Post by TheNewBreed on Oct 7, 2023 22:50:09 GMT -5
“I have a good feeling about having you on my team.” ~ Smash
I didn't know Smash as well as some of you did... but in the short time I did know him... he earned my respect.
He treated everyone around him as equals...
He showed great respect to those who worked for him...
He gave chances to those who the world had written off as worthless...
He had a knack for seeing something worthwhile in others that most people miss...
And he had faith in those who might not even have faith in themselves.
Those things only made me respect him more... and I know the world is less without him.
Smash was a great man... and the mark of a truly great man, believe it or not, is that not everyone likes him. It means he was willing to piss off the masses to stand up for what was right and speak his mind, and Smash was nothing if not a great man... at least as far as I'm concerned.
The fact that he was willing to take a shot with me and invite me to join his team for Us vs Them when it seemed like the hobby for the entire industry was to drag my name through mud as if I was a washed up never was... spoke volumes to me about his character... and I'm glad to have known him, even for the short time I have.
I'm glad I lived up to his hopes for me and I could secure the win for my team... and I'm glad I didn't let him down after all the trust he put in me to do my part.
He deserved better... but his memory will live on in all of us.
The new show... WGWF Smash... the marquee Title for the brand - the former Entity Title now named the Smash Title... and everyone who was ever involved with Smash and the times we shared in and around his ring... all of that ensures his legacy will carry on for a long time to come... at least if I have anything to say about it, that is.
Speaking of someone who has something to say, seemingly about everything...
Ms. Myst.
A pleasure to finally meet you after your illustrious beginning here in the WGWF. Welcome to the show.
You've really begun to make a name for yourself around here with your antics... but this week on BRAWL, you aren't climbing into the ring with just anyone, my dear... you're climbing in there with the Beast.
All the snide insults and condescending anecdotes don't mean a damn thing to me. Your taunts and the snarky little words that you use to get inside the heads and under the skin of your other opponents are just that... words... easily ignored and worth far less than the minutes of my time you're going to take up on Monday night while I pick up another singles victory on my path to winning the Cannabis Cup and reclaiming my WGWF World Heavyweight Title for a third time.
Don't get me wrong... this has nothing to do with you being a woman.
I'm sure you're going try to tell the world how I'm going to underestimate you because of your gender, but my estimation of you has nothing to do with that, and you couldn't be further from the truth.
No... my estimation of your ability to take care of business in the ring with me has more to do with experience... mine more specifically. See... in the last few months I've been in the ring with athletes who can throw one single punch with more force than you can physically generate with your entire body mass... and they couldn't knock me out... so what makes you think you can even take me off my feet, let alone pin me?
Ask Mac Bane how hard he can hit... and I bet you any money he shows you right there on the spot. Ask Enigma how much force is at the end of his fist when he means to take you out with every ounce of his being. Ask Clyde Newton how much heart he's got to leave in the middle of the ring each and every night. Ask Bam Miller how much... on second thought... better not ask Bam a lot of math questions, actually. I hear his only answer is 'Brick'... but... you could go ask the newly returning Devlin Knight just what it takes to put a Beast down when you have to... but he might not have an answer you'll like to hear. Hell... for that matter... go ask Chaos what it's like to be in the ring with me. I'm sure he has some splendid insight on the subject.
You see, Jennifer... it isn't that I doubt your heart... or your ability... or your drive to be a great talent in this industry.
I don't.
Trust that I believe one day you will be a great Superstar under the banner of the WGWF.
I do.
But I know what I'm capable of... and I know what's on the horizon for me here.
If roster members who have laid claim to global accolades laden from shoulder to wrist on both arms with titles from far off lands or feature talents from around the world with undeniable legacies and even past and future Hall of Famer's don't give me pause in my path... then what hope do you have of halting the Beast in his hunt for the only prize that matters enough to care about?
I have a destiny, Ms. Myst... and unfortunately for you... you're little more than vapors hanging in the air between me and my goals, and come Monday night... I'm going to huff... and I'm going to puff... and I'm going to blow you right out of my way.
