Post by 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗬 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 on Oct 19, 2019 14:06:14 GMT -5
The big, bright letters of the Hollywood sign shine in the distance as a black car pulls up to a swanky mansion. People are walking up to the door of this mega home dressed to the nines. Gowns, dresses, suits and ties but with subtle masks. The kind you'd see at a discount Halloween shop, only covering the eyes and embedded on a stick. Limousines, giant SUVs and tricked out sports cars line the drive as this small black two door comes to a stop among the pack. It's dark outside, moon casting its glow over the hills. Recognizable names are walking toward this two story, multi-million dollar estate. It's a big elegant All Hallows Eve extravaganza.
And somehow Corey Black was invited.
Somehow being his affiliation with the biggest pop star in the world.
Out of the modest vehicle steps Corey Black, he too is dressed in a black on black on black suit and his face is masked. The hair and beard give it away easily. From the passenger side steps Taylor Swift, also dressed in a short dress and mask. They begin their journey toward the party when Corey whispers toward his date.
"I absolutely hate this."
"I know you do, but this is what life is like. I get invited to these parties and my publicist says I have to go schmooze the executives."
Corey visibly grits his teeth and shakes his head as they reach the door. Inside is a lavishly decorated, clearly six maid staffed dwelling of some well known suit. Bowls of punch and food line the walls, people are in small groups talking and fake laughing at every awful joke. Corey almost visibly cringes as he escorts Taylor though the party and to a dark corner away from everything.
"Go do your thing, I'll be around."
"People want to see us together is the thing."
"Don't people know I have a huge main event to worry about in England?"
"Well.. I don't think the people here really care about what you or anyone does, it's how much power you have. You used to run the biggest wrestling company in the world. They probably view you as a mogul."
"I'm just a guy that wants to compete, Taylor. I don't want to yuck it up with Jared Leto over there."
Standing by himself and giggling is Jared Leto.
"I know, I know. Look, I'll do all the talking, you just nod and laugh when you need to."
Taylor takes Corey by the hand and leads him to a group of people, one much louder than the others. They're spouting off about how many small businesses they have recently swallowed.
"And then I went and bought that record company that found - OH WOW Taylor you made it!"
The gray haired man reaches over and gives Taylor a one arm hug, the rest of the group, maybe four guys, all gawk and shake her hand. She turns to Corey.
"Gentlemen, this is Corey Black. He's one of the best wrestlers on the planet."
The gray haired man's eyes go wide, he shakes his head.
"Wrestler? Just a wrestler? What is he doing here? This is my party for networking, who needs to network with a nobody wrestler? Hahahaaa!"
The other men laugh as well, Taylor looks back to Corey and he does what he does best. He laughs too.
"Hahaaa man I fuckin' knew this whole scene was full of people that don't know shit beyond their own egos. Where's the bathroom?"
Corey storms off, Taylor throwing her arms into the air as he walks. He nearly busts down a nearby door and finds two men putting a white powdery substance up their noses. With their pants down.
"Oh, uh.. sorry?"
Black shuts the door and heads up the stairs, pushing his way past suited men as he hunts for a bathroom. He goes in another door to find three men using a woman to their delight. There's a look of disgust in her eyes as the old, ugly dudes continue on, even inviting Corey in. He stops himself from unleashing The Avenger on them and instead closes the door. Ultimately fed up, he goes back downstairs and heads for the door, grabbing Taylor's hand as he does. She gleefully skips along with him and as he turns the handle a voice shouts from the party.
"You know my boys are going to end you, right?"
Corey has the door open a few inches but he has paused. He turns his head to Taylor, who looks back at him with that look. You know the one. She's pretty well done pandering too. So Corey slowly closes the door and turns back toward the mansion. The gray haired man stands alone in the middle of the foyer. He shouted at Corey.
"Your boys, eh? The Hollywood Elite, I presume? The guys that care more about their image than their profession? Of course they'd be 'your boys.' The same guy that just said nobody cares about a nobody wrestler. Is it because I don't come to these self-serving masturbatory galas to shove piles of coke in my nose and fuck women that are paid to allow me the pleasure? You're all the same. Every last soul in this god forsaken industry. You're in it for yourself, to get yourself over and to make yourself forget what hard work is really like. I bet none of you have ever really worked a day in your life. Everything was handed to you. Your wealth comes from other people doing your dirty work.
