Post by Deleted on Mar 9, 2013 19:33:07 GMT -6
You’re going to save New Championship Wrestling?
What a grandiose ideal for a man of such meagre capabilities to affect such a radical change. You do not possess the skills to topple my empire, William. You’re just another in a long line of men who have deluded themselves into believing that I am a great malignancy which must be cast asunder from the upper echelons of this company based purely on blind jealousy.
You’ve bought into the fallacy that this place needs saving, just like the other little faux-revolutionaries who puff out their chests, try desperately to hide their thesaurus’ and attempt to paint the authority as the devil to a purely fictional enemy.
So many of you promise change, but deliver stagnant mediocrity.
New Championship Wrestling doesn’t require saving, William. When I roared through the field in the Road to the Gold and took my place at the table of the immortals I assumed my rightful position as the true, and only, Saviour of NCW. This company was draped in decadence, rotting slowly with corruption and deceit and like a rightful sword of justice I cleaved away the decay and healed the wounds.
With Kelly by my side I rid the board room of corporate yes men whose only concern was political position. I've gradually provided a level playing field where wrestlers are rewarded for their performances and granted opportunities that would otherwise be denied to them. I placed the old guard firmly in their place, leaving them to resort to novelty matches to pay their debts until they prove their worth instead of just waltzing in here and getting the world. Hell, I’ve not even hogged the spotlight despite being the champion, for the past month I’ve taken a step back to let guys like you have their moment.
There is nothing for you to save this company from beyond a self-prophesised impending Armageddon. I am not the antichrist, I am not the great enemy and I am not the devil in a bespoke Italian suit. I am simply a man who has stood by his word since the day he walked in here, which is a damn sight more than I can say for most of you.
All that is truly left for you to save is your dignity and come Monday morning, you won’t even have that.
I am the rarest of breeds; a revolutionary who has actually followed through and reached a plane beyond playing a gimmick. For men like Nathan Webb and all the rest of the Fidel-come-latelys , it is just a convenient angle from which to project their desires for personal gain whilst maximising their support levels by acting like a latter-day Robin Hood. Taking from insidious oligarchs who spread their pestilence across the federation and giving it back to “the people”.
That is what separates me from those who have simply promised much and delivered nothing. This has never been a gimmick. I promised change because it was my heartfelt desire to enact it and from my own indomitable will to succeed I have reached the top of the Mount Olympus and now I rub elbows with the rest of the pantheons.
I have everything that terminal failures like you crave. I am able to manipulate this federation into my image with one phone call, my face is on every single poster, my cup well and truly runneth over and perhaps most importantly…
I am the NCW World Champion.
Wrapped around my waist is the physical symbol of my absolute success, this embodies the triumph I've worked tirelessly towards for over two years. Men can go their whole careers without ever tasting the pure ecstasy that I enjoyed at the Road to the Gold, they can miss out on the unrelenting pride that I feel every time I walk out into those arenas as the symbol of the greatest wrestling federation in the world.
I live the life that you crave more than the air you breath. I’m everything that you are not and that eats you up inside.
You hide behind this fallacy of “saving” us all from the terrible evils of my tyrannical title reign because it is an easy shield from which you can deflect criticism. I am, in the eyes of the masses, the villain of every piece and it is far too easy, and convenient, for men like you to wag you fingers and call me bad names to get attention because you peddle the crap all the sheep want to hear.
It will take a damn sight more than pouring honey in the ears of vacuous fools to topple me from my pedestal.
You’re nothing more than a jealous little man who has watched a rookie skyrocket to levels of unparalleled fame and success whilst you’ve stagnated and barely caused a ripple. In the time it has taken you to drag yourself to a point of potential stardom you’ve had to watch men like me and Xander surpass you in every department in a fraction of the time.
You’ve become just a part of the furniture, stuck collecting dust dreaming of archaic glories which have long since passed and were only ever in the minority in a career blighted by ineptitude and an inability to achieve.
This Sunday will just be another addition to lengthy list of failures which weigh you down and erode your professional and personal pride.
