Post by Pure Innovation on Aug 23, 2008 21:11:40 GMT -6
"They're at it again, Jack. You'd think they'd actually take what we said for what it was, but I guess they WANT me to kick their faces off. I mean, you'd get a more intelligent response from a brick wall then you ever would trying to talk to those two."
In we come to see both Flint and Fields sitting in a pair of steel folding chairs. You know, the typical ones that you would sort of have people sit in if they were taking a quick breather, or that are oh so often used by wrestling organizations to accommodate their fans. These ones happen to be of the nice and blue variety, for a reason that nobody really knows, and they both happen to be in what appears to be the side room of a gym. A television/VCR combo sits in front of them, but we can't really see what's playing on it, or rather, what was playing on it before one Jack Flint paused the tape.
Blake sighs and crosses his arms, both disappointed by the fact that they wound up with a cheap VHS copy of Fallen Perfection's so called "material", and irritated by the fact that most people wouldn't consider it to be material by any means. Rather, most people would simply look at it as a worried rambling by a pair of people who knew full well that they were going to get the crap beaten out of them. Flint simply lets out a sort of sly smirk at the fact that he'd seen people try to act like they knew more than they possibly could more times than even he could remember.
Jack: Wrong about us, huh? Well, I kind of feeling like saying "no s---" you were wrong about us. I mean really, when they go on some tangent about how us, the ones that the management knows will go on to amazing things here, are "curtain jerkers" and are going to be THEIR stepping stones, I've kind of got to wonder what exactly they've been smoking. That's right, "hey kids, don't do drugs or you'll end up like Dylan Phoenix!", it'd be the perfect endorsement.
He chuckles a little bit at just how fitting his joke was, and how Fallen Perfection were refusing to accept the obvious truth about their situation. They were being foolishly defiant up until what would be their inevitable end. After all, when it came to the match that Pure Innovation had, and the obvious defeat that both Dylan Phoenix and Chris Mercury were quickly going to face, it was just as a certain author had so eloquently put once.
Everything's Eventual.
Blake leans forward a bit and scratches his chin. It wasn't hard to see what his opponents were trying to do. They figured that if they kept saying they were going to beat Pure Innovation, and that they were better than jobbers, better than curtain jerkers, that it would make it true. The sheer thought of them being in denial to such a large degree simply made him smile.
Fields: It's kind of funny that the first thing you decide to focus on is how much Jack's car is over what either of you could possibly afford. You don't focus on the match at hand, you don't focus on thinking of a sort of strategy, and you don't focus on how you're going to pick yourselves up from the ass kicking that we give you. The funniest thing of all though, is that you're going to be wondering just why the hell you got your asses kicked. You're going to be wondering "Why did we lose? Why did we fail so horribly?", when the answer to that is so clearly in front of you that Mr. McGoo could see it.
A slow nod from Flint once again. It was actually kind of saddening that despite all the harsh lessons that the younger wrestlers were being forced to learn, that less and less of them were actually letting those lessons sink in. More and more of them thought that they knew everything there was to know about the business, when the sad truth was that they couldn't possibly be more wrong if they tried.
Jack: You see Dylan, you decide to go and ramble on and on about how "oh, that's not original" or "I've heard that before", or joke about how "well, at least we got to Taco Bell", but you never stop to think. There's a reason you're always hearing that you're just the far inferior one of the Phoenix Brothers. It's not without reason that everybody keeps telling you that you'll never be anything close to what AJ is. I mean, when was the last time that you won a championship? When was the last time you were even in CONTENTION for a title? I'm not "using the mini-AJ thing" as you put it, to get under your skin. No, I'm simply saying it because it's the truth. Whether or not you want to admit it won't change the fact that it's how things are. It's just like how you choose to try and make light of your situation by cracking jokes about how Angel might sue me for gimmick infringement despite the obvious fact that there's absolutely no reasoning for him to do so. I've gotta say kid, I've never met you face to face, and already I'm wanting to stomp your face into the canvas more than anyone who isn't named "Dan Keeling".
His tag partner sort of takes a moment to do a double take before he proceeds to shake his head and laugh. The way neither Dylan, nor Mercury seemed to be capable of taking the match seriously, was making it near impossible to take either of THEM seriously. Of course, when someone's being completely ridiculous, it's often pretty hard not to laugh at them.
Fields: You say that everybody's just taking you lightly because they don't know what you're capable of, because they haven't seen what you can do. To that I say, "okay, show us what you can do, make us sweat a little bit". That's right, give us something to be worried about, Dylan. If you're so capable of doing well, if you've got so much that you can prove, then come on and prove it to us. I'm laying that challenge out to you, because I know full well that you're not going to be able to do it, that you're going to come up short and on the losing end of things. You can run from yourselves, you can try and hide from the truth, but you can't get away from this beating, and you know that for sure. Hope you two rest well, because when it's Four Past Midnight....your fantasy's gonna come crashing down.
