Post by Ezra Gideon on Mar 18, 2023 12:43:56 GMT -5
Payment
“A team is where a boy can prove his courage on his own. A gang is where a coward goes to
hide.” ― Mickey Mantle
Foreword:
Another Monday Night Brawl and another three on one beat down, or was it 4? Doesn’t matter much to me. It’s certainly nothing new here, just another Monday night. Thankfully, I have friends that have my back, otherwise, that could have ended much worse than it did. The cowards did everything they could to try and make sure that I couldn’t make it to Wrestle Wars 8. There was certainly plenty of effort, I’ll give them credit for that. He suplexed us both off the stage and into equipment containers and tables. Kid has balls that’s for sure, not many would do that just a couple of weeks before the biggest match of their career. They are so desperate to make sure that I couldn’t make this event and teach this kid a lesson in humility that every trick, attack, or whatever was on the table. It almost worked too, but we have good trainers that helped to mitigate the damage backstage after the show went off the air. I had a partially dislocated shoulder that they were able to reset quickly. Bruises across my lower back from catching the edge of an equipment container on the way down. That will heal over time, no real damage there.
It is what it is as they say. Can I expect more of the same going forward? Sure, that’s what rational thought says. He demanded this particular match at Wrestle Wars 8. I’m not going to bash the guy for his lack of wisdom or research. I hope Fred, Joe, and the rest of you are paying attention. Bam you put me in a match that is a no win situation for you. My friend and mentor, Whisper, will be at the arena for this one. She already knows you went from having an advantage with your sneak attacks and numbers to this. I am the OG when it comes to fighting in a cage. I grew up in that scene. So now you’re facing an animal in its natural habitat. All of your advantages and confidence are about to be snuffed out like a candle.
Fade
{Dodge HQ - Auburn Hills, Michigan}
I knew it would be cold, but the events of the previous day were keeping me warm. A new sponsorship deal with a major company. A deal that would pay me in excess of one hundred million dollars over the course of a few years. It was amazing to me that they wanted me this much. As we pulled into the corporate headquarters parking lot. I found the correct parking area for visiting VIPs and parked there. I put the placard up in the window so that no one would mistakenly tow the rental away. Dodge had this fully loaded Laramie waiting on me at the airport and that had made my grin blow up into a full-on shit-eating grin. I was ecstatic about the deal and the way they were treating me. The Kindness and respect I received made sure that I would do my best every day to live up to their expectations. That didn’t mean I would kiss anyone’s ass because this was a fully guaranteed deal, Chris and Kat had made sure of that. Today would be the press conference, a necessary evil. I hated these things and the suit I would have to wear. I looked over at Kat and Chris as we made our way into the building. “Shut up,” they said in unison, causing me to laugh. I had already complained about this a couple of times. Once at breakfast and once on the way over here. They were tired of my complaining and rightly so.
The green room, just off of where the press conference would be held. I never cared much for pressers like this and the grin on the faces of Kat Jones and Chris Page was infectious. They had masterfully negotiated a deal that was an industry first, this deal would make me the first professional wrestler to ever have a sponsorship deal with an automotive company. Even more important was that it was with Dodge, which was my company of choice and had been ever since the buyout by Fiat. I looked over at Kat, “I hate suits,” I started to say but she only laughed. “That’s the third time you’ve mentioned that.” I smirked at her and Chris, “Wanted to make sure you understand the sacrifice I’m making here.” Chris barked a laugh, “With the payday, you’re getting, you can shut the fuck up, Mac.” I flipped him off as the Ladies arrived to escort us out to the press conference stage. I sighed and shook my head, “You only get caught when you’re retaliating,” I said in amusement. The head of marketing, William Prague stuck his head in. “Ready to do this thing?” I nodded and stood up with Chris and Kat following closely behind as we left the room. Those in attendance from local, and national news outlets all stood as we entered the room. A smaller contingent of professional wrestling reporters had front row seating. PWI was the most prominent of them, along with Denzel Porter of course.