A massive light rack swings through the air in a delicate dance hoisted by a crane platform erecting the ring area for the upcoming WGWF Event over the center of the pitchers mound at Evergreen Field in Orlando, Florida. The sun is bright, and hazy little clouds float by overhead in the early fall afternoon. The blue and white seats of the stands glint in the sunlight as a tuft of clouds drifts by and a crew of men work diligently to put the pieces of the stage and lighting together.
To the left of home plate, high above the field, was a large bay of windows. The Owner's skybox overlooked the field from the best vantage point in the stadium, and today, John Cable was using his private viewing box as a meeting room for the closest of his staff.
Owen sat lazily on a tall bar stool with one single metal tube as a center support that flared out into four wide splayed legs at the base. He leaned back heavily on the side of the white granite bar-top looking like he would rather be anywhere but here right now. Behind him, in the small kitchenette, Darina stood rigidly with her arms crossed across her chest, staring daggers at John greeting newcomers by the doorway. She had had some choice words after the incident in Nevada the other week, and he still hadn't figured out a way to explain exactly what was going on yet. They were both in full armor, despite only one of them seeming like they needed it, and in truth, Darina hadn't taken hers off for longer than it took to shower in weeks.
Sitting calmly on the small white couch centered near the large bay windows was the Citizen, Aaron Gold, CEO and operating officer of the New Breed Foundation... John's brother in law and an extremely capable business man who had proven his acumen for the company many times over. As John greeted one of the many financial advisors and lawyers who were present, Aaron tipped his glass towards one of the men who had just come in, and John looked over the room once before turning to the door and closing it behind them.
“Thank you for being here today, ladies and gentlemen. I do appreciate you taking the time out of your schedules to meet me here to finalize the paperwork for the event and make sure that we've dotted all of our tees and crossed all of our eyes. If we could look at packet B2 for just a moment...” John welcomed them to the meeting and began discussing the minutia of the dealings with WGWF Financial and Legal departments as Owen rolled his eyes and spun around on the stool to face away from the table of suits.
“This is my least favorite part of the job, you know?” Owen whispered to Darina across the bar.
“Yeah... I get that. My least favorite part of the job is when your client turns out to be a time lord with a synth infestation and an assassin droid for a pet.” she scoffs, still boring holes through Cable's mask with her glare.
“Rina... you gotta let it go, girl. Seriously.” Owen snorts derisively at her and rolls his eyes again.
“Which part, Owen... the part where John is a time lord, or the part where armies of robot AIs are coming through dimensional portals to attack him?” Darina fires back, her temper already piqued.
“The part about R2 being an assassin droid. I mean, com...” Owen starts to answer before Darina grabs him by the collar of his armor chest-plate and pulls him across the bar top to eye level with her.
“That is EXACTLY what that thing is... and don't you forget it, or it'll be you he turns into a cloud of red mist the next time he goes on a killing spree and mega-morphs into a megazord, OK?” she seethes between clenched teeth quietly, the look in her eyes telling a tale of just how seriously she takes this fear of the little egg shaped drone from the far distant future.
“OK... chill out, Rina. I get it. Watch the floating egg monster. Geez.” he remarks quietly before getting up from the stool and heading towards the door. “I'm gonna go keep a watch in the hall. Yell if you need me.” he says gruffly before disappearing outside.
* * * * *
“I really don't give a shit if you like it or not, John. You didn't leave me a lot of choices here, you know? It ain't like some green eared security guard is going to take a job like this, and even if they did, they'd just end up dead any damned way. You needed an army here, John, and that's what I got.” Darina chided Cable from across the sky box.
The meeting had gone on forever, and by now, Darina was at her wits end waiting to get this off her chest. He had voiced his displeasure at her selections for the new security detail a few days ago before they had come back to Florida to oversee the preparations at Evergreen Field for the show and when she had tried to explain the issues the new mission parameters posed he had not been as receptive to her advice as she would have liked, to say the least.
“They're mercenaries, Darina.” John says flatly, looking up at her from within his leather face mask.
“Yeah... they are. They're also trusted... so they got one up on the little egg assassin in my mind if I'm honest here.” Darina scoffs in reply.