For all you’ve played this up in your mind as your inevitable moment of redemption, when you cast aside the demons which have tormented you through years of inadequacy when measured against true greats like me, it is nothing but a mirage to perpetuate the lie you must convince yourself is the God’s honest truth.
That you’re my equal.
Because to accept anything else is to finally dig down deep inside and accept that your career will never measure up to the excessive expectations you've placed upon it. No man is ever keen to accept their mortality, nor their place in the hierarchy that binds us all in an endless cycle of jockeying for position, not least when their place is smack bang in the middle.
But feel some comfort in this...
You have little to lose when you have achieved nothing.
So let me get this straight…
( Victory over Nathan Webb + Month long crusade against a cripple) – ( Any significant title reign ) + ( Bullying Andrew Jacobsen + Forgettable Tag Title run )
X 3 Years
= Best in the Locker Room
Welcome to Will Washington’s Advanced Mathematics, please leave your objectivity, intelligence and ability to think critically at the door.
Can somebody give me what he’s been smoking?
Honestly I’m beginning to think it has become a default setting for my opponents to proclaim that they are a) superior in every way regardless of statistical fact, b) guaranteed to succeed simply because and c) the best that this federation has to offer in all but title….
And ability.
Perhaps I'm being a little too harsh on you Willy, but the fact is that when somebody told me I’d either be facing you or Nathan Webb at Crossroads this year it felt like all of my Christmas’ had come at once. I get to face either a deluded perennial failure with very few redeeming qualities or…well, a deluded perennial failure with very few redeeming qualities.
Let’s be blunt, just because I employ a few little parlour tricks to succeed in my role as villainous party pooper on a weekly basis to sell tickets for this company doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly become completely devoid of ability and am waiting to be steamrollered by the irresistible juggernaut that is Will Washington.
Mike Laszlo bought into that fallacy and now look where he is.
Desperately clinging to the vain hope that maybe one day I’ll be old and senile enough for him to sneak a victory because Lord knows I proved three times in a row that as long as I’m not in a coma he hasn’t got a chance in hell of depriving me of a belt of any significance. Although I guess slinking from one failed title match to another a little further down the ladder would actually be a career improvement for you.
I’ve proved time and time again that no matter how much guys like you claim you have it in you to beat me, until you actually apply that logic to reality I will continue to embarrass you almost routinely because instead of simply saying I am the better man, I actually go out there and prove it.
I offered up my title on a silver platter to Mike, I let him pick stipulations, I locked myself inside a cell and I gave him three separate opportunities, hell I did everything short of literally laying down for him and he still couldn’t get the job done.
So what makes you think you’re any different?
You’re neither more talented nor charismatic than the guy I just scored a hat-trick over, you’ve achieved even less than he has despite enduring a far longer tenure and your credentials for this week’s match consist of a victory of my pin cushion Nathan Webb, a flukey tag team victory where I wasn’t pinned, a failed attempt to circumvent the rules to beat me and….oh, yes, you patronised a recovering drug addict to make yourself look good.
Tommy the Cat deserves a shot at me just as much as you do for still turning up every other month to get his ass kicked if you’re the barometer of what constitutes a number one contender.
But, I digress, you’re here whether you really deserve it or not.
So, how do you think this weekend will go? Do you think you’re going to prance down to the ring like the prettiest girl at the prom and finally redeem yourself for years of abject inadequacy? That this is your chance to prove all the doubters wrong, win the big one, yadda, yadda, yadda….
Let me stop you right there.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the chronology of events you are about to involve yourself in will go a little like this. You’ll wake up in your 3 star hotel next to your oestrogen charged emotional crutch. Then you’ll make your way to the arena, soak up the adoration of the legions of webbed toed fans and sign a few autographs before making your way to your locker room. Once the night progresses you’ll put on your ring gear, do a few warms up, probably listen to some motivational music before making your way to ringside for your big moment. You’ll stand there, your body trembling with anticipation as you await my arrival and your one shot at finally silencing everyone who ever doubted you, who ever said you couldn’t be the man…
Then you’ll lose.