Will Prague took center stage and checked the microphone to make sure it was hot. “Thank you all for joining our press conference today. We at Dodge are proud to announce that we have a new spokesperson with our company. He’s a man that is known around the world for his exploits in professional wrestling, having won world titles all over the world. He is the first, and yes this is an industry and world first. The first professional wrestler to sign a major endorsement deal with a motor vehicle company. Please welcome Mac Bane.” He backed away from the podium as I stood up and refastened my middle jacket button and approached the podium. I shook hands with Prague and came to the microphone. “Thank you, Will, this is a huge day for not only myself but for the agency that represents me. I’m joined by the owner of CCPE Chris Page and the CEO of the company as well. Many of you know Kat Jones already and you’ve certainly got an idea of who Chris Page is.” I pause for a moment while the press applauds politely. “Today is a landmark day for myself, I’ve been offered sponsorships in the past but declined them due to the hooks in the contracts that would require certain things from me.” “Like what,” one of the local newsmen asked.
“Like not caring about my schedule and expecting me to be there when they wanted regardless of anything else,” I replied calmly. He jotted that down quickly as the next question came from the front row. “What else are you getting besides money, Mac?” The question caused a bit of good humor in the crowd of analysts and reporters. “Well, as you know, I’ve got a big match coming up against Bam Miller.” I paused there to allow that to sink in. “He’s a product of Michigan, having grown up in Detroit. His match is a cage match, with vehicles and weapons of all kinds. So the folks here at Dodge have generously donated all the vehicles to be present inside of that cage.” I pause again as another round of laughter rolls through the reporters. “Oh, so you do know how Bam feels about Ford products then?” More laughter. “Yeah, he seems to not understand that the biggest majority of HQ’s for the motor vehicle industry, at least American made, are located in Michigan. Chevy and Ford both being in Detroit, while Dodge is here in Auburn Hills.” A murmur runs through the crowd. “Yeah, I’d expect a homegrown Detroit boy to know that as well.” I hold up my hands, “I digress, this is a press conference for Dodge and this deal, not a wrestling promo,” I shoot them a wink and they laugh. No other questions were forthcoming so I excused myself. “Thank you all very kindly for attending,” I said to close it out from my side of things. “You heard the man, thank you, Mac!” Will exclaimed as we left the stage and went back into the green room for lunch catered by Dodge.
“Quite the spread, you’ve got here, Will.” He looked at me, “I hope this is okay, Mac, I know from talking to you, you don’t care anything about fancy, so I hope keeping it simple is okay,” he asked. “Yeah, I’m good with everything here, thank you for going to the trouble of putting this together.” He smiled, “you’re a good man, Mac, it was my pleasure.” I nod, feeling a bit humbled, it had been a long time since anyone had referred to me that way. “Oh, that new Dodge Laramie should be at The Velvet Rabbit by the time you get back to Vegas.” I nodded, “Thanks, Will.” “Let me know where to send the invoice for the repairs on your old ride.” I look over at Chris, while Kat can barely stifle a laugh, “Send the invoice to Bam Miller courtesy of CCPE.” Even Chris smiled about that one, “He’ll lose his mind over that, you know that right?” I laughed in response, “I’m counting on it actually.” The laughter rolled through the room at my quip about my opponent. “Well played, Big Brother,” Kat said quietly to me.
Fade
{In-Studio - Unknown Location - “Taking out the trash.”}
I walk into the studio from a very busy hallway, once I shut the door the silence is deafening. I carry a bull rope in one hand and a fifteen pound sledgehammer in the other. The sound of the cowbell clanking is the only sound that you can hear up until I step up to the microphone.
A lot of people have asked me, how did you and Bam get to this point? What has caused all this strife within CCPE? Jealousy is the easy answer, to be quite blunt about it.
I look at the camera, with no amusement, just a neutral expression.
In the beginning, when Chris first started repping Bam, I was one of his biggest supporters. Much like with Ricky before him, I felt like he had so much potential. I supported him and his way of doing things. Hitting people in the head with a brick is not my style but it was about results.
I wave my arm around to add a little flavor to the statement that I was about to make..
So what caused all this drama?
I bark a laugh as I continue.
Ha! A fucking promotional poster for CCPE vs The World! That’s what caused all this bullshit with Bam. All the bitching, whining, and complaining about not being front and center on a fucking poster.
I spread my arms out to emphasize the nothing argument that was presented by Bam.
Why the fuck would you think you belonged there?
My tone shifts to condescending.
Oh, that’s right, because you came to wherever, when Chris called.
Sneering at the camera, I almost growl.
So, you went from a fighter to a fucking lap dog, good job, boyo.
I begin clapping slowly, unimpressed with his claims.
You weren’t the only one that went to other places, because Chris asked, kid. Me and Joe were two of many who made sacrifices to help where we could. Sometimes we simply couldn’t because of family issues. Some of us have people that love us, I know that must be a foreign concept for you, growing up an orphan and all.