“R2 hasn't done anything for you not to trust it. I wish you would come off of this idea that...” John starts to say, but Darina cuts him off sharply.
“Oh, no. That isn't true at all, John. There are plenty of reasons for me not to trust the little droid that murders people by turning them to mist and scattered parts and then explains it to the detectives in every detail without remorse. We've been over this before, and whether you want to acknowledge my concerns or not, that doesn't make them less than valid!” She shouts at the masked man across the room.
“Darina, I've heard your concerns... I've really listened to them and honestly considered what you have told me... and I have explained this all before. Yes... R2 did kill a few men. He killed killers... men who were hell bent on killing me and the entire crew at the airport. Because of R2, those men and women are still alive to go home to their families. Without the droid... we all would have been dead.” John says softly, frustrated that Darina is letting this bother her so much.
“John... that thing turned four men into smears on the tarmac. They were unrecognizable as people when it was done for fuck's sake...” she shivers as she recalls the way the blood pools glinted in the lights on the runway that night.
“What did you do to the men who held you captive in Laos?” John asks pointedly, looking right at her from behind the mask.
“That isn't the...” Darina tries to argue, but John holds his hand up to stop her tirade.
“What did you to them, Darina? After Sebastian and Owen found you there in the camp in the jungle... what did you do?” John asks softly again.
“I killed them, John. You know that.” Darina answers flatly, the edge in her voice faltering as she knows where John is going with this already.
“Rina... you didn't just kill them. Sebastian and Owen rescued you, and escaped the camp. That night, when you could have taken your freedom and ran from your captors, you left your rescuers alone in the jungle and went back to take the revenge you felt you were due. You murdered far more than four men that night, and from what I heard... Sebastian and Owen felt the same way about you for a while after that you do about R2.. but you know that, don't you? You know how what they saw in that camp the next morning stuck with them for quite some time... and every now and then... if he's honest... Owen still thinks about it. What you did to those men terrified Owen so bad he still has nightmares about what they found there... what you did there... and yet... you can't understand why R2 did what it did?” John asks, pushing the issue with her further than he usually did, but needing her to understand the situation, and get over her fears for the future of the group.
“They deserved exactly...” she starts to respond.
“And as far as I'm concerned... those men at JIA deserved what they got too. They had every intention of taking the lives of everyone there that night, and R2 saved them... and saved me. Without that little egg shaped assassin, none of us would be here right now, and where would that leave you? Where would that leave Owen? What about the spouses of the crew? Their kids? Would you have let the tragedy of their loss happen if you had had the power to stop it, or would you have done exactly the same thing in R2's position?” John asks, standing up from the table and making his way over to the white granite bar top separating the kitchenette from the rest of the sky box.
“I know you wouldn't have let those men hurt a single one of us, and if you had the power that R2 has, you would have done exactly the same thing it did. The real issue here isn't WHAT R2 did, but how powerful it really is. I understand the fear of a thing like that... I do... but you're going to have to come to terms with the fact that while R2 may be a weapon of destruction, it's done nothing but try it's best to keep us safe, even if that meant making a few other people less than safe in the process.” John says to her as she turns away from him and paces to the far side of the counter against the wall.
“Look... I know you think you got this all figured out, OK, but what happens when shit breaks down and goes completely sideways? What then?” she snaps at him as she spins to stare at him intently over the bar.
“Darina... I can't live my life on what if's and could'a maybes. The only thing I can do is take each moment of my life as it comes, and deal with it as best as I can. I've learned through many a long year of tragedy and loss and plot twists in the best laid plans that there is nothing under my control except for myself. The only thing I can do is make sure I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, and the same thing with you. I understand that you're not used to being afraid. I know... people like us aren't used to wondering if we're safe... and lately... it's all I can think about too. Believe me... I don't like the feeling either... but if there is anything I'm sure of... it's that R2-IDEA is not a threat to us, and is doing it's damnedest to make sure we're safe.” John says with a clenched jaw and firm conviction in the truth of his words.
“You can't afford to be wrong this time, John. We're not dealing with a top hat here... and there isn't a jail cell at the end of this yellow brick road. This time... there is no end game... just survival or death.” Darina whispers to him across the bar as John sighs deeply.
