Post by Teo Blaze on Nov 14, 2021 13:53:02 GMT -5
“Teo Blaze in the Elite Eight. Just three matches from wrestler of the year. Eliminating the World Champion to do it, no less. It must be a fluke. It must be a mistake. It must be Dandy’s doing. There’s no way that Teo Blaze could actually win this thing...is there?”
Teo sits on a comfortable looking recliner, his hands steepled under his chin as he leans forward, deep in contemplation. As he leans, a bright streak of orange plays its way across the red frames over his eyes, the result of the crackling fireplace Teo stares deeply into.
“And yet here we are. One more win and I’m in the semifinals. Two more wins and I make history as the first ever Cruiserclash representative to make it to the finals of Wrestler of the Year.
So Max...was it a fluke? Was it a one-off? Is this where the miracle ends?”
Teo’s eyes wander to a small accent table near the arm of his recliner, where his half of the Cruiserweight Tag Team Titles lays neatly placed. As his eyes pass over the gold, the contemplation turns into the slightest hint of a cocky grin.
“You’d better hope so, Max. Because if you were surprised last week when I beat Kyle Kemp, Dandy or no..?
You haven’t been paying attention.”
All at once Teo leaps to his feet, the camera whirling to keep him in frame as he reaches to the mantle, where a large glass of what appears to be brandy has been placed. He begins walking towards the camera, placing his hands on it to guide it as he walks, the camera shaking chaotically.
“Listen here Max. I could give a damn about your win/loss record, I could give a damn about the fact that you’ve been spending the last half of 2021 falling flat on your face in title shots and beating up soon-to-be retirees. That you are here in this match at all! Is nothing short of a miracle. Because Max, your 2021 has been a sad passion play to a booing audience, a cascade of self-pity mixed with unearned cockiness.
But Max, all of that I could forgive. I’ve never been one to kick a man when he’s down, after all. But there’s one thing that you did, one thing that has just rubbed me the wrong way every time you talk about it, every time your pill-addled brain manages to connect the synapses long enough to produce something vaguely resembling a coherent thought?
You know what I’m talking about. It’s your biggest accomplishment of the year. Your saving grace. The one thing that kept your year from being yet another revolution in your perennial pattern of circling the drain. I’m talking about the fact that you’re the only reason why Cruiserclash isn’t holding the first ever Tokyo Cup.”
Teo snatches his Cruiserweight Tag Team Title from the table, spilling the brandy slightly as he turns violently towards the camera.
“Do you know what this is, Max? This is history! Record setting, record breaking champions! In a year where you repeatedly fell flat on your face when facing any level of real competition, I was busy main eventing night one of Evolution! This is the year that the Gents broke every single record that can be broken with this belt, and a few company records along with it! We have been more consistent, more vicious, more determined than any other champions this year, bar none!
And do you know what we hear every single time one of our records is mentioned?
‘Well that’s on Cruiserclash.’
It’s the words out of everyone’s mouth, the best way to discredit everything that we have worked for. Every name on that show has fought tooth and nail, clawed our way inch after inch, sacrificed our bodies, put everything on the line! Just to earn the respect our show deserves.
And you snatched it away, Max. You saved Clash from the embarrassment of losing to a show that every wrestler on that Clash roster has looked down on as second best. You are the reason we didn’t get to shut them up!
I wasn’t in that match, Max...And ever since that day, ever since Tokyo Cup, I have been waiting, I have been hoping that the stars would align, where I could finally right that wrong and defeating the man who took it from us!
And here you are.
Max, this anger? This fire? This isn’t about titles. This isn’t about records. This isn’t about legacy.
This is about respect. This is about you looking down at that Cruiserclash roster. A roster that just eliminated Clash’s world Champion in the first round.”
Teo sips from the glass, managing to compose himself, though the words that come from his mouth are intense, signaling a barely contained anger that could explode at any minute.
“I don’t have to attack you, Max. You do a good enough job of that yourself. You swing wildly between self-pity and self-failure. You’ve got so many personal demons that an exorcist would have to charge you by the hour, and yet there you are. Happily holding up that trophy, telling everyone that you are the saviour of Clash. Clash ill needs a saviour such as you, my friend.
Your prospects are so bleak in AW that from what I hear you’re planning an MMA fight now? At least that’s what you seem to be hinting at. You’ve fallen so far that your biggest plan is to run to another sport!
And that’s when it hit me- this is the Max Daemon pattern. You’re always chasing something, always having to find that new thing to go after. You dominated the Pure title scene in its infancy, but once you were unable to recapture that belt, you went on to chase the US title, and Kidsgrove’s golden globe award, and then Bacchus’s hardcore title. You even showed up in Cruiserhavoc for a cup of coffee until you realized how deep that small pond actually was.
And you had the gall, the cheek, the balls to present yourself as the representative of the Pure division! As though you had suddenly remembered that the title meant something to you. Johnny Bacchus was champion for months before he killed the belt, Max. Where were you then?
