Post by Virgil Keenan on Apr 25, 2013 19:31:41 GMT -5
'Great ambition is the passion of a great character. '- Napoleon Bonaparte
I've written letters, I've painted pictures, walked through the streets of man, sat in malls, and preached to the masses; I'm not going to do that today. As neat, clever and innovative as it might be It's not what I'm about. I'm not a Gimmick, I don't play upon gimmicks, I'm an individual, a person, a wrestler. Today I've present to you my sunday best, iron clean, slick, professional. Black and red color scheme, a mask glimmering a vermillion red and coal black. The suit follows trend, a red tie and shadow black material. My hands interlock and I stare into the lens. Vicious eyes and blood thirsty intent pierce the mechanical parts, soaring though media and onto your screen
Hello, I'm Virgil Keenan and I'm the number one contender. I have a match, a PPV main event, I have a singular solitary moment I have to prepare for, that I need to be ready for. Before the camera shines ready I take an introspective look, resting my eyes on a blink. His face flashes before my eyes, almost as if it was yesterday. I don't need to indulge who, it's none of your business, but let's say he's why I'm here, he's the reason I sit here, adrenaline making it's way through my veins. I glance upward.
The light above blasts onto and illuminates my figure, my mask, my outfit, and finally my face as I bring it back down, eyes shooting open.
There it is, glimmering, shimmering...
There are Stars In my eyes.
"Is that reeeaallly what you want to base your superiority on? I stood there spitting factual statements about your dull fighting abilities, the fact you've never been pushed, that you have never inspired greatness out of your opponents, your legacy, your streak, the sputtered statistics, your brain dead contrived sense of moral high ground, that personality of yours, and all your other flailing traits....."
-Deep breath-
"And you want to call me out for one technical loss against Hulu?"
-I shake my head in irritation.-
"You should do you fucking research asshole, because Hulu tapped out to me like a little bitch. I kicked out of his flashy move like it never even hit, I had a rope break well intact, there was nothing about that match that uttered any degree of embarrassment, no point to be made, no critique to be found. Hulu never proved he was better than me, not even slightly. Hell, he wouldn't have even been TV champion if not for my meddling hands. Atop of that the irrelevancy of your argument stuns me. Perhaps you can tell me what it has to do with anything between us, me beating you, and the 30 minutes we go head to head?"
"But whatever right? That's not relevant to Gunner Hughes is it? A man who took debating lessons from a 5 year old, making half of it up as he goes, doesn't have to listen to trivial things like facts and research. Na, he's too busy looking at diagrams of balls. I don't know what educational diploma you declare to have, but you can shove it straight up your ass son, because you're about to be lyrically decimated, cremated, and repackaged as a black studded dildo."
"In other words, you're fucked."
-I stretch, molding the words in my mouth, a vicious stern brow tops a strict glare. Shit just hit the fan.-
"Before you utter anymore words about getting into my head, me running away, or some flaccidly potent type of argument, let me stop you. My mood right now is the direct response to your inexcusable ignorance, your lazy research, your complete admission of facts, and your complete ineptitude at constructing a probable reason for success. You dimwitted, dudebro, damaged piece of shit."
"You, the world champion, have nothing better to target me on, address me over, and call me out on then a rise in tempo? In case you missed it, that bloody kick missed it's mark by about half a mile, and instead of capitalizing and ripping your quad from the bone like I'd do any other day, I spared you long enough to get you here. I can't win a title, I can't prove a point, I can't give you an excuse after it's all said and done by breaking you two weeks before the match now can I? Then again, I can't fathom a man like yourself knows anything about strategic warfare. Must have dropped that class eh? That's not you getting into my head, that's you being spared complete embarrassment. That's not me running away, it's me selling the match, a PPV match, it's me allowing you a false bravado, psychology 2102 professor Hughes, read up."
-I flick a smug look, just for you Gunner. Enjoy it.-
"Through the entirety of that antagonizing patronizing verbose rant you painted a picture of a man you see. Not factual, not enlightening, not intellectually awe inspiring, or slightly correct, but a picture none the less. It's clear what you see is a man who bases his success, his progress, his placement along the borders of NAW with his god damn mouth. You want me to just shut up and wrestle? Well tell me Gunner, how did I get here? I didn't talk my way to the top, I didn't beat all the individuals I beat with my mouth, I didn't go to the ring, spit fast, viciously, and with such violent intentions that it personified into some doppelganger. No, because that's retarded. I went out and physically took advantage of every opening and I wrestled. I took it to the outside, I took it to the mat, I wrapped men in holds and dropped others on their necks. I did that with my Brain, my Arms, my Legs, my Heart, and my Balls, asshole. You don't get world title shots without warranting them, it doesn't happen. I gave this federation my heart and soul throughout every match, every encounter, no matter if I won or if I lost and in the end I walked out better for it. I didn't even cheat like Steven, or as you told us all you're oh so willing to do, I didn't take the short way to where I am, I earned it."
-I pound my chest.-
"I was given this shot out of my resounding, unwavering, unfettered heart. So go ahead and undermine what you think I have in here, go ahead and bring into question my abilities. It's only going to fuck you in the end. When you're baffled and confused, when half an hour is up and your bleeding, battered, and beaten you'll wonder how one man can be so good. When you look to the statistics you hold so dear, as if they mean a god damn thing, and see that '1' in the loss column, you'll wonder why you never took me as serious as you should have."
"I'll win and I won't do it with sloppy attempts at sluggish moves. I'll wrestle you. You think that this is going to be a bare knuckle brawl or something? No, not at all, this is an Ironman, this is a test of fortitude and skill. You don't go down to that ring with the mentality of anything goes. You face me with the skills of this sport and you'll wrestle me. This isn't some backyard promotion with weedwackers and cheese graters, this is a passion, a sport, a skill, a craft. You don't seem to understand that. And this is a craft I've spent my life perfecting, a craft you shrug off. What this is, from top to bottom, is a wrestling match. And you're not going to win it with a Big Boot, and a basic Camel clutch!"