I didn't know Smash as well as some of you did... but in the short time I did know him... he earned my respect.
He treated everyone around him as equals...
He showed great respect to those who worked for him...
He gave chances to those who the world had written off as worthless...
He had a knack for seeing something worthwhile in others that most people miss...
And he had faith in those who might not even have faith in themselves.
Those things only made me respect him more... and I know the world is less without him.
Smash was a great man... and the mark of a truly great man, believe it or not, is that not everyone likes him. It means he was willing to piss off the masses to stand up for what was right and speak his mind, and Smash was nothing if not a great man... at least as far as I'm concerned.
The fact that he was willing to take a shot with me and invite me to join his team for Us vs Them when it seemed like the hobby for the entire industry was to drag my name through mud as if I was a washed up never was... spoke volumes to me about his character... and I'm glad to have known him, even for the short time I have.
I'm glad I lived up to his hopes for me and I could secure the win for my team... and I'm glad I didn't let him down after all the trust he put in me to do my part.
He deserved better... but his memory will live on in all of us.
The new show... WGWF Smash... the marquee Title for the brand - the former Entity Title now named the Smash Title... and everyone who was ever involved with Smash and the times we shared in and around his ring... all of that ensures his legacy will carry on for a long time to come... at least if I have anything to say about it, that is.
Speaking of someone who has something to say, seemingly about everything...
Ms. Myst.
A pleasure to finally meet you after your illustrious beginning here in the WGWF. Welcome to the show.
You've really begun to make a name for yourself around here with your antics... but this week on BRAWL, you aren't climbing into the ring with just anyone, my dear... you're climbing in there with the Beast.
All the snide insults and condescending anecdotes don't mean a damn thing to me. Your taunts and the snarky little words that you use to get inside the heads and under the skin of your other opponents are just that... words... easily ignored and worth far less than the minutes of my time you're going to take up on Monday night while I pick up another singles victory on my path to winning the Cannabis Cup and reclaiming my WGWF World Heavyweight Title for a third time.
Don't get me wrong... this has nothing to do with you being a woman.
I'm sure you're going try to tell the world how I'm going to underestimate you because of your gender, but my estimation of you has nothing to do with that, and you couldn't be further from the truth.
No... my estimation of your ability to take care of business in the ring with me has more to do with experience... mine more specifically. See... in the last few months I've been in the ring with athletes who can throw one single punch with more force than you can physically generate with your entire body mass... and they couldn't knock me out... so what makes you think you can even take me off my feet, let alone pin me?
Ask Mac Bane how hard he can hit... and I bet you any money he shows you right there on the spot. Ask Enigma how much force is at the end of his fist when he means to take you out with every ounce of his being. Ask Clyde Newton how much heart he's got to leave in the middle of the ring each and every night. Ask Bam Miller how much... on second thought... better not ask Bam a lot of math questions, actually. I hear his only answer is 'Brick'... but... you could go ask the newly returning Devlin Knight just what it takes to put a Beast down when you have to... but he might not have an answer you'll like to hear. Hell... for that matter... go ask Chaos what it's like to be in the ring with me. I'm sure he has some splendid insight on the subject.
You see, Jennifer... it isn't that I doubt your heart... or your ability... or your drive to be a great talent in this industry.
I don't.
Trust that I believe one day you will be a great Superstar under the banner of the WGWF.
I do.
But I know what I'm capable of... and I know what's on the horizon for me here.
If roster members who have laid claim to global accolades laden from shoulder to wrist on both arms with titles from far off lands or feature talents from around the world with undeniable legacies and even past and future Hall of Famer's don't give me pause in my path... then what hope do you have of halting the Beast in his hunt for the only prize that matters enough to care about?
I have a destiny, Ms. Myst... and unfortunately for you... you're little more than vapors hanging in the air between me and my goals, and come Monday night... I'm going to huff... and I'm going to puff... and I'm going to blow you right out of my way.