After that you’ll sink back to obscurity, retiring after being struck down with a crippling lack of talent before sinking into the world of bitter shoot videos with some ponytailed virgin on YouTube and eventually popping up on the Wikipedia recent deaths feed and potentially meriting a two page thread on some wrestling forum where nobody remembers who you are.
That is your fate, Will.
It isn’t to become the man who vanquished the giant, it isn’t to join the elite as a NCW World Champion and it sure as hell isn’t to end my title reign prematurely.
Why?
Because this weekend is about so many things for you, it is all one big carnival and you’re the special guest. You’ll indulge yourself in all the trappings of a big title match that you simply do not get to enjoy all that often and you’ll become distracted by the fear that all of this can be snatched away in an instance if you fail. You’re going to become absorbed in enjoying the moment because for you this comes but once a year and the idea that this is your shot at redemption.
For me this is just another day at the office.
I’m going to become the longest reigning NCW World Champion in company history and cement my legacy as one of the very best professionals to ever grace this ring. I’ve set my sights on this achievement since day one and I’m within mere months of not only achieving that dream, but crowning it at the biggest night in the year at A Night to Remember.
Whilst you enjoy the spotlight and all of the caveats it provides, I'm going to stay in the shadows, focused solely on getting the job done yet again and stamping out your dreams to further mine. I don't need to stroke my own ego to try and convince myself that the words I speak are the truth. At Crossroads, I'm going to beat you.
Not because I say I am the best.
But because I prove it, every single week.
What a grandiose ideal for a man of such meagre capabilities to affect such a radical change. You do not possess the skills to topple my empire, William. You’re just another in a long line of men who have deluded themselves into believing that I am a great malignancy which must be cast asunder from the upper echelons of this company based purely on blind jealousy.
You’ve bought into the fallacy that this place needs saving, just like the other little faux-revolutionaries who puff out their chests, try desperately to hide their thesaurus’ and attempt to paint the authority as the devil to a purely fictional enemy.
So many of you promise change, but deliver stagnant mediocrity.
New Championship Wrestling doesn’t require saving, William. When I roared through the field in the Road to the Gold and took my place at the table of the immortals I assumed my rightful position as the true, and only, Saviour of NCW. This company was draped in decadence, rotting slowly with corruption and deceit and like a rightful sword of justice I cleaved away the decay and healed the wounds.
With Kelly by my side I rid the board room of corporate yes men whose only concern was political position. I've gradually provided a level playing field where wrestlers are rewarded for their performances and granted opportunities that would otherwise be denied to them. I placed the old guard firmly in their place, leaving them to resort to novelty matches to pay their debts until they prove their worth instead of just waltzing in here and getting the world. Hell, I’ve not even hogged the spotlight despite being the champion, for the past month I’ve taken a step back to let guys like you have their moment.
There is nothing for you to save this company from beyond a self-prophesised impending Armageddon. I am not the antichrist, I am not the great enemy and I am not the devil in a bespoke Italian suit. I am simply a man who has stood by his word since the day he walked in here, which is a damn sight more than I can say for most of you.
All that is truly left for you to save is your dignity and come Monday morning, you won’t even have that.
I am the rarest of breeds; a revolutionary who has actually followed through and reached a plane beyond playing a gimmick. For men like Nathan Webb and all the rest of the Fidel-come-latelys , it is just a convenient angle from which to project their desires for personal gain whilst maximising their support levels by acting like a latter-day Robin Hood. Taking from insidious oligarchs who spread their pestilence across the federation and giving it back to “the people”.
That is what separates me from those who have simply promised much and delivered nothing. This has never been a gimmick. I promised change because it was my heartfelt desire to enact it and from my own indomitable will to succeed I have reached the top of the Mount Olympus and now I rub elbows with the rest of the pantheons.