I make the fake crying pose, rubbing the knuckle of my right hand in the corner of my eye.
Yeah, a child of the system growing up on the mean streets of Detroit. I’ve heard that tired old story so many times it makes me want to puke. I don’t care where you grew up, what your situation was or how many times you were arrested.
I cross my arms in front of my chest, glaring at the camera.
You were lucky to grow up without parents. My father being the complete twat waffle that he was, had me in cage fights before I was sixteen years old. They weren’t sanctioned by anyone because it’s illegal as hell. It wasn’t a “you fight until you can’t fight no more situation, and you get to go home.” It was a “when you lose that means your dead and the only place your going is into the gut of a fucking gator.”
I smirk at the camera.
We are not the same.
But that’s all in the past, just like the vast majority of my accomplishments. I like to live in the present. I carry no titles at the moment, I’ve recently had stitches and staples courtesy mostly of you. I know when your promo airs you’ll be crowing about that like a slack jawed rooster. That’s good, you should be proud of accomplishing what very few have ever been able to. Not many in this industry can say they have outmaneuvered me, so a tip of the hat to you on accomplishing what you set out to do.
I smile and salute his efforts by pulling on the front of my hat to emphasize my point.
I’ve said all along that you are a great fighter, Bam. I’ve acknowledged that time and time again. This match is where the rubber hits the road, and it will be a permanent end to the hostilities between us. My experience inside a cage is well known and documented. The cage match has been one of my specialties for a long, long time.
I smirk as I continue.
My scar tissue has scar tissue from shit like this. Now I’ll admit, I’ve never been in a cage with cars and trucks. Oh, and in case you missed the press conference, those will all be Dodge products. I’ve never been a fan of Ford, I know you prefer it because it’s made in your home town but those things are hot fucking garbage. Not to mention they are made by people who no longer give a shit.
I shake my head as I think, He has no idea who or what he’s getting in the ring with.
When I look at you and listen to you, I see and hear myself twenty years ago. Just like you, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. You won’t agree with me and that’s okay, I just call it like I see it. You picked the biggest and baddest dog to start some shit with, aligning yourself with Freddy. Life is all about the choices you make, and the consequences that come after. I have this toxic trait of putting young wannabe stars in their place. In your case, you are not even a star yet. You are an up-and-coming fighter with shit loads of potential. The problem for you though is that no one is going to take you seriously. You’ve been in the ring for 2 maybe 3 years?
I nod and smile as I think, it’s cliche but I’m going to say it anyway.
You’ve been in this industry for a cup of coffee and you base your demand for respect on what? Being represented by CCPE? Your association with Fred, Joe, Mark and Peter? It doesn’t work that way, kid. You have to go out and earn that shit every night, it only takes one fuck up to wash everything else you’ve gained away. Don’t believe me? Ask Joe.
I raise my hands up to my head, giving the mind blown motion.
You’ll get your chance to earn my respect at Wrestle Wars 8. We’ll be face to face, you’ll have all the toys that you need to help you beat me.
I drop the bull rope and sledge hammer, and the camera follows them to the floor.
See these? These used to be the tools of the trade for me. I quit using weapons a while back because I simply don’t need them. I realized that with my strength and aggression, I might one day kill someone in the ring. You’ve hit me with everything you’ve got and I still keep getting back up. Staples and stitches? So fucking what. Yeah, I’m hurt and I don’t care. I’ll be cleared by showtime.
I take my hat off revealing the new stitches on my forehead, covered by a bandaid. Grabbing the edge I rip it off.
Let’s just go ahead and rip the bandaid off, shall we? What it boils down to is this, you and I are not that much different. We both look for the most challenging fights, our preference is to start them and finish them. When we step into that ring, we’re not looking to win a wrestling match, we’re looking to finish a fight. Every move, strike, or kick is intended to end the conflict. We don’t get paid by the hour, we get paid for winning fights. I am as reckless and ruthless as they come, I don’t care about your welfare let alone my own. I will use any measure necessary in order to end this. To end you.
I run my thumb across my throat.
You’re hungry for attention and validation, are you hungry enough? Are you desperate enough for notoriety in order to put everything on the line? When you’re gassed and hurt on the verge of passing out from the blood you’ve lost, will you have the fortitude to dig deeper?
I shake my head no.
I don’t think so, amigo.