* * * * *
A massive light rack swings through the air in a delicate dance hoisted by a crane platform erecting the ring area for the upcoming WGWF Event over the center of the pitchers mound at Evergreen Field in Orlando, Florida. The sun is bright, and hazy little clouds float by overhead in the early fall afternoon. The blue and white seats of the stands glint in the sunlight as a tuft of clouds drifts by and a crew of men work diligently to put the pieces of the stage and lighting together.
To the left of home plate, high above the field, was a large bay of windows. The Owner's skybox overlooked the field from the best vantage point in the stadium, and today, John Cable was using his private viewing box as a meeting room for the closest of his staff.
Owen sat lazily on a tall bar stool with one single metal tube as a center support that flared out into four wide splayed legs at the base. He leaned back heavily on the side of the white granite bar-top looking like he would rather be anywhere but here right now. Behind him, in the small kitchenette, Darina stood rigidly with her arms crossed across her chest, staring daggers at John greeting newcomers by the doorway. She had had some choice words after the incident in Nevada the other week, and he still hadn't figured out a way to explain exactly what was going on yet. They were both in full armor, despite only one of them seeming like they needed it, and in truth, Darina hadn't taken hers off for longer than it took to shower in weeks.
Sitting calmly on the small white couch centered near the large bay windows was the Citizen, Aaron Gold, CEO and operating officer of the New Breed Foundation... John's brother in law and an extremely capable business man who had proven his acumen for the company many times over. As John greeted one of the many financial advisors and lawyers who were present, Aaron tipped his glass towards one of the men who had just come in, and John looked over the room once before turning to the door and closing it behind them.
“Thank you for being here today, ladies and gentlemen. I do appreciate you taking the time out of your schedules to meet me here to finalize the paperwork for the event and make sure that we've dotted all of our tees and crossed all of our eyes. If we could look at packet B2 for just a moment...” John welcomed them to the meeting and began discussing the minutia of the dealings with WGWF Financial and Legal departments as Owen rolled his eyes and spun around on the stool to face away from the table of suits.
“This is my least favorite part of the job, you know?” Owen whispered to Darina across the bar.
“Yeah... I get that. My least favorite part of the job is when your client turns out to be a time lord with a synth infestation and an assassin droid for a pet.” she scoffs, still boring holes through Cable's mask with her glare.
“Rina... you gotta let it go, girl. Seriously.” Owen snorts derisively at her and rolls his eyes again.
“Which part, Owen... the part where John is a time lord, or the part where armies of robot AIs are coming through dimensional portals to attack him?” Darina fires back, her temper already piqued.
“The part about R2 being an assassin droid. I mean, com...” Owen starts to answer before Darina grabs him by the collar of his armor chest-plate and pulls him across the bar top to eye level with her.
“That is EXACTLY what that thing is... and don't you forget it, or it'll be you he turns into a cloud of red mist the next time he goes on a killing spree and mega-morphs into a megazord, OK?” she seethes between clenched teeth quietly, the look in her eyes telling a tale of just how seriously she takes this fear of the little egg shaped drone from the far distant future.
“OK... chill out, Rina. I get it. Watch the floating egg monster. Geez.” he remarks quietly before getting up from the stool and heading towards the door. “I'm gonna go keep a watch in the hall. Yell if you need me.” he says gruffly before disappearing outside.
* * * * *
“I really don't give a shit if you like it or not, John. You didn't leave me a lot of choices here, you know? It ain't like some green eared security guard is going to take a job like this, and even if they did, they'd just end up dead any damned way. You needed an army here, John, and that's what I got.” Darina chided Cable from across the sky box.
The meeting had gone on forever, and by now, Darina was at her wits end waiting to get this off her chest. He had voiced his displeasure at her selections for the new security detail a few days ago before they had come back to Florida to oversee the preparations at Evergreen Field for the show and when she had tried to explain the issues the new mission parameters posed he had not been as receptive to her advice as she would have liked, to say the least.
“They're mercenaries, Darina.” John says flatly, looking up at her from within his leather face mask.
“Yeah... they are. They're also trusted... so they got one up on the little egg assassin in my mind if I'm honest here.” Darina scoffs in reply.
“R2 hasn't done anything for you not to trust it. I wish you would come off of this idea that...” John starts to say, but Darina cuts him off sharply.