I have everything that terminal failures like you crave. I am able to manipulate this federation into my image with one phone call, my face is on every single poster, my cup well and truly runneth over and perhaps most importantly…
I am the NCW World Champion.
Wrapped around my waist is the physical symbol of my absolute success, this embodies the triumph I've worked tirelessly towards for over two years. Men can go their whole careers without ever tasting the pure ecstasy that I enjoyed at the Road to the Gold, they can miss out on the unrelenting pride that I feel every time I walk out into those arenas as the symbol of the greatest wrestling federation in the world.
I live the life that you crave more than the air you breath. I’m everything that you are not and that eats you up inside.
You hide behind this fallacy of “saving” us all from the terrible evils of my tyrannical title reign because it is an easy shield from which you can deflect criticism. I am, in the eyes of the masses, the villain of every piece and it is far too easy, and convenient, for men like you to wag you fingers and call me bad names to get attention because you peddle the crap all the sheep want to hear.
It will take a damn sight more than pouring honey in the ears of vacuous fools to topple me from my pedestal.
You’re nothing more than a jealous little man who has watched a rookie skyrocket to levels of unparalleled fame and success whilst you’ve stagnated and barely caused a ripple. In the time it has taken you to drag yourself to a point of potential stardom you’ve had to watch men like me and Xander surpass you in every department in a fraction of the time.
You’ve become just a part of the furniture, stuck collecting dust dreaming of archaic glories which have long since passed and were only ever in the minority in a career blighted by ineptitude and an inability to achieve.
This Sunday will just be another addition to lengthy list of failures which weigh you down and erode your professional and personal pride.
For all you’ve played this up in your mind as your inevitable moment of redemption, when you cast aside the demons which have tormented you through years of inadequacy when measured against true greats like me, it is nothing but a mirage to perpetuate the lie you must convince yourself is the God’s honest truth.
That you’re my equal.
Because to accept anything else is to finally dig down deep inside and accept that your career will never measure up to the excessive expectations you've placed upon it. No man is ever keen to accept their mortality, nor their place in the hierarchy that binds us all in an endless cycle of jockeying for position, not least when their place is smack bang in the middle.
But feel some comfort in this...
You have little to lose when you have achieved nothing.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A fire crackles as the Mediterranean sea washes up violently against the cliff face, the sound of seagulls doing their best to navigate a safe journey back to the mainland shrieks through the cold air. Inside a small living room, locked away from the tumultuous weather conditions, are Roberto Verona and Hannah Reed who both sit in their own quiet solitude, barely moving a muscle as they are lost in a world that is completely oblivious to the violent natural struggle just outside. Letting out a big sigh, Hannah rolls over and stretches her long legs, shaking off the fatigure which had begun to set in.
Do we have to go home?
Verona rolls his head to one side, gazing at the body of his girlfriend draped out across the rug in front of the burning fire.
You know, we both have jobs to do right?
I know, but why would I ever want to tear myself away from pure bliss? Kelly can cope without us for a few more days….
I do have a match to prepare for Hannah.
I know but…
But nothing. We’ll have plenty of time to tour Europe, sometimes we have to deprive ourselves of luxuries so that we can still appreciate them later.
Oh great, you’re getting philosophical.
Not really, I was just hoping that if I used enough big words and acted like a Chinese scholar you’d stop trying to avoid the inevitable.
Verona smiles at Hannah, chuckling under his breath as he realises he is getting nowhere.
You can’t blame a girl for trying, who wants to spend their days rifling through legislature and threatening people?
Most days that would be you.
But that was before I got to come to Italy and escape the rat race.
Italy’s been here for thousands of years, I don’t think it’s going anywhere any time soon.
Neither is my paperwork…
Nice try.
Is there nothing I can do to persuade you to stay for longer?
Perfect cloning so somebody can wrestle my match?
Hannah sits up perkily, placing a finger on her lip as she looks away inquisitively. Roberto shakes his head.
That wasn’t a serious option…
Spoil sport.
Look, I promise, when I am done with my career, this is the life we will have. No more distractions, no more conference calls, no more stitching me up and trying to wash the blood out of my suits. Just you and me.