"Ring ring motherfucker, the 80's called, they want their move list back."
-I stand up, the camera backs out, I give a quizzical look at the camera.-
"What? Starting to sweat? Things getting hot? Don't worry about it, that's just the fire I set under your ass. Don't fret, you aren't alone, you wanna talk about Hulu? lets return to our two matches. Cthuluson is terrible, he's flaky, he let this organization down, but guess what? He brought it against me. He ran hard and gave it his best effort, through cheating, lying, stealing, he pushed his limits. I did that to him. I imposed upon him a challenge, I spat fire and I stirred in him potential. Go back, watch it, he actually CARED back then."
"When you faced him, you couldn't get him to muster enough energy to get off his couch and do his job. You couldn't inspire, you couldn't bring in him a fire that I could. I did it to Leon Corella, he gave his best trying to topple me, and he failed. Pat Gordon couldn't do that, our sad little tag division couldn't do that. I gave Drake Knight the best match of his career, I made him rise above his mundane body guard persona to the point he looked like a credible competitor. UWL didn't do that, title aspirations didn't do that... You didn't do that either did you? "
"I did that."
"I did that because I am a Champion amongst men, I inspire greatness! I push, shove, and refuse the mediocrity of those around me, what's the best thing you've done? Sit there? Twiddle your thumbs playing Call Of Duty and sniffing coke off some whores tits? Wow, congrats, you got it, winner, champion! Suck my fucking dick you egomaniacally narrow vision pathetic thug. What? You don't think that's part of your job? Of course it is, you're the champion. You're supposed to be the embodiment of what NAW has to offer. And this endless line of victories over insignificant or apathetic opponents? You think it makes you good don't you? You brag about it enough, you flaunt it around enough, you must. Yet you think the fact I pushed the limits and skill set of each of my opponents is a negative thing? You sir, are a moron. You wanna talk about what it takes to be a champion? Well I certainly don't think sitting there on your laurels is what a champion does. What do you think?"
"Y'know what? Fuck it, after all you project such a monotone and boring personality, such an unthreatening arsenal that people basically fell asleep at the proposal of facing you. Or did you forget that more than half of your opponents didn't even care enough about their match with you too hype it. A basic fundamental requirement of our occupation, stand there, talk, hype, talk trash, something! But no, you're such an insignificant little cunt that no one cared to even do it."
-I pause, smiling with a chuckle, almost mad as I do.-
"I'll do it though, I'll talk to you, I'll garner your ire, I'll push your buttons, I'll antagonize you because somebody has to right? Somebody has to do something here, somebody has to step up amongst the crowd and say "No, this isn't okay, this isn't how it should be." Such a sad excuse of a wrestler shouldn't be where he is. I care about every match, every encounter, big or small, I give people a reason to rejoice. The people can look to me and know without a shadow of a doubt that I will bring Sizzle, interest, entertainment, and the best wrestling this side of United States! What do you offer them Gunner? That you'll show up? I came here and removed 4 insignificant wrestlers and cleaned up this roster, I stood a role model, and most importantly, I made you open your eyes and take notice. Take a gander back at your battle with Fraggle, nothing more than a vanity project, some series of encounters built up around some last minute fumblings. No one cared about it did they Hughes?"
"Everyone was talking about Virgil Keenan. Gunner Hughes beats Lance frost, everyone talks about the new American Champion. The world champion is on the card, everyone talks about how Virgil Keenan and Leon Corella are taking over the damn show. It's all about me Gunner, and the sooner you realize that, the better. I give these people, these fans, MY fans, something to rejoice about because I actually give them something. I give them a figure to look up to, a reason to tune in, I'm the soaring flames that NAW runs upon. Without me this place is nothing. Without me this PPV fails. Without me you go unchallenged."
"I'm a revolutionary! A hero! A true champion!"
"But you wanna know why don't you? Why do I want be Champion? Well, that's personal, that requires a lot of back tracking and soul searching, it involves how I was bred, and the work I put into everything I do, only to see some fucking thug walk around taking for granted what I require. It involves unfulfilled dreams of my father, it resolves around my mask, Gunner, it's comes down to who I am. My identity is found in this ring. I'm a wrestler. Not a fighter. I don't have a successful bar I hang out in my free time, I got a half broken bowflex in my living room. I don't have friends and family to indulge in, I have protein shakes and blood stained wrappers in my garbage. I want to be world champion because since I was 14 my father was body slamming me in the basement."
-I raise my arms into the air.-
"It's destiny!"
"I'm not looking for your respect, your admiration, sympathy, pity, or your understanding, I'm looking for your belt. To showcase, to elaborate, to deliver, to stand and bellow with a guttural scream of victory."
- A long pause.-
"So this is it, this is the final stretch before Spring Breakdown. I'm standing here on the opposite side of a screen, but I'm not hiding. I wear this mask, but I refuse to hide my identity. Hughes you've got me pegged all wrong, I've never been afraid of a fight, I've never been so scared I ran from confrontation. I don't hide behind computer monitors or webcams. I Challenged the UWL world champion, and I didn't do that because I'm intimidated by him. I challenged you remember? I didn't do that because I'm a wimp with no balls. No, I do all these things because I live to a standard far above your head. I've looked you in the eye and spat just as viciously as any other night any other time, in that ring, and I struck you."
"There is no fear in these eyes Gunner."
"No Doubt to be found."
"No intimidation."
"No cowardice."
"Just stars. See you in the ring."
Palm the camera.