Post by Gerard Angelo on Dec 10, 2023 14:31:18 GMT -5
Gerard watched the rhythmic heartbeats on the EKG monitor, the annoying beep heard on television and movies turned off. Gerard wished it was on so something would fill the room's silence. He watched his father in the bed, connected to various wires much like he was when they found him in the tank at the facility. Gerard was lucky to be well off enough to get his father set up in his house with most things you can get at a hospital, including home-visiting physicians. He was also rich enough to have them keep quiet. That thing was still pretending to be his father. Living in his father’s house, wearing his clothes, running his company, probably fucking his wife. Gerard shuddered at that. The consequences of all of this were damning but he wasn’t ready to confront anyone. He needed his father for that.
Unfortunately, Tony Angelo was currently comatose. The doctors said that he must have faced too much trauma with whatever happened to him. If Tony were to wake up, it would have to be him. There was nothing more they could do except wait. The most they did was sew up the cut from where Amelia had removed the tracking device from his father’s arm. Gerry had given it to Jimmy the Ronin to dispose of. Most likely it was at the bottom of the Bay now.
Gerry spent most of the time he wasn’t on the road here in the room, sitting next to his father, hoping to see an eyelid flutter or a finger move. Despite all of their differences over the years, despite the arguments and abuse, the man was still his father, and seeing him in his current state was painful. Combined with the stress of nearly dying during the escape from the Phoenix Project facility, Angelo was not in the best mental state. He spent much of his time reminiscing about the choices that brought him to this. Thinking of his past, thinking of her.
He was no stranger to thinking of how different things could’ve been had he made different decisions here and there. He never really believed in the butterfly effect but it damn sure seemed to be present in his life. Had he made a different decision years ago, maybe he wouldn’t be here wondering if his father would ever wake up from a coma. Maybe he would be at his vacation home with Kara, watching a Christmas movie with their two kids while she nibbled on an extra Christmas cookie to feed the third on the way. Perhaps he’d be retired from a business that involved him breaking his back, figuratively and literally, to put on show after show for a fanbase that never seemed to be satisfied. He would possibly be doing movies full-time now. Maybe he could’ve had a nice recurring role in the Fast and the Furious saga. He could’ve spent six movies pretending Vin Diesel wasn’t five foot eight. Maybe he could've sold out and done the Marvel Cinematic Universe. He could’ve made Eternals watchable. Hell, even the DCEU was an option. He always thought he'd make a great Green Lantern.
The question always was, would he have been as successful in his original passion? Would making those different choices have led him down a different path in professional wrestling? Perhaps the reason he was always after more in wrestling, more titles, more accolades, was because he was trying to fill the hole that she left in him. Maybe Gerard Angelo isn’t the Living Legend without losing Kara. It was a real Greek tragedy that he loved both her and wrestling and yet he could only have one.
Gerard thought about calling her but he knew she was over him. She told him this the last time he tried to win her back. She had moved on and he was still stuck in the past. Sure he had a bunch of petty flings with Instagram thots, actresses, and singers but it was only desires of the flesh. Kara was still the only one for him even after all these years. Gerard reached into his pocket, pulling his iPhone out. He opened his contacts and scrolled until he pressed on her number. He stared at the ten digits, all the things he wanted to say to her running through his head a million miles a minute. He lingered on it for a few more moments before he sighed and locked his phone, slipping it back into the pocket of his shorts.
There was no time for that now he thought, continuing to watch his father’s EKG machine. He needed to save his family before anything.
I should be the World Heavyweight Champion right now. I should be holding that twenty pounds of gold up right now and laughing at Tatiana Jolee and Downfall. I did everything right at Turmoil. I defended my All-In briefcase despite being unfairly booked in a match. I dribbled Dake’s dumb fucking head off the canvas with my foot and showed him that no matter the last name, he's still a fucking nobody. I proved to Teo that despite being the best of CruiserClash, coming up to the A show is like an XFL team playing an NFL team. You get smoked by the better team.
