Post by FPV on Aug 26, 2023 21:45:05 GMT -5
FPV RP #2 - P.A.I.N.K.I.L.L.E.R.
Weird Season was officially on for The Pride.
With all the goings-on in her life (some of which she had let me be privy to, and some which she still held me at arm's length with), I was pleasantly surprised when Joule Ortiz managed to show up at the local gym back in New Orleans to train with me ahead of our match on Monday. Though we unsuccessful in the Tag Team Turmoil match in MSG, falling victim to the Cinderella story that was Sports Entertainment Express, we wouldn't have to wait long to get our second shot at glory with our debut match on Monday Night Brawl being a good ole' number one contenders match for the tag team titles.
It definitely wouldn't be easy, however. Standing in our way, looming over us like a wall to be scaled were our peers in the guardians Protection Service. Though Joule didn't know them all that well, I was quite familiar with Alex Richards and Jay Omega from promotions gone by. They were a tough team to beat, but the task wasn't impossible. If Joule and I can be on the same wavelength enough, I was certain our nascent partnership would yield great success.
Like I said, though. Weird Season was beginning, and it was beginning in this gym as I did my reps. Today was my leg day, and while everyone hates it, I've grown to especially loathe it. You can blame one Jill Park for that one, having completely snapped my ankle in 2021 and me only just recently being able to come back from the worst of it. It was an injury so debilitating it forced me to reshape my entire wrestling style around it. And though my vendetta against Park had faded along with my involvement in Action Wrestling, it was impossible to ignore the pain in my right ankle.
Joule had already finished her reps and was just waiting on me as I finished the last of mine, passing the time with her partner Robin and their robot dog. Something called an "Aibo," Joule told me. A cute thing, but I was too much of a biological dog person to get too attached to it. While they were on the benches together, I was doing (or at least attempting to do) calf raises, when at once I could feel my bad leg give out from under me, and forcing me to sit back down at the weight bench I was standing over.
FPV: Ah shit! Jesus!
Joule must've heard my outburst, as I could hear her leave her partners before I saw her coming over to check on me. She looked concerned, probably more concerned then she should be, but concerned nontheless.
FPV: I'm good, yeah yeah yeah I'm good. Just a bad moment with the bad ankle is all.
Joule: I dunno, man. Calf raises are a really simple exercise, if it hurts to di just those you may wanna get that ankle checked out again.
I sighed. Deep down I knew she was right, that I should go get it reevaluated after so much time had passed, Truth be told though, I just didn't know what more could be done for it. Compared to a year ago I was in great shape, perhaps the best shape of my life. Yet the ankle still affected me enough to where I couldn't fully utilize my offensive moves that had carried me to so many title victories in the past. I had only tried the Boom! Headshot superkick once since I came back from injury, and it was a dire mistake that cost me the biggest match I had had so far this year. In hindsight perhaps trying that superkick had fully re-aggravated the injury, but with the time constraints before our match on Monday, it just wasn't gonna be feasible. I've operated under worse conditions before, I could still make this work.
My phone vibrated with a sudden text message. It was time for things to get weird.
I stopped mid-sentence to see what the notification was, and oddly enough, the text was shown to be from...Jay Omega?! And he was somehow in my phone as a contact?! I hadn't interacted with him personally enough to get his phone number, it was a wonder how he got mine. But the contents of the message were even weirder.
Jay Omega: Happy trails, partner. Listen, Alex and I are gonna wipe the floor with you on Monday, I've got money on it in 12 different sectors of the galaxy. But I couldn't help but overhear you're partner mention your bum ankle. Sucks to suck. And no, don't ask how I can hear that conversation. I have the tech to make anything happen, baby.
FPV: What in the bluest HELL is this?
Jay Omega: Anyways, after our match on Monday, why don't you get with me. I've got access to this wonderful machine Nikola Tesla built me called the P.A.I.N.K.I.L.L.E.R. It stands for something, I just can't remember for the life of me what. Come on over and I'll let you use it, it'll fix your boom leg good as new. I'll even throw in an autograph from Ole' Nicky if you want it. Mull it over a bit while we kick your skulls in.
The message left me stunned, perplexed and not unlike Alex Richards himself, incredibly confused. Not to Joule though, who had read the message from over my shoulder as I read it silently to myself.
I shook my head and got myself out of my confused stupor long enough to respond.