Well, that's just not me. I do my own work. I defend my championship three times in a month. I put your boy Thad down. But the rest of them, Shadowlove and Kidsgrove, they couldn't allow that to be the end of the story. They couldn't allow a Man Made God to stand tall over their fallen comrade, even if the match was on the books. See, I do shit the right way. I make sure a ref is present when I get my hands dirty. I don't sneak attack, I come straight at your face and I put my elbow through it."
Corey takes a few steps toward the man in the foyer.
"That's just it, around here it's dog eat dog but only behind the scenes. You're not even stabbing each other in the back, you're stabbing each other by proxy. Deep down you want everyone to fail so you're the only one making the money. You're on a pedestal because if you weren't, you'd never be able to live with yourself. You're not even good enough to be where your head thinks you're at. Everyone else 'below' you think you're a bunch of jackasses with a superiority complex. Nobody looks up to anyone in Hollywood, it's all a facade to make gullible people shovel more money at you. People that have stars in their eyes because you live in a mansion and rub elbows with Jared Leto."
Jared Leto's ears perk up. Corey rolls his eyes.
"That guy is in a shitty band and makes shitty movies. But he is royalty because he makes people think he matters. Thad, Shadow and Sam - they make people THINK they matter. You make people THINK you matter. I make people KNOW I matter. Frank and RJ, they make people KNOW. In ten years, where will you be? When the donations and shoddy business partners smarten up, where are you going to end up? Skid Row? Because you have no support system. Every single person in this party is only here to say they were here. To post it on Instagram and maybe network with every other shitty soul here and find more suckers to believe the lies.
I'm not a fucking sucker."
Corey grabs his mask and throws it on the ground.
"I'm the King of All Wrestlers, the premier combat sports competitor on this fucking planet. I don't need to post on Twitter to garner attention. Pro wrestling isn't my second choice. I didn't start off doing something else and decide 'hmm, sure, I'll try wrestling.' I never failed at being what I was and had to turn to combat like Kidsgrove. This guy had it all and because he's a prick, he lost it,. And now instead of a lush career just acting for Netflix and going on The Tonight Show, his life is in danger within Hell in a Cell. It was this very environment that we currently stand that drove the wedge between Sam and hiw wife, sent him spiraling down and made him crash. A common theme within this toxic industry. The world latched onto someone else and left him with NOTHING. Because he is just that. Nothing. Without the fame and fortune, he's no better than anyone else that have worked their way up to the position they're in now. Sam Kidsgrove thinks Sam Kidsgrove is still a household name and because he once was a big deal people care. He's the only one. His back to back losses in a bid to be World Champion surely should have been a wake up call. Sam belongs with the rest of you here. Scum.
I bet you also believe Shadowlove's hype, don't you? That makes two. This guy spouts off about this and that and everything else. He's his own biggest fan, his own personal hype machine - except nobody is buying his bullshit either. It's a theme within these guys, maybe they believe the other is the best. When reality dictates otherwise. These guys are nothing more than the men that have tried to attack us for weeks. Shadowlove is the worst of them. A man who has done nothing to prove he is anything more than a self-obsessed jackass in Action Wrestling. He was a nobody afterthought in WCF and he's less than that here. Yet, in the eyes of you and the rest of the cronies, Shadowlove is the second coming of Christ. Because he's just stupid enough to believe himself. That's an actual mental disorder. He lies to himself so much that sooner or later the lies become reality. You eat that shit up, you can use this guy to make you fat stacks and that appeals to your need to matter.
Check this, Shadow - ya ain't shit. You'll never match up with Frank or I. And when we mold RJ Collins into the actual fucking beast he can be, he'll eat you alive too.
While you guys are out here keeping your own images up, trying to suck the dick of the next biggest superstar above poor, shitty Jared Leto over here, I'm the guy finding young talent to mold to greatness. I'm the guy teaming up with an old foe to rebuild a tag division The Hollywood Elite would rather discard, I'm the Hardcore Champion building yet another legendary reign to raise the belt beyond any man's dreams. I'm the guy shutting up all the detractors. And bitch, I'm the guy that will make fucking sure The Hollywood Elite finally get theirs. No amount of coke, lawyers, hookers or stacks of cash will heal the wounds I'm about to lay on you. You were bred by a culture that praises wealth and status without lifting more than a finger. I was bred to fucking fight. Thad knows what he has coming, welcome to Hell."