I had Downfall right where I wanted him. Nearly an entire year's worth of plotting and planning was about to pay off and Gerard Angelo could finally reclaim his throne. And honestly, the only thing better than going All-In on Jill Park would be to do it on that smug fuck Dorkfall, because the tantrum after would’ve been like tasting A5 Waygu for the first time. Not to mention watching TJ still try to pretend she wasn’t a transitional champion as the title came back to a real star.
Mmm, chef’s kiss.
Except as I was going to save Action Wrestling from a boring egomaniac, some fucking dipshit decides to make his dumb fucking return at my expense. Seriously, who the fuck is this piece of shit Shadowlove? All I know is he tagged with Sam Kidsgrove. Anyone who willingly hung out with that dribbling shit has a brain the size of a quail egg.
Shadowdork, I get it, buddy. You needed the rub really bad, so you decided to come for the biggest star in the business. Kudos. I’d do the same thing. I hope you enjoyed your fifteen minutes of fame because on Clash it’s time to pay the fucking piper, bitch. You’re going to see why I was the fastest-rising star in the history of this company when I slap seven shades of shit outta you. Things have changed since you’ve been here, you fucking goon. This is my company now. I’m the guy that does the media appearances. I’m the best in the ring and on the mic. I even retired your dumb little buddy Kidsgrove for good and I’m gonna do the same to you.
You’re gonna rue the day you stuck your crooked fucking nose into my business, cocksucker. I’m sick of all you fucking dipshits trying to make a name for yourself off me. You show up after two-plus years and wanna get the Gerard Angelo rub. Chase Jackson won’t shut his jobber mouth up about me. You two dorks might as well follow me on socials since you’re both fucking fans.
Don’t think I forgot about your unevenly shaped head Dake. Was it always that weird block shape or did I do that when I made you eat fucking canvas at Turmoil you fucking prick? You fucking nepobabies in this business are all the same. You think because your parent was on a wrestling roster for a cup of coffee, you’re fucking owed something. And that dumb motherfucker Brady Bolt keeps feeding into that ridiculous idea. How many World title shots have you gotten since you’ve been on Clash? More than a lot of other deserving people on the roster. I’m not even a guy who cares about the others who work here, I’m just pointing out the fact you fucking suck.
What is it that you do that’s impressive? Yell really loud into the microphone like it covers up the fact you read at a third-grade level? You have the body tolerance for anabolic steroids like your daddy? All I see is the poster child for why Omega Championship Wrestling fucking failed. You were supposed to be molded into a star of the future and you came out like this. Millions and millions of dollars were pumped into that brand and it was fucking wasted. You can't cut a promo and you wrestle like a walrus on a unicycle. If your last name wasn’t Ken, you’d be the bartender at an Applebee’s hitting on underage hosts. Now go make me a fucking Dollarita, dipshit.
Hey Downfall, old buddy. Congrats on winning the World title. Hopefully, you sent Shadowlove an Edible Arrangement for making sure your second reign wasn’t shorter than your first. Because you know I would’ve been walking out of Turmoil with the World Heavyweight Championship, right? I just wanted you to remember that while you’re getting ready to injure your shoulder jerking yourself off about winning. I’m sure you are going to waste forty minutes of airtime Monday taking a victory lap. Just remember, I still hold All-In which means I can deus ex machina this motherfucker anytime I want.
So enjoy your moment in the sun, buddy. I’ll eclipse you soon.
Oh and Jolee, Teo, I really don’t give a fuck you’re my partners. I’m only showing up to get my hands on Shadowlove. So just follow my lead. Being the only person who won their match at Turmoil, I’m appointing myself the team leader.
Because it’s the only way we all get a Hollywood Ending.
Doctor John Windthrope sat in his office, his sharp blue eyes flitting behind his spectacles as they scanned an expense report held in his slender fingers. It was going to take a large sum of money to repair the foyer which was riddled with machine gun fire and the van crashing into it. Good thing AngTech would foot the bill. One of the perks of having such a close relationship with the CEO. However, having the other CEO on the lamb wasn’t good for the Project. He had checked the tracker and it was located in the middle of the San Francisco Bay, so Windthrope knew it had been removed. That was no matter though, he had a hunch who took Anthony. It was probably the same person harboring Subject 42.