I just wish that day would come sooner.
Don’t go jinxing me just yet, I’ve got enough guys trying to wring my neck without you wishing harm on me.
You know what I mean, sometimes it just feels like se never get time to ourselves anymore.
Then we have to cherish every moment. My mission is far from complete, you career is far from over, we’ve just got to grin and bear it as best we can, make the most of the time we’ve got and remember that this will all be worth it in the end.
Promise?
I promise. If only because I can’t envisage having to live with your sister for the rest of my life, I swear she is affecting my life expectancy more then been thrown off cells and hit with chairs.
Try growing up with her…
Hannah leans back, resting her back up against Roberto’s chair and looking up at him as he places a hand on her head, gently stroking his fingers through her hair.
I love you.
I love you too. Everything will work out, despite everything we’re both still here and together. After everything, I think that’s a sign that we don’t need to rush to nirvana.
Still, we have a few hours left….why waste them?
Hannah stands up, running her hand playfully along Roberto’s torso before walking slowly towards a doorway, pulling her baggy shirt up over her shapely curves before tossing it to the floor.
When we get back, I may have to have you spayed, you do realise this?
Hannah turns, her naked back bared to the world as she lets her bra slip delicately from between her fingertips to the ground as she looks seductively over her shoulder.
That’s 30 seconds wasted, let’s not lose anymore.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A fire crackles as the Mediterranean sea washes up violently against the cliff face, the sound of seagulls doing their best to navigate a safe journey back to the mainland shrieks through the cold air. Inside a small living room, locked away from the tumultuous weather conditions, are Roberto Verona and Hannah Reed who both sit in their own quiet solitude, barely moving a muscle as they are lost in a world that is completely oblivious to the violent natural struggle just outside. Letting out a big sigh, Hannah rolls over and stretches her long legs, shaking off the fatigure which had begun to set in.
Do we have to go home?
Verona rolls his head to one side, gazing at the body of his girlfriend draped out across the rug in front of the burning fire.
You know, we both have jobs to do right?
I know, but why would I ever want to tear myself away from pure bliss? Kelly can cope without us for a few more days….
I do have a match to prepare for Hannah.
I know but…
But nothing. We’ll have plenty of time to tour Europe, sometimes we have to deprive ourselves of luxuries so that we can still appreciate them later.
Oh great, you’re getting philosophical.
Not really, I was just hoping that if I used enough big words and acted like a Chinese scholar you’d stop trying to avoid the inevitable.
Verona smiles at Hannah, chuckling under his breath as he realises he is getting nowhere.
You can’t blame a girl for trying, who wants to spend their days rifling through legislature and threatening people?
Most days that would be you.
But that was before I got to come to Italy and escape the rat race.
Italy’s been here for thousands of years, I don’t think it’s going anywhere any time soon.
Neither is my paperwork…
Nice try.
Is there nothing I can do to persuade you to stay for longer?
Perfect cloning so somebody can wrestle my match?
Hannah sits up perkily, placing a finger on her lip as she looks away inquisitively. Roberto shakes his head.
That wasn’t a serious option…
Spoil sport.
Look, I promise, when I am done with my career, this is the life we will have. No more distractions, no more conference calls, no more stitching me up and trying to wash the blood out of my suits. Just you and me.
I just wish that day would come sooner.
Don’t go jinxing me just yet, I’ve got enough guys trying to wring my neck without you wishing harm on me.
You know what I mean, sometimes it just feels like se never get time to ourselves anymore.
Then we have to cherish every moment. My mission is far from complete, you career is far from over, we’ve just got to grin and bear it as best we can, make the most of the time we’ve got and remember that this will all be worth it in the end.
Promise?
I promise. If only because I can’t envisage having to live with your sister for the rest of my life, I swear she is affecting my life expectancy more then been thrown off cells and hit with chairs.
Try growing up with her…
Hannah leans back, resting her back up against Roberto’s chair and looking up at him as he places a hand on her head, gently stroking his fingers through her hair.