“Oh, no. That isn't true at all, John. There are plenty of reasons for me not to trust the little droid that murders people by turning them to mist and scattered parts and then explains it to the detectives in every detail without remorse. We've been over this before, and whether you want to acknowledge my concerns or not, that doesn't make them less than valid!” She shouts at the masked man across the room.
“Darina, I've heard your concerns... I've really listened to them and honestly considered what you have told me... and I have explained this all before. Yes... R2 did kill a few men. He killed killers... men who were hell bent on killing me and the entire crew at the airport. Because of R2, those men and women are still alive to go home to their families. Without the droid... we all would have been dead.” John says softly, frustrated that Darina is letting this bother her so much.
“John... that thing turned four men into smears on the tarmac. They were unrecognizable as people when it was done for fuck's sake...” she shivers as she recalls the way the blood pools glinted in the lights on the runway that night.
“What did you do to the men who held you captive in Laos?” John asks pointedly, looking right at her from behind the mask.
“That isn't the...” Darina tries to argue, but John holds his hand up to stop her tirade.
“What did you to them, Darina? After Sebastian and Owen found you there in the camp in the jungle... what did you do?” John asks softly again.
“I killed them, John. You know that.” Darina answers flatly, the edge in her voice faltering as she knows where John is going with this already.
“Rina... you didn't just kill them. Sebastian and Owen rescued you, and escaped the camp. That night, when you could have taken your freedom and ran from your captors, you left your rescuers alone in the jungle and went back to take the revenge you felt you were due. You murdered far more than four men that night, and from what I heard... Sebastian and Owen felt the same way about you for a while after that you do about R2.. but you know that, don't you? You know how what they saw in that camp the next morning stuck with them for quite some time... and every now and then... if he's honest... Owen still thinks about it. What you did to those men terrified Owen so bad he still has nightmares about what they found there... what you did there... and yet... you can't understand why R2 did what it did?” John asks, pushing the issue with her further than he usually did, but needing her to understand the situation, and get over her fears for the future of the group.
“They deserved exactly...” she starts to respond.
“And as far as I'm concerned... those men at JIA deserved what they got too. They had every intention of taking the lives of everyone there that night, and R2 saved them... and saved me. Without that little egg shaped assassin, none of us would be here right now, and where would that leave you? Where would that leave Owen? What about the spouses of the crew? Their kids? Would you have let the tragedy of their loss happen if you had had the power to stop it, or would you have done exactly the same thing in R2's position?” John asks, standing up from the table and making his way over to the white granite bar top separating the kitchenette from the rest of the sky box.
“I know you wouldn't have let those men hurt a single one of us, and if you had the power that R2 has, you would have done exactly the same thing it did. The real issue here isn't WHAT R2 did, but how powerful it really is. I understand the fear of a thing like that... I do... but you're going to have to come to terms with the fact that while R2 may be a weapon of destruction, it's done nothing but try it's best to keep us safe, even if that meant making a few other people less than safe in the process.” John says to her as she turns away from him and paces to the far side of the counter against the wall.
“Look... I know you think you got this all figured out, OK, but what happens when shit breaks down and goes completely sideways? What then?” she snaps at him as she spins to stare at him intently over the bar.
“Darina... I can't live my life on what if's and could'a maybes. The only thing I can do is take each moment of my life as it comes, and deal with it as best as I can. I've learned through many a long year of tragedy and loss and plot twists in the best laid plans that there is nothing under my control except for myself. The only thing I can do is make sure I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, and the same thing with you. I understand that you're not used to being afraid. I know... people like us aren't used to wondering if we're safe... and lately... it's all I can think about too. Believe me... I don't like the feeling either... but if there is anything I'm sure of... it's that R2-IDEA is not a threat to us, and is doing it's damnedest to make sure we're safe.” John says with a clenched jaw and firm conviction in the truth of his words.
“You can't afford to be wrong this time, John. We're not dealing with a top hat here... and there isn't a jail cell at the end of this yellow brick road. This time... there is no end game... just survival or death.” Darina whispers to him across the bar as John sighs deeply.