Let’s not mince words, the Pure Championship was a failed experiment, Max, an attempt to bring legitimacy to wrestling that was twisted into something unrecognizable by gibbering fools.
Kind of like you, Max. That’s not a bad descriptor, actually...a failed experiment. In that sense, maybe you are representative of the pure division. That’s a title that is quite apt, I’d say. You know what you are, Max? Because it’s not hard to see. Anyone with eyes probably knows it just from looking at you.
You’re a quitter, Max. That’s it. You set your eyes on something, and if you can’t get it on the first or second try? You move on to something else. There’s not an ounce of discipline in your body, not a single microbe.
You think I’ve never lost a match? Do you know how many times the Gents were humbled by the Gatecrashers? How many months we spent wondering if we’d ever be able to see these belts again? I spent nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, hearing that bell ring and the words ‘And Still!’ playing over. And over. And over!”
Teo shakes the camera particularly violently, his eyes wild behind the lenses of his glasses, the emotion almost spilling over.
“Did I give up on the team? Did I walk away from my best friend to go after singles glory? Did I let the Gatecrashers beat us?! Or did I hang on, like a bulldog to the bumper of a car, like a beartrap around their ankles, until we did what many had written off as impossible, until we were standing atop the ladders at Evolution holding these belts again?
That, Max. That is a tenacity that you will never have. That is something that you will never have the backbone to do. When Odin Balfore rolled out of your match last week? You shrugged your shoulders. You were happy to take the win.
If Odin pulled that crap with me? I’d jump out of that ring and drag his ass back. The moment I walked through that curtain I’d be screaming into the nearest camera I could find! That old, broken down sonuvabitch has the balls to walk out on a match with me? Then I’m going to his dressing room and we’re going to finish it like men!
But instead, what do we get? A resigned shrug, and silence.”
Teo inhales sharply, the quickness of his breath giving away the emotion boiling within as the fire behind him seems to glow even brighter.
“This is what I get, Max!? This is the man who I’ve been waiting for months to face, the man who took pride in keeping Cruiserclash down! The saviour of Clash’s reputation, the reason why people still look at Cruiserclash as secondary?
This is the man who called himself the greatest Pure champion of all time? This aimless, heartless, soulless drifter who couldn’t even bring himself to muster an ounce of emotion if you slapped him across the face! Who wouldn’t raise his voice if you kicked his cat, screwed his wife, and pissed in his fishtank?! This is Max Daemon!!?”
Teo whirls, hurling the glass of brandy as hard as he can into the fireplace. The glass explodes, and the instant the alcohol makes contact with the flame, it explodes out of the fireplace, the alcohol igniting and causing the flame to roar even higher, and as Teo stares, the brightness of the flame glows white hot in his eyes, and the anger, the outrage in his voice crescendos with each syllable.
“You do not deserve to be here, Max, and you know it! You know that you’re going to screw this up like you have every single step of your Action Wrestling career. You know that the only reason you’re here is because you were lucky enough to draw against a man you’d already beaten, a broken down shopworn shell of a man on the brink of retirement. Every time you look in the mirror you must realize it. You must see this coming.
You have no reason to be here. No goal, no direction. You don’t know what you want, Max. You just take any opportunity handed to you and wait for the next one to fall in your lap! You have no vision, no plan, you aren’t even sure you want to be in this sport!
It’s just like I said, Max. This is about respect. Last week, Dandy or no, I eliminated the World Champion from this tournament! Someone from the ‘secondary’ show pinned the best wrestler in the world! This is about shutting up anyone who ever doubts Cruiserclash again! About forcing the world to take notice of us! About unravelling the narrative that has been spit in our face week after week!
And once again, Max, you have the chance to be Clash’s saviour. You have the chance to stop us from embarrassing your show, to stop someone like me from making it to the semi-finals. You are Clash’s last hope?
And Max, that’s pretty goddamned sad.
Because just like every time before, you are going to fail. Max Daemon is not going to be good enough when it really counts. He’s going to come in with all the swagger in the world, hopped up on god knows what and high on his own ego, and he is going to falter.
You know it, Max.
I know it.
The world knows it.”
Teo inhales deeply, centering himself. Though the fire behind him burns as brightly, he seems to have regained control momentarily.
“Max, I’m disappointed. I didn’t want it to be this way. I didn’t want to right this wrong by beating a self-destructive, listless, apathetic, drug-addled, fairweather, shell. I don’t like kicking a man when he’s down.
But we don’t always get what we want, do we? You, who once spoke of bringing legitimacy to wrestling, who was known for his athletic ability, who believed in the pure division, had to watch it devolve into a clown show. You let it corrupt you, you let Bacchus and Zombie redefine the belt, to destroy your legacy.
You’re broken, Max. Your body, your spirit, your mind? All broken, one by one. They had to invent trophies for you to fight for because you just stopped caring about chasing any of the actual belts.