I love you.
I love you too. Everything will work out, despite everything we’re both still here and together. After everything, I think that’s a sign that we don’t need to rush to nirvana.
Still, we have a few hours left….why waste them?
Hannah stands up, running her hand playfully along Roberto’s torso before walking slowly towards a doorway, pulling her baggy shirt up over her shapely curves before tossing it to the floor.
When we get back, I may have to have you spayed, you do realise this?
Hannah turns, her naked back bared to the world as she lets her bra slip delicately from between her fingertips to the ground as she looks seductively over her shoulder.
That’s 30 seconds wasted, let’s not lose anymore.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So let me get this straight…
( Victory over Nathan Webb + Month long crusade against a cripple) – ( Any significant title reign ) + ( Bullying Andrew Jacobsen + Forgettable Tag Title run )
X 3 Years
= Best in the Locker Room
Welcome to Will Washington’s Advanced Mathematics, please leave your objectivity, intelligence and ability to think critically at the door.
Can somebody give me what he’s been smoking?
Honestly I’m beginning to think it has become a default setting for my opponents to proclaim that they are a) superior in every way regardless of statistical fact, b) guaranteed to succeed simply because and c) the best that this federation has to offer in all but title….
And ability.
Perhaps I'm being a little too harsh on you Willy, but the fact is that when somebody told me I’d either be facing you or Nathan Webb at Crossroads this year it felt like all of my Christmas’ had come at once. I get to face either a deluded perennial failure with very few redeeming qualities or…well, a deluded perennial failure with very few redeeming qualities.
Let’s be blunt, just because I employ a few little parlour tricks to succeed in my role as villainous party pooper on a weekly basis to sell tickets for this company doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly become completely devoid of ability and am waiting to be steamrollered by the irresistible juggernaut that is Will Washington.
Mike Laszlo bought into that fallacy and now look where he is.
Desperately clinging to the vain hope that maybe one day I’ll be old and senile enough for him to sneak a victory because Lord knows I proved three times in a row that as long as I’m not in a coma he hasn’t got a chance in hell of depriving me of a belt of any significance. Although I guess slinking from one failed title match to another a little further down the ladder would actually be a career improvement for you.
I’ve proved time and time again that no matter how much guys like you claim you have it in you to beat me, until you actually apply that logic to reality I will continue to embarrass you almost routinely because instead of simply saying I am the better man, I actually go out there and prove it.
I offered up my title on a silver platter to Mike, I let him pick stipulations, I locked myself inside a cell and I gave him three separate opportunities, hell I did everything short of literally laying down for him and he still couldn’t get the job done.
So what makes you think you’re any different?
You’re neither more talented nor charismatic than the guy I just scored a hat-trick over, you’ve achieved even less than he has despite enduring a far longer tenure and your credentials for this week’s match consist of a victory of my pin cushion Nathan Webb, a flukey tag team victory where I wasn’t pinned, a failed attempt to circumvent the rules to beat me and….oh, yes, you patronised a recovering drug addict to make yourself look good.
Tommy the Cat deserves a shot at me just as much as you do for still turning up every other month to get his ass kicked if you’re the barometer of what constitutes a number one contender.
But, I digress, you’re here whether you really deserve it or not.
So, how do you think this weekend will go? Do you think you’re going to prance down to the ring like the prettiest girl at the prom and finally redeem yourself for years of abject inadequacy? That this is your chance to prove all the doubters wrong, win the big one, yadda, yadda, yadda….
Let me stop you right there.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the chronology of events you are about to involve yourself in will go a little like this. You’ll wake up in your 3 star hotel next to your oestrogen charged emotional crutch. Then you’ll make your way to the arena, soak up the adoration of the legions of webbed toed fans and sign a few autographs before making your way to your locker room. Once the night progresses you’ll put on your ring gear, do a few warms up, probably listen to some motivational music before making your way to ringside for your big moment. You’ll stand there, your body trembling with anticipation as you await my arrival and your one shot at finally silencing everyone who ever doubted you, who ever said you couldn’t be the man…
Then you’ll lose.