Prove me wrong.
I fucking dare you.
“A team is where a boy can prove his courage on his own. A gang is where a coward goes to
hide.” ― Mickey Mantle
Foreword:
Another Monday Night Brawl and another three on one beat down, or was it 4? Doesn’t matter much to me. It’s certainly nothing new here, just another Monday night. Thankfully, I have friends that have my back, otherwise, that could have ended much worse than it did. The cowards did everything they could to try and make sure that I couldn’t make it to Wrestle Wars 8. There was certainly plenty of effort, I’ll give them credit for that. He suplexed us both off the stage and into equipment containers and tables. Kid has balls that’s for sure, not many would do that just a couple of weeks before the biggest match of their career. They are so desperate to make sure that I couldn’t make this event and teach this kid a lesson in humility that every trick, attack, or whatever was on the table. It almost worked too, but we have good trainers that helped to mitigate the damage backstage after the show went off the air. I had a partially dislocated shoulder that they were able to reset quickly. Bruises across my lower back from catching the edge of an equipment container on the way down. That will heal over time, no real damage there.
It is what it is as they say. Can I expect more of the same going forward? Sure, that’s what rational thought says. He demanded this particular match at Wrestle Wars 8. I’m not going to bash the guy for his lack of wisdom or research. I hope Fred, Joe, and the rest of you are paying attention. Bam you put me in a match that is a no win situation for you. My friend and mentor, Whisper, will be at the arena for this one. She already knows you went from having an advantage with your sneak attacks and numbers to this. I am the OG when it comes to fighting in a cage. I grew up in that scene. So now you’re facing an animal in its natural habitat. All of your advantages and confidence are about to be snuffed out like a candle.
Fade
{Dodge HQ - Auburn Hills, Michigan}
I knew it would be cold, but the events of the previous day were keeping me warm. A new sponsorship deal with a major company. A deal that would pay me in excess of one hundred million dollars over the course of a few years. It was amazing to me that they wanted me this much. As we pulled into the corporate headquarters parking lot. I found the correct parking area for visiting VIPs and parked there. I put the placard up in the window so that no one would mistakenly tow the rental away. Dodge had this fully loaded Laramie waiting on me at the airport and that had made my grin blow up into a full-on shit-eating grin. I was ecstatic about the deal and the way they were treating me. The Kindness and respect I received made sure that I would do my best every day to live up to their expectations. That didn’t mean I would kiss anyone’s ass because this was a fully guaranteed deal, Chris and Kat had made sure of that. Today would be the press conference, a necessary evil. I hated these things and the suit I would have to wear. I looked over at Kat and Chris as we made our way into the building. “Shut up,” they said in unison, causing me to laugh. I had already complained about this a couple of times. Once at breakfast and once on the way over here. They were tired of my complaining and rightly so.
The green room, just off of where the press conference would be held. I never cared much for pressers like this and the grin on the faces of Kat Jones and Chris Page was infectious. They had masterfully negotiated a deal that was an industry first, this deal would make me the first professional wrestler to ever have a sponsorship deal with an automotive company. Even more important was that it was with Dodge, which was my company of choice and had been ever since the buyout by Fiat. I looked over at Kat, “I hate suits,” I started to say but she only laughed. “That’s the third time you’ve mentioned that.” I smirked at her and Chris, “Wanted to make sure you understand the sacrifice I’m making here.” Chris barked a laugh, “With the payday, you’re getting, you can shut the fuck up, Mac.” I flipped him off as the Ladies arrived to escort us out to the press conference stage. I sighed and shook my head, “You only get caught when you’re retaliating,” I said in amusement. The head of marketing, William Prague stuck his head in. “Ready to do this thing?” I nodded and stood up with Chris and Kat following closely behind as we left the room. Those in attendance from local, and national news outlets all stood as we entered the room. A smaller contingent of professional wrestling reporters had front row seating. PWI was the most prominent of them, along with Denzel Porter of course.