The gray haired man goes to say something but he is interrupted with a foot to the chin, Corey Black pops off a superkick. Taylor Swift yelps, startled, and everyone else around look on in horror. But none of them help. Nobody does anything, Corey is in fighting position, waiting for a brawl. There isn't one coming.
"Just as I thought. One could go down, that just means more for everyone else."
Corey grabs Taylor's hand again and leads her out the door, before it closes her free hand flips off the party.
And somehow Corey Black was invited.
Somehow being his affiliation with the biggest pop star in the world.
Out of the modest vehicle steps Corey Black, he too is dressed in a black on black on black suit and his face is masked. The hair and beard give it away easily. From the passenger side steps Taylor Swift, also dressed in a short dress and mask. They begin their journey toward the party when Corey whispers toward his date.
"I absolutely hate this."
"I know you do, but this is what life is like. I get invited to these parties and my publicist says I have to go schmooze the executives."
Corey visibly grits his teeth and shakes his head as they reach the door. Inside is a lavishly decorated, clearly six maid staffed dwelling of some well known suit. Bowls of punch and food line the walls, people are in small groups talking and fake laughing at every awful joke. Corey almost visibly cringes as he escorts Taylor though the party and to a dark corner away from everything.
"Go do your thing, I'll be around."
"People want to see us together is the thing."
"Don't people know I have a huge main event to worry about in England?"
"Well.. I don't think the people here really care about what you or anyone does, it's how much power you have. You used to run the biggest wrestling company in the world. They probably view you as a mogul."
"I'm just a guy that wants to compete, Taylor. I don't want to yuck it up with Jared Leto over there."
Standing by himself and giggling is Jared Leto.
"I know, I know. Look, I'll do all the talking, you just nod and laugh when you need to."
Taylor takes Corey by the hand and leads him to a group of people, one much louder than the others. They're spouting off about how many small businesses they have recently swallowed.
"And then I went and bought that record company that found - OH WOW Taylor you made it!"
The gray haired man reaches over and gives Taylor a one arm hug, the rest of the group, maybe four guys, all gawk and shake her hand. She turns to Corey.
"Gentlemen, this is Corey Black. He's one of the best wrestlers on the planet."
The gray haired man's eyes go wide, he shakes his head.
"Wrestler? Just a wrestler? What is he doing here? This is my party for networking, who needs to network with a nobody wrestler? Hahahaaa!"
The other men laugh as well, Taylor looks back to Corey and he does what he does best. He laughs too.
"Hahaaa man I fuckin' knew this whole scene was full of people that don't know shit beyond their own egos. Where's the bathroom?"
Corey storms off, Taylor throwing her arms into the air as he walks. He nearly busts down a nearby door and finds two men putting a white powdery substance up their noses. With their pants down.
"Oh, uh.. sorry?"
Black shuts the door and heads up the stairs, pushing his way past suited men as he hunts for a bathroom. He goes in another door to find three men using a woman to their delight. There's a look of disgust in her eyes as the old, ugly dudes continue on, even inviting Corey in. He stops himself from unleashing The Avenger on them and instead closes the door. Ultimately fed up, he goes back downstairs and heads for the door, grabbing Taylor's hand as he does. She gleefully skips along with him and as he turns the handle a voice shouts from the party.
"You know my boys are going to end you, right?"
Corey has the door open a few inches but he has paused. He turns his head to Taylor, who looks back at him with that look. You know the one. She's pretty well done pandering too. So Corey slowly closes the door and turns back toward the mansion. The gray haired man stands alone in the middle of the foyer. He shouted at Corey.
"Your boys, eh? The Hollywood Elite, I presume? The guys that care more about their image than their profession? Of course they'd be 'your boys.' The same guy that just said nobody cares about a nobody wrestler. Is it because I don't come to these self-serving masturbatory galas to shove piles of coke in my nose and fuck women that are paid to allow me the pleasure? You're all the same. Every last soul in this god forsaken industry. You're in it for yourself, to get yourself over and to make yourself forget what hard work is really like. I bet none of you have ever really worked a day in your life. Everything was handed to you. Your wealth comes from other people doing your dirty work.
Well, that's just not me. I do my own work. I defend my championship three times in a month. I put your boy Thad down. But the rest of them, Shadowlove and Kidsgrove, they couldn't allow that to be the end of the story. They couldn't allow a Man Made God to stand tall over their fallen comrade, even if the match was on the books. See, I do shit the right way. I make sure a ref is present when I get my hands dirty. I don't sneak attack, I come straight at your face and I put my elbow through it."