After that you’ll sink back to obscurity, retiring after being struck down with a crippling lack of talent before sinking into the world of bitter shoot videos with some ponytailed virgin on YouTube and eventually popping up on the Wikipedia recent deaths feed and potentially meriting a two page thread on some wrestling forum where nobody remembers who you are.
That is your fate, Will.
It isn’t to become the man who vanquished the giant, it isn’t to join the elite as a NCW World Champion and it sure as hell isn’t to end my title reign prematurely.
Why?
Because this weekend is about so many things for you, it is all one big carnival and you’re the special guest. You’ll indulge yourself in all the trappings of a big title match that you simply do not get to enjoy all that often and you’ll become distracted by the fear that all of this can be snatched away in an instance if you fail. You’re going to become absorbed in enjoying the moment because for you this comes but once a year and the idea that this is your shot at redemption.
For me this is just another day at the office.
I’m going to become the longest reigning NCW World Champion in company history and cement my legacy as one of the very best professionals to ever grace this ring. I’ve set my sights on this achievement since day one and I’m within mere months of not only achieving that dream, but crowning it at the biggest night in the year at A Night to Remember.
Whilst you enjoy the spotlight and all of the caveats it provides, I'm going to stay in the shadows, focused solely on getting the job done yet again and stamping out your dreams to further mine. I don't need to stroke my own ego to try and convince myself that the words I speak are the truth. At Crossroads, I'm going to beat you.
Not because I say I am the best.
But because I prove it, every single week.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A small desk fan whirs around erractically, clattering against the grill as it spits out a soothing breeze, dissipating the stagnant air. Roberto Verona and Jake Conway are both sat in large leather chairs either side of a large wooden desk, a piece of paper clutched in Verona’s hand as Jake simply looks around the room, allowing his mind to wander away. Roberto raises an eyebrow as his eyes dart across the content of the list before he looks up at Jake quizzically.
Does Kathy really need all of this stuff?
You were the one who said I could ask for anything.
Touché.
Besides, you’re hardly short of cash, you may as well get some pleasure from spending it.
Roberto suddenly lowers the list, leaving it on the desk as he looks across at Jake.
How exactly do I benefit from your wife receiving a new pair of shoes and $600 dollars to go shopping with her friends?
The unique pleasure of knowing you made a beautiful woman feel special for a day.
Verona laughs, shaking his head before sitting back in his chair.
you’ve got this silver tongued thing down haven’t you?
What can I say, I just have the right inspiration.
Keep this up and I’ll start to get the impression you’re just a big softie at heart, Jake.
I can be violent when the situation requires it whilst still being totally devoted to my wife.
Don’t I know it…
An awkward silence descends on the pair as Roberto reaches over to a pile of documents to his left before looking back at Jake who sits motionless.
Is there anything else?
I was wondering what the end game is in all this scheming of yours?
That’s a little abrupt don’t you think?
I like to know which path I’m treading down.
One lined with dollar bills, Mr Conway. My end game isn’t your concern, just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll no doubt be able to evolve to survive any environment I manage to concoct.
Now whose got the silver tongue?
Brown nosing never appealed to me.
Perhaps that is why you succeeded where countless others have failed?
I’ve never been one to follow the crowd, Jake. Change comes at a cost and takes a lot more than kissing ass, regardless of what the idiots in the back think. They’re far too used to manufactured regime changes to appreciate a genuine one.
Well, I appreciate it, just so you know. And my wife.
I have no doubts.
Jake lifts himself up, nodding at Roberto politely before turning to leave the room before Verona stops him.
Oh, Jake.
Yes?
Make sure you’re little….cartel of ladies remain under control.
Don’t worry about them, I’ve got them exactly where I want them.
Why do I not find that hard to believe?
Because when you deal with me, Roberto, you get exactly what you pay for.
Turning once again Jake finally takes his leave, closing the door gently behind him.