Now, we find ourselves fading to black.
In we come to see both Flint and Fields sitting in a pair of steel folding chairs. You know, the typical ones that you would sort of have people sit in if they were taking a quick breather, or that are oh so often used by wrestling organizations to accommodate their fans. These ones happen to be of the nice and blue variety, for a reason that nobody really knows, and they both happen to be in what appears to be the side room of a gym. A television/VCR combo sits in front of them, but we can't really see what's playing on it, or rather, what was playing on it before one Jack Flint paused the tape.
Blake sighs and crosses his arms, both disappointed by the fact that they wound up with a cheap VHS copy of Fallen Perfection's so called "material", and irritated by the fact that most people wouldn't consider it to be material by any means. Rather, most people would simply look at it as a worried rambling by a pair of people who knew full well that they were going to get the crap beaten out of them. Flint simply lets out a sort of sly smirk at the fact that he'd seen people try to act like they knew more than they possibly could more times than even he could remember.
Jack: Wrong about us, huh? Well, I kind of feeling like saying "no s---" you were wrong about us. I mean really, when they go on some tangent about how us, the ones that the management knows will go on to amazing things here, are "curtain jerkers" and are going to be THEIR stepping stones, I've kind of got to wonder what exactly they've been smoking. That's right, "hey kids, don't do drugs or you'll end up like Dylan Phoenix!", it'd be the perfect endorsement.
He chuckles a little bit at just how fitting his joke was, and how Fallen Perfection were refusing to accept the obvious truth about their situation. They were being foolishly defiant up until what would be their inevitable end. After all, when it came to the match that Pure Innovation had, and the obvious defeat that both Dylan Phoenix and Chris Mercury were quickly going to face, it was just as a certain author had so eloquently put once.
Everything's Eventual.
Blake leans forward a bit and scratches his chin. It wasn't hard to see what his opponents were trying to do. They figured that if they kept saying they were going to beat Pure Innovation, and that they were better than jobbers, better than curtain jerkers, that it would make it true. The sheer thought of them being in denial to such a large degree simply made him smile.
Fields: It's kind of funny that the first thing you decide to focus on is how much Jack's car is over what either of you could possibly afford. You don't focus on the match at hand, you don't focus on thinking of a sort of strategy, and you don't focus on how you're going to pick yourselves up from the ass kicking that we give you. The funniest thing of all though, is that you're going to be wondering just why the hell you got your asses kicked. You're going to be wondering "Why did we lose? Why did we fail so horribly?", when the answer to that is so clearly in front of you that Mr. McGoo could see it.
A slow nod from Flint once again. It was actually kind of saddening that despite all the harsh lessons that the younger wrestlers were being forced to learn, that less and less of them were actually letting those lessons sink in. More and more of them thought that they knew everything there was to know about the business, when the sad truth was that they couldn't possibly be more wrong if they tried.
Jack: You see Dylan, you decide to go and ramble on and on about how "oh, that's not original" or "I've heard that before", or joke about how "well, at least we got to Taco Bell", but you never stop to think. There's a reason you're always hearing that you're just the far inferior one of the Phoenix Brothers. It's not without reason that everybody keeps telling you that you'll never be anything close to what AJ is. I mean, when was the last time that you won a championship? When was the last time you were even in CONTENTION for a title? I'm not "using the mini-AJ thing" as you put it, to get under your skin. No, I'm simply saying it because it's the truth. Whether or not you want to admit it won't change the fact that it's how things are. It's just like how you choose to try and make light of your situation by cracking jokes about how Angel might sue me for gimmick infringement despite the obvious fact that there's absolutely no reasoning for him to do so. I've gotta say kid, I've never met you face to face, and already I'm wanting to stomp your face into the canvas more than anyone who isn't named "Dan Keeling".
His tag partner sort of takes a moment to do a double take before he proceeds to shake his head and laugh. The way neither Dylan, nor Mercury seemed to be capable of taking the match seriously, was making it near impossible to take either of THEM seriously. Of course, when someone's being completely ridiculous, it's often pretty hard not to laugh at them.
Fields: You say that everybody's just taking you lightly because they don't know what you're capable of, because they haven't seen what you can do. To that I say, "okay, show us what you can do, make us sweat a little bit". That's right, give us something to be worried about, Dylan. If you're so capable of doing well, if you've got so much that you can prove, then come on and prove it to us. I'm laying that challenge out to you, because I know full well that you're not going to be able to do it, that you're going to come up short and on the losing end of things. You can run from yourselves, you can try and hide from the truth, but you can't get away from this beating, and you know that for sure. Hope you two rest well, because when it's Four Past Midnight....your fantasy's gonna come crashing down.
Now, we find ourselves fading to black.