He had thought about just sending the Bronze Company to retrieve them both but thought better of it. Captain Castle was a man with all the subtlety of a nuclear bomb. They would draw far too much attention with their tactics. The good doctor thought of another way to get what he wanted though.
He just had to make a phone call. Which he would do once the foyer was repaired.
Can’t invite guests to a dirty home.
Unfortunately, Tony Angelo was currently comatose. The doctors said that he must have faced too much trauma with whatever happened to him. If Tony were to wake up, it would have to be him. There was nothing more they could do except wait. The most they did was sew up the cut from where Amelia had removed the tracking device from his father’s arm. Gerry had given it to Jimmy the Ronin to dispose of. Most likely it was at the bottom of the Bay now.
Gerry spent most of the time he wasn’t on the road here in the room, sitting next to his father, hoping to see an eyelid flutter or a finger move. Despite all of their differences over the years, despite the arguments and abuse, the man was still his father, and seeing him in his current state was painful. Combined with the stress of nearly dying during the escape from the Phoenix Project facility, Angelo was not in the best mental state. He spent much of his time reminiscing about the choices that brought him to this. Thinking of his past, thinking of her.
He was no stranger to thinking of how different things could’ve been had he made different decisions here and there. He never really believed in the butterfly effect but it damn sure seemed to be present in his life. Had he made a different decision years ago, maybe he wouldn’t be here wondering if his father would ever wake up from a coma. Maybe he would be at his vacation home with Kara, watching a Christmas movie with their two kids while she nibbled on an extra Christmas cookie to feed the third on the way. Perhaps he’d be retired from a business that involved him breaking his back, figuratively and literally, to put on show after show for a fanbase that never seemed to be satisfied. He would possibly be doing movies full-time now. Maybe he could’ve had a nice recurring role in the Fast and the Furious saga. He could’ve spent six movies pretending Vin Diesel wasn’t five foot eight. Maybe he could've sold out and done the Marvel Cinematic Universe. He could’ve made Eternals watchable. Hell, even the DCEU was an option. He always thought he'd make a great Green Lantern.
The question always was, would he have been as successful in his original passion? Would making those different choices have led him down a different path in professional wrestling? Perhaps the reason he was always after more in wrestling, more titles, more accolades, was because he was trying to fill the hole that she left in him. Maybe Gerard Angelo isn’t the Living Legend without losing Kara. It was a real Greek tragedy that he loved both her and wrestling and yet he could only have one.
Gerard thought about calling her but he knew she was over him. She told him this the last time he tried to win her back. She had moved on and he was still stuck in the past. Sure he had a bunch of petty flings with Instagram thots, actresses, and singers but it was only desires of the flesh. Kara was still the only one for him even after all these years. Gerard reached into his pocket, pulling his iPhone out. He opened his contacts and scrolled until he pressed on her number. He stared at the ten digits, all the things he wanted to say to her running through his head a million miles a minute. He lingered on it for a few more moments before he sighed and locked his phone, slipping it back into the pocket of his shorts.
There was no time for that now he thought, continuing to watch his father’s EKG machine. He needed to save his family before anything.
I should be the World Heavyweight Champion right now. I should be holding that twenty pounds of gold up right now and laughing at Tatiana Jolee and Downfall. I did everything right at Turmoil. I defended my All-In briefcase despite being unfairly booked in a match. I dribbled Dake’s dumb fucking head off the canvas with my foot and showed him that no matter the last name, he's still a fucking nobody. I proved to Teo that despite being the best of CruiserClash, coming up to the A show is like an XFL team playing an NFL team. You get smoked by the better team.
I had Downfall right where I wanted him. Nearly an entire year's worth of plotting and planning was about to pay off and Gerard Angelo could finally reclaim his throne. And honestly, the only thing better than going All-In on Jill Park would be to do it on that smug fuck Dorkfall, because the tantrum after would’ve been like tasting A5 Waygu for the first time. Not to mention watching TJ still try to pretend she wasn’t a transitional champion as the title came back to a real star.
Mmm, chef’s kiss.