Corey takes a few steps toward the man in the foyer.
"That's just it, around here it's dog eat dog but only behind the scenes. You're not even stabbing each other in the back, you're stabbing each other by proxy. Deep down you want everyone to fail so you're the only one making the money. You're on a pedestal because if you weren't, you'd never be able to live with yourself. You're not even good enough to be where your head thinks you're at. Everyone else 'below' you think you're a bunch of jackasses with a superiority complex. Nobody looks up to anyone in Hollywood, it's all a facade to make gullible people shovel more money at you. People that have stars in their eyes because you live in a mansion and rub elbows with Jared Leto."
Jared Leto's ears perk up. Corey rolls his eyes.
"That guy is in a shitty band and makes shitty movies. But he is royalty because he makes people think he matters. Thad, Shadow and Sam - they make people THINK they matter. You make people THINK you matter. I make people KNOW I matter. Frank and RJ, they make people KNOW. In ten years, where will you be? When the donations and shoddy business partners smarten up, where are you going to end up? Skid Row? Because you have no support system. Every single person in this party is only here to say they were here. To post it on Instagram and maybe network with every other shitty soul here and find more suckers to believe the lies.
I'm not a fucking sucker."
Corey grabs his mask and throws it on the ground.
"I'm the King of All Wrestlers, the premier combat sports competitor on this fucking planet. I don't need to post on Twitter to garner attention. Pro wrestling isn't my second choice. I didn't start off doing something else and decide 'hmm, sure, I'll try wrestling.' I never failed at being what I was and had to turn to combat like Kidsgrove. This guy had it all and because he's a prick, he lost it,. And now instead of a lush career just acting for Netflix and going on The Tonight Show, his life is in danger within Hell in a Cell. It was this very environment that we currently stand that drove the wedge between Sam and hiw wife, sent him spiraling down and made him crash. A common theme within this toxic industry. The world latched onto someone else and left him with NOTHING. Because he is just that. Nothing. Without the fame and fortune, he's no better than anyone else that have worked their way up to the position they're in now. Sam Kidsgrove thinks Sam Kidsgrove is still a household name and because he once was a big deal people care. He's the only one. His back to back losses in a bid to be World Champion surely should have been a wake up call. Sam belongs with the rest of you here. Scum.
I bet you also believe Shadowlove's hype, don't you? That makes two. This guy spouts off about this and that and everything else. He's his own biggest fan, his own personal hype machine - except nobody is buying his bullshit either. It's a theme within these guys, maybe they believe the other is the best. When reality dictates otherwise. These guys are nothing more than the men that have tried to attack us for weeks. Shadowlove is the worst of them. A man who has done nothing to prove he is anything more than a self-obsessed jackass in Action Wrestling. He was a nobody afterthought in WCF and he's less than that here. Yet, in the eyes of you and the rest of the cronies, Shadowlove is the second coming of Christ. Because he's just stupid enough to believe himself. That's an actual mental disorder. He lies to himself so much that sooner or later the lies become reality. You eat that shit up, you can use this guy to make you fat stacks and that appeals to your need to matter.
Check this, Shadow - ya ain't shit. You'll never match up with Frank or I. And when we mold RJ Collins into the actual fucking beast he can be, he'll eat you alive too.
While you guys are out here keeping your own images up, trying to suck the dick of the next biggest superstar above poor, shitty Jared Leto over here, I'm the guy finding young talent to mold to greatness. I'm the guy teaming up with an old foe to rebuild a tag division The Hollywood Elite would rather discard, I'm the Hardcore Champion building yet another legendary reign to raise the belt beyond any man's dreams. I'm the guy shutting up all the detractors. And bitch, I'm the guy that will make fucking sure The Hollywood Elite finally get theirs. No amount of coke, lawyers, hookers or stacks of cash will heal the wounds I'm about to lay on you. You were bred by a culture that praises wealth and status without lifting more than a finger. I was bred to fucking fight. Thad knows what he has coming, welcome to Hell."
The gray haired man goes to say something but he is interrupted with a foot to the chin, Corey Black pops off a superkick. Taylor Swift yelps, startled, and everyone else around look on in horror. But none of them help. Nobody does anything, Corey is in fighting position, waiting for a brawl. There isn't one coming.
"Just as I thought. One could go down, that just means more for everyone else."
Corey grabs Taylor's hand again and leads her out the door, before it closes her free hand flips off the party.