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The drive from New Orleans to Tampa was a pleasant one, one I had made a few times before to one of Ramon's old vacation homes for some RNR. I was letting him take the wheel on this drive, as I had some words I wanted to get out to the WGWF fans ahead of Brawl. With both of us wearing sunglasses to protect our eyes from the Alabama sun we were currently fighting, Ramon saw me whip my phone out to record a livestream and graciously turned the radio off to allow my thoughts to be heard in full.
FPV: What's up World's Greatest Wrestling Fans. Frank Patrick Venable here on the long drive to Tampa, Florida. And lemme tell you guys, I'm about as excited as a guy can be after losing a big pay-per-view match.
Before I forget, I wanna start by giving a shout out to ole S.E.X. I can't be mad about losing to you guys after the performance you put in that night, so bravo. I'll give you your flowers for now. But trust me, The Pride will be coming after those tag belts sooner than you think. Because you better believe this Monday, with a number one contendership on the line, that this Gold Gremlin is gonna do eeeeeeeeeeeeverything he can to rip those belts from your strapping, abdominally dominant midsections of yours.
Won't be easy though. I've got some old friends Joule and I are gonna have to get through first to get to you. Ole' Jay Omega and Alex Richards. I can already tell from listing those names off that this is gonna be fun for everyone involved.
I mean, why wouldn't it be. Jay Omega is, compared to us mere mortals at least, the most intrepid professional wrestler to ever live. His life is a scattershot graph of adventure plotted in absolutely no particular order. Every company he walks in, he injects with the fervor of a space cowboy. He is truly one of a kind. But that's also his downfall in every federation he walks in. Take it from someone who has seen him in WCF and UCI, he's always just halfway there when he wrestles. His mind is kept to the stars, and that lack of focus can kill him. He is wrestling's one true Peter Pan. A boy in man's clothing who refuses to grow up.
You haven't known true hardship in a long, long time Omegaman. And no, I'm not counting fighting in the cosmos for a planet's freedom as hardship. Hardship is losing your brother to an attack from another wrestler that he had nothing to do with. Hardship is fighting through a weeklong round robin tournament just for the right to be crowned King of the Deathmatch. Hardship is losing a year and a half of your career to injury. That last one KILLS me Jay, has been ever since the injury happened. Do you understand how long a year and a half feels to mere mortals like me, Jay? You wouldn't, because time doesn't mean shit to you. You're like Billy Pilgrim, unstuck in time to your own detriment.
And what of you, Alex? You're also fun personified, aren't you? Pills and booze and a good time for all, right? Yet we both know that deep down inside you're a goddamn ruthless warrior trying to hide away from himself. When you're on, my GOD are you on. Just look at the April 20th, 2020 episode of AW Clash. That's a date I'll never forget, and neither should you. The date you took away the thing I sacrificed too much of myself to achieve. Truth be told, I don't know if I'll ever fully be able to forgive you for that.
But at the very least I am MAN enough to admit that about myself. I wear whatever demons I have on my sleeves, not as badges of honor but as a reminder that I can survive anything this universe puts in front of me! That's what kind of man I truly am deep down inside, Alex. The type of man that you will NEVER be, so long as you remain terrified of your inner truth. Just think! You're already a multi-company Hall of Famer, your peers respect you enough to give you an honor even I have never been able to achieve. But you could be so much more. You could inspire FEAR in your peer's hearts if you just accepted your own inner nature and rule ALL OF WRESTLING WITH AN IRON GRIP.
Just imagine! Alex Richards, Absolute Ruler of All He Perceives, King of Mass Hysteria and Dictator of Reality Itself. But you'll never be that, despite the potential. Because you're true nature scares you, it TERRIFIES you, and because of that you put limits on yourself. Limits I do NOT have whatsoever. If I can use my demons to fuel my victory, you're GODDAMN RIGHT I'LL TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT. I'm not in the business of holding myself back, Alex Richards. I'm in the GOLD HUNTING BUSINESS. And like the hunter I am I'll take your fucking head off and mount it on my wall with all my past titles if that's what it's gonna take to win these belts from Terry Marshall and Space Lord.
Like I said, this match is going to be fun for Joule and I. We're gonna put on the match of the night for the World's Greatest Wrestling Fans and we're gonna have a blast doing it at your expense. Terry, Space Lord, if you want a preview on what we can do against intergalactic threats, I suggest you tune in and pay very...VERY close attention. For your own sakes.