Except as I was going to save Action Wrestling from a boring egomaniac, some fucking dipshit decides to make his dumb fucking return at my expense. Seriously, who the fuck is this piece of shit Shadowlove? All I know is he tagged with Sam Kidsgrove. Anyone who willingly hung out with that dribbling shit has a brain the size of a quail egg.
Shadowdork, I get it, buddy. You needed the rub really bad, so you decided to come for the biggest star in the business. Kudos. I’d do the same thing. I hope you enjoyed your fifteen minutes of fame because on Clash it’s time to pay the fucking piper, bitch. You’re going to see why I was the fastest-rising star in the history of this company when I slap seven shades of shit outta you. Things have changed since you’ve been here, you fucking goon. This is my company now. I’m the guy that does the media appearances. I’m the best in the ring and on the mic. I even retired your dumb little buddy Kidsgrove for good and I’m gonna do the same to you.
You’re gonna rue the day you stuck your crooked fucking nose into my business, cocksucker. I’m sick of all you fucking dipshits trying to make a name for yourself off me. You show up after two-plus years and wanna get the Gerard Angelo rub. Chase Jackson won’t shut his jobber mouth up about me. You two dorks might as well follow me on socials since you’re both fucking fans.
Don’t think I forgot about your unevenly shaped head Dake. Was it always that weird block shape or did I do that when I made you eat fucking canvas at Turmoil you fucking prick? You fucking nepobabies in this business are all the same. You think because your parent was on a wrestling roster for a cup of coffee, you’re fucking owed something. And that dumb motherfucker Brady Bolt keeps feeding into that ridiculous idea. How many World title shots have you gotten since you’ve been on Clash? More than a lot of other deserving people on the roster. I’m not even a guy who cares about the others who work here, I’m just pointing out the fact you fucking suck.
What is it that you do that’s impressive? Yell really loud into the microphone like it covers up the fact you read at a third-grade level? You have the body tolerance for anabolic steroids like your daddy? All I see is the poster child for why Omega Championship Wrestling fucking failed. You were supposed to be molded into a star of the future and you came out like this. Millions and millions of dollars were pumped into that brand and it was fucking wasted. You can't cut a promo and you wrestle like a walrus on a unicycle. If your last name wasn’t Ken, you’d be the bartender at an Applebee’s hitting on underage hosts. Now go make me a fucking Dollarita, dipshit.
Hey Downfall, old buddy. Congrats on winning the World title. Hopefully, you sent Shadowlove an Edible Arrangement for making sure your second reign wasn’t shorter than your first. Because you know I would’ve been walking out of Turmoil with the World Heavyweight Championship, right? I just wanted you to remember that while you’re getting ready to injure your shoulder jerking yourself off about winning. I’m sure you are going to waste forty minutes of airtime Monday taking a victory lap. Just remember, I still hold All-In which means I can deus ex machina this motherfucker anytime I want.
So enjoy your moment in the sun, buddy. I’ll eclipse you soon.
Oh and Jolee, Teo, I really don’t give a fuck you’re my partners. I’m only showing up to get my hands on Shadowlove. So just follow my lead. Being the only person who won their match at Turmoil, I’m appointing myself the team leader.
Because it’s the only way we all get a Hollywood Ending.
Doctor John Windthrope sat in his office, his sharp blue eyes flitting behind his spectacles as they scanned an expense report held in his slender fingers. It was going to take a large sum of money to repair the foyer which was riddled with machine gun fire and the van crashing into it. Good thing AngTech would foot the bill. One of the perks of having such a close relationship with the CEO. However, having the other CEO on the lamb wasn’t good for the Project. He had checked the tracker and it was located in the middle of the San Francisco Bay, so Windthrope knew it had been removed. That was no matter though, he had a hunch who took Anthony. It was probably the same person harboring Subject 42.
He had thought about just sending the Bronze Company to retrieve them both but thought better of it. Captain Castle was a man with all the subtlety of a nuclear bomb. They would draw far too much attention with their tactics. The good doctor thought of another way to get what he wanted though.
He just had to make a phone call. Which he would do once the foyer was repaired.
Can’t invite guests to a dirty home.