Let’s hope my investment pays off….
Just as Roberto turns to concentrate on the documents he placed in front of him his phone begins to ring. Reaching offer he deftly tapes both the answer button and the speaker button.
Hello?
Hello, Roberto. Long time no speak.
The familiar voice of Kelly Fox permeates from the speaker, causing Roberto to once again discard his work.
What can I do for you, Kelly?
We need to discuss a few things before Crossroads, I’m not at my office right now but I’ll be back in a couple of days.
Not a problem.
Bring your associates along, I could have some use for them.
You’re the boss.
Oh, I love it when you say that. I’ll be back by Friday, we’ll arrange a time through Hannah. I’ll see you then.
Roberto leans back in his chair, reminiscing of his statement only moments ago before a wry grin runs across his lips.
For now.
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A small desk fan whirs around erractically, clattering against the grill as it spits out a soothing breeze, dissipating the stagnant air. Roberto Verona and Jake Conway are both sat in large leather chairs either side of a large wooden desk, a piece of paper clutched in Verona’s hand as Jake simply looks around the room, allowing his mind to wander away. Roberto raises an eyebrow as his eyes dart across the content of the list before he looks up at Jake quizzically.
Does Kathy really need all of this stuff?
You were the one who said I could ask for anything.
Touché.
Besides, you’re hardly short of cash, you may as well get some pleasure from spending it.
Roberto suddenly lowers the list, leaving it on the desk as he looks across at Jake.
How exactly do I benefit from your wife receiving a new pair of shoes and $600 dollars to go shopping with her friends?
The unique pleasure of knowing you made a beautiful woman feel special for a day.
Verona laughs, shaking his head before sitting back in his chair.
you’ve got this silver tongued thing down haven’t you?
What can I say, I just have the right inspiration.
Keep this up and I’ll start to get the impression you’re just a big softie at heart, Jake.
I can be violent when the situation requires it whilst still being totally devoted to my wife.
Don’t I know it…
An awkward silence descends on the pair as Roberto reaches over to a pile of documents to his left before looking back at Jake who sits motionless.
Is there anything else?
I was wondering what the end game is in all this scheming of yours?
That’s a little abrupt don’t you think?
I like to know which path I’m treading down.
One lined with dollar bills, Mr Conway. My end game isn’t your concern, just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll no doubt be able to evolve to survive any environment I manage to concoct.
Now whose got the silver tongue?
Brown nosing never appealed to me.
Perhaps that is why you succeeded where countless others have failed?
I’ve never been one to follow the crowd, Jake. Change comes at a cost and takes a lot more than kissing ass, regardless of what the idiots in the back think. They’re far too used to manufactured regime changes to appreciate a genuine one.
Well, I appreciate it, just so you know. And my wife.
I have no doubts.
Jake lifts himself up, nodding at Roberto politely before turning to leave the room before Verona stops him.
Oh, Jake.
Yes?
Make sure you’re little….cartel of ladies remain under control.
Don’t worry about them, I’ve got them exactly where I want them.
Why do I not find that hard to believe?
Because when you deal with me, Roberto, you get exactly what you pay for.
Turning once again Jake finally takes his leave, closing the door gently behind him.
Let’s hope my investment pays off….
Just as Roberto turns to concentrate on the documents he placed in front of him his phone begins to ring. Reaching offer he deftly tapes both the answer button and the speaker button.
Hello?
Hello, Roberto. Long time no speak.
The familiar voice of Kelly Fox permeates from the speaker, causing Roberto to once again discard his work.
What can I do for you, Kelly?
We need to discuss a few things before Crossroads, I’m not at my office right now but I’ll be back in a couple of days.
Not a problem.
Bring your associates along, I could have some use for them.
You’re the boss.
Oh, I love it when you say that. I’ll be back by Friday, we’ll arrange a time through Hannah. I’ll see you then.
Roberto leans back in his chair, reminiscing of his statement only moments ago before a wry grin runs across his lips.
For now.
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