. I'm sorry for you and your match getting screwed over but tell me you didn't expect that. Tell me you walked down there that week thinking it would be as simple as dropping the man for the 1,2,3. What pisses me off most is you went and screwed another guy out of his shot when he had it won. Well, I hope you remember that Falcon is your partner this week. He's going to be the one guy this week who doesn't want to pin you. That, my friend, is All.”
”And next to lastly, lets talk about Falcon. Falcon, last week really was a shame. I looked forward to working with one of the more esteemed members of the roster but as we all know, **** happens. That said, we're in opposite corners this week. Again, I'm looking forward to the match up, but again, I'm not gonna be surprised when something comes up and completely screws it all up. I expect a good match up from you though, Falcon. I don't think you'll disappoint either. That being said, I don't plan on going easy on you. If we're in the ring, we're in the ring seriously. I'm coming after you full tilt, and you best bring everything you've got to win. Just don't let your guard down. I don't trust my partner any more than I think you should trust yours. So good luck to ya Bird Boy.”
Freakke smirked but after a moment, a sullen look spread across his face. A sigh escaped him before he continued.
”Now, I've made mention of my tag partner, my opponents, and the match in general. I have to make note of one thing before we call it a night. I have to come clean in my part in all of this. I lost the belt to Blair in a fair match. I wanted my rematch. Looking back, I suppose I could have let it go, but I wouldn't. Now, I look back and wonder what it will take to fix this problem. What will it take to stop this entire mess from getting worse? What will it take for me to clean up this mess? What will I do to put this to rest?”
Freakke stood up and cracked his knuckles. A smile spread cross his lips but it felt forced.
”Whatever it takes. This is the end of Jason Blair's reign, one way, or the other. I will fight tooth and nail to see that made true. Until then, see ya around.”
Fade Out.
--- Charlie Smiles' Home ---
Charlie and Alice sat playing a video game while they waited for Mina to get done in the shower. El Cazador had gone to town to speak with Jack Krauss in regards to Charlie and his training. The two of them sat there watching the tv as the plucky little plumbers bounced around on turtles and little brown mushrooms.
“Your friends creepy.”
”He was worse ten years ago.”
“How? The guy never takes that mask off. How can he see anything?”
”He's blind. He doesn't see at all. Besides that's what luchador's do. Its how they live.”
“Weird.”
”Yeah, well, we live in a whats practically a giant fun house. It all depends on culture.”
“OK, but why is he here now? I thought you said he was done training you a long time ago.”
”Just checking up. He wants to retire and I'm kind of a black mark on his record.”
“I thought you were doing well.”
”I kind of am. ncw is really good to us. I've had a few titles there but I'm definitely not doing so well week to week. That's not why he's here though. I got hurt last time we trained together and it was really bad.”
“So he feels sorry for you?”
Charlie sighed.
”No, he doesn't feel as if he was done teaching me. A lesson or two left to pass on before he retires. What happened was partially everybody's fault. I took on a challenge I knew was crazy, my opponent was nuts, he encouraged the match, and most of all, the staff decided it would be a Tijuana Prison Match.”
“Whats a Tijuana Prison Match?”
”A steel cage entwined with barbed wire, bats, chairs, and tables tied to the wall, and no way to stop one guy from practically killing the other. You only stop when one guy can't go on or quits.”
“Thats horrible...who would even agree to that?”
Charlie paused a moment.
”I did...”