Will Prague took center stage and checked the microphone to make sure it was hot. “Thank you all for joining our press conference today. We at Dodge are proud to announce that we have a new spokesperson with our company. He’s a man that is known around the world for his exploits in professional wrestling, having won world titles all over the world. He is the first, and yes this is an industry and world first. The first professional wrestler to sign a major endorsement deal with a motor vehicle company. Please welcome Mac Bane.” He backed away from the podium as I stood up and refastened my middle jacket button and approached the podium. I shook hands with Prague and came to the microphone. “Thank you, Will, this is a huge day for not only myself but for the agency that represents me. I’m joined by the owner of CCPE Chris Page and the CEO of the company as well. Many of you know Kat Jones already and you’ve certainly got an idea of who Chris Page is.” I pause for a moment while the press applauds politely. “Today is a landmark day for myself, I’ve been offered sponsorships in the past but declined them due to the hooks in the contracts that would require certain things from me.” “Like what,” one of the local newsmen asked.
“Like not caring about my schedule and expecting me to be there when they wanted regardless of anything else,” I replied calmly. He jotted that down quickly as the next question came from the front row. “What else are you getting besides money, Mac?” The question caused a bit of good humor in the crowd of analysts and reporters. “Well, as you know, I’ve got a big match coming up against Bam Miller.” I paused there to allow that to sink in. “He’s a product of Michigan, having grown up in Detroit. His match is a cage match, with vehicles and weapons of all kinds. So the folks here at Dodge have generously donated all the vehicles to be present inside of that cage.” I pause again as another round of laughter rolls through the reporters. “Oh, so you do know how Bam feels about Ford products then?” More laughter. “Yeah, he seems to not understand that the biggest majority of HQ’s for the motor vehicle industry, at least American made, are located in Michigan. Chevy and Ford both being in Detroit, while Dodge is here in Auburn Hills.” A murmur runs through the crowd. “Yeah, I’d expect a homegrown Detroit boy to know that as well.” I hold up my hands, “I digress, this is a press conference for Dodge and this deal, not a wrestling promo,” I shoot them a wink and they laugh. No other questions were forthcoming so I excused myself. “Thank you all very kindly for attending,” I said to close it out from my side of things. “You heard the man, thank you, Mac!” Will exclaimed as we left the stage and went back into the green room for lunch catered by Dodge.
“Quite the spread, you’ve got here, Will.” He looked at me, “I hope this is okay, Mac, I know from talking to you, you don’t care anything about fancy, so I hope keeping it simple is okay,” he asked. “Yeah, I’m good with everything here, thank you for going to the trouble of putting this together.” He smiled, “you’re a good man, Mac, it was my pleasure.” I nod, feeling a bit humbled, it had been a long time since anyone had referred to me that way. “Oh, that new Dodge Laramie should be at The Velvet Rabbit by the time you get back to Vegas.” I nodded, “Thanks, Will.” “Let me know where to send the invoice for the repairs on your old ride.” I look over at Chris, while Kat can barely stifle a laugh, “Send the invoice to Bam Miller courtesy of CCPE.” Even Chris smiled about that one, “He’ll lose his mind over that, you know that right?” I laughed in response, “I’m counting on it actually.” The laughter rolled through the room at my quip about my opponent. “Well played, Big Brother,” Kat said quietly to me.
Fade
{In-Studio - Unknown Location - “Taking out the trash.”}
I walk into the studio from a very busy hallway, once I shut the door the silence is deafening. I carry a bull rope in one hand and a fifteen pound sledgehammer in the other. The sound of the cowbell clanking is the only sound that you can hear up until I step up to the microphone.
A lot of people have asked me, how did you and Bam get to this point? What has caused all this strife within CCPE? Jealousy is the easy answer, to be quite blunt about it.
I look at the camera, with no amusement, just a neutral expression.
In the beginning, when Chris first started repping Bam, I was one of his biggest supporters. Much like with Ricky before him, I felt like he had so much potential. I supported him and his way of doing things. Hitting people in the head with a brick is not my style but it was about results.
I wave my arm around to add a little flavor to the statement that I was about to make..
So what caused all this drama?
I bark a laugh as I continue.
Ha! A fucking promotional poster for CCPE vs The World! That’s what caused all this bullshit with Bam. All the bitching, whining, and complaining about not being front and center on a fucking poster.
I spread my arms out to emphasize the nothing argument that was presented by Bam.
Why the fuck would you think you belonged there?
My tone shifts to condescending.
Oh, that’s right, because you came to wherever, when Chris called.
Sneering at the camera, I almost growl.
So, you went from a fighter to a fucking lap dog, good job, boyo.
I begin clapping slowly, unimpressed with his claims.
You weren’t the only one that went to other places, because Chris asked, kid. Me and Joe were two of many who made sacrifices to help where we could. Sometimes we simply couldn’t because of family issues. Some of us have people that love us, I know that must be a foreign concept for you, growing up an orphan and all.
I make the fake crying pose, rubbing the knuckle of my right hand in the corner of my eye.
Yeah, a child of the system growing up on the mean streets of Detroit. I’ve heard that tired old story so many times it makes me want to puke. I don’t care where you grew up, what your situation was or how many times you were arrested.
I cross my arms in front of my chest, glaring at the camera.
You were lucky to grow up without parents. My father being the complete twat waffle that he was, had me in cage fights before I was sixteen years old. They weren’t sanctioned by anyone because it’s illegal as hell. It wasn’t a “you fight until you can’t fight no more situation, and you get to go home.” It was a “when you lose that means your dead and the only place your going is into the gut of a fucking gator.”
I smirk at the camera.
We are not the same.
But that’s all in the past, just like the vast majority of my accomplishments. I like to live in the present. I carry no titles at the moment, I’ve recently had stitches and staples courtesy mostly of you. I know when your promo airs you’ll be crowing about that like a slack jawed rooster. That’s good, you should be proud of accomplishing what very few have ever been able to. Not many in this industry can say they have outmaneuvered me, so a tip of the hat to you on accomplishing what you set out to do.
I smile and salute his efforts by pulling on the front of my hat to emphasize my point.
I’ve said all along that you are a great fighter, Bam. I’ve acknowledged that time and time again. This match is where the rubber hits the road, and it will be a permanent end to the hostilities between us. My experience inside a cage is well known and documented. The cage match has been one of my specialties for a long, long time.
I smirk as I continue.
My scar tissue has scar tissue from shit like this. Now I’ll admit, I’ve never been in a cage with cars and trucks. Oh, and in case you missed the press conference, those will all be Dodge products. I’ve never been a fan of Ford, I know you prefer it because it’s made in your home town but those things are hot fucking garbage. Not to mention they are made by people who no longer give a shit.
I shake my head as I think, He has no idea who or what he’s getting in the ring with.
When I look at you and listen to you, I see and hear myself twenty years ago. Just like you, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. You won’t agree with me and that’s okay, I just call it like I see it. You picked the biggest and baddest dog to start some shit with, aligning yourself with Freddy. Life is all about the choices you make, and the consequences that come after. I have this toxic trait of putting young wannabe stars in their place. In your case, you are not even a star yet. You are an up-and-coming fighter with shit loads of potential. The problem for you though is that no one is going to take you seriously. You’ve been in the ring for 2 maybe 3 years?
I nod and smile as I think, it’s cliche but I’m going to say it anyway.
You’ve been in this industry for a cup of coffee and you base your demand for respect on what? Being represented by CCPE? Your association with Fred, Joe, Mark and Peter? It doesn’t work that way, kid. You have to go out and earn that shit every night, it only takes one fuck up to wash everything else you’ve gained away. Don’t believe me? Ask Joe.
I raise my hands up to my head, giving the mind blown motion.
You’ll get your chance to earn my respect at Wrestle Wars 8. We’ll be face to face, you’ll have all the toys that you need to help you beat me.
I drop the bull rope and sledge hammer, and the camera follows them to the floor.
See these? These used to be the tools of the trade for me. I quit using weapons a while back because I simply don’t need them. I realized that with my strength and aggression, I might one day kill someone in the ring. You’ve hit me with everything you’ve got and I still keep getting back up. Staples and stitches? So fucking what. Yeah, I’m hurt and I don’t care. I’ll be cleared by showtime.
I take my hat off revealing the new stitches on my forehead, covered by a bandaid. Grabbing the edge I rip it off.
Let’s just go ahead and rip the bandaid off, shall we? What it boils down to is this, you and I are not that much different. We both look for the most challenging fights, our preference is to start them and finish them. When we step into that ring, we’re not looking to win a wrestling match, we’re looking to finish a fight. Every move, strike, or kick is intended to end the conflict. We don’t get paid by the hour, we get paid for winning fights. I am as reckless and ruthless as they come, I don’t care about your welfare let alone my own. I will use any measure necessary in order to end this. To end you.
I run my thumb across my throat.
You’re hungry for attention and validation, are you hungry enough? Are you desperate enough for notoriety in order to put everything on the line? When you’re gassed and hurt on the verge of passing out from the blood you’ve lost, will you have the fortitude to dig deeper?
I shake my head no.
I don’t think so, amigo.
Prove me wrong.
I fucking dare you.