2021 is not the rise of Max Daemon.
It’s his fall.
Max, you don’t know me. You’ve probably heard my name in passing with every record the Gents broke, but you probably haven’t even given me a serious thought in the past year. You, like so many before you, have turned your back on everything we’ve been working for. You have tried to pretend that we don’t exist. You believe, like so many others, that we do not matter.
Let’s face it, Max. I’m not supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to win last week, and I’m not supposed to win this week. That’s just not what’s supposed to happen! People from Cruiserclash don’t beat World Champions, and they sure as hell don’t make the top four!”
Teo smiles, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the flames gleaming across the gold in his hand, their heat practically tangible through the lens, the intensity of the fire clear even to anyone not physically in the room. And as Teo opens his mouth to continue, the words are manic, wild, like a new energy has overtaken him.
“I say it’s time for a goddamned change! If you won’t acknowledge the respect we’ve earned, the work that Cruiserclash and the Gents have put in! If you keep holding that Tokyo Cup, that golden lie over your head as proof, then I’m going to have to pry it from your hands and smash it over your empty head! I’m going to have to beat Max Daemon so soundly, so unquestionably, that people will have no choice, no option but to take us seriously! I’m going to hit you so hard that even with that painkiller cocktail coursing through your veins, it’s still going to be the worst beating you’ve ever taken!
I am going to give every wrestler on that Clash roster no choice but to accept that we deserve to be respected! We deserve to be taken seriously!
But go ahead, go ahead and fucking underestimate me! Write me off! I dare you. I double dare you, motherfucker. Look me in the eye and ‘yeah but’ everything I’ve worked for. Shrug your shoulders and turn your back.
Look at me as just another name in your win column.
Make that fatal mistake, Max. I won’t stop you. Look past me. Look past my show, my family, my home. Tell me I’m not good enough. Believe it. Know it. Have no doubt in your mind that Teo Blaze is nothing more than a second-rate champion on a second-rate show!
Kyle Kemp believed that, didn’t he?”
Teo turns towards the fireplace, leaning over it with one arm, holding his championship with his free hand at his side as he stares into the flames. The emotion has drained from his voice, but the sound that comes is no less strong, like icy steel, devoid of distraction, as though the concept of focus itself has distilled into Teo’s words.
“I am used to people doubting me, Max. I have been written off more times than I can count, and I have heard time and time again that I have reached my ceiling. And when I walk to that ring, partner by my side, there will be others thinking that again. Even as that bell rings they’ll have counted me out.
Yet here I am.
You are not my ceiling, Max. You are a thankless, selfish prick whose stars aligned in just the right way to fall backwards into every accomplishment you’ve had. You’ve pushed away everyone around you and turned to any distraction you can hide from. Alcohol, pills, apathy, depression? You’ve even found a new sport to turn your attention to. You’re running, Max. You’re running from your inner Daemon. You will never be the man you want to be, and you know it.
And frankly, Max? I’m insulted.
I’m insulted that this is the Max Daemon that I have to put down. That this is the best that Clash can offer. But if this is what you’ve chosen? If this is what you want? Then so be it. I’m going to finally take away your last delusion. I’m going to finally invalidate that Tokyo Cup win by beating Clash’s saviour in front of the world, and I am going to make history once again.
It’s what I do.
And you? You are going to fall short. You are going to make a fatal mistake, and you are going to refuse to accept it. Maybe you’ll be attacked by that laughing fool, one clown going after another, or maybe you’ll take time off to train for that MMA debut. You will move on and try to pretend that Teo Blaze never happened.
It’s what you do.
The sooner you accept it, the sooner you realize it, the better off you’ll be. That’s how it is Max. Doubt it if you want. But the truth always comes out in the end, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not.”
With that, Teo turns, placing his championship belt over his shoulder and walking from the fireplace. As his footsteps fade, he holds up one hand, and snaps his fingers. All at once, the fireplace is quenched, and the light fades instantly as the scene fades.
Teo sits on a comfortable looking recliner, his hands steepled under his chin as he leans forward, deep in contemplation. As he leans, a bright streak of orange plays its way across the red frames over his eyes, the result of the crackling fireplace Teo stares deeply into.
“And yet here we are. One more win and I’m in the semifinals. Two more wins and I make history as the first ever Cruiserclash representative to make it to the finals of Wrestler of the Year.
So Max...was it a fluke? Was it a one-off? Is this where the miracle ends?”
Teo’s eyes wander to a small accent table near the arm of his recliner, where his half of the Cruiserweight Tag Team Titles lays neatly placed. As his eyes pass over the gold, the contemplation turns into the slightest hint of a cocky grin.
“You’d better hope so, Max. Because if you were surprised last week when I beat Kyle Kemp, Dandy or no..?
You haven’t been paying attention.”
All at once Teo leaps to his feet, the camera whirling to keep him in frame as he reaches to the mantle, where a large glass of what appears to be brandy has been placed. He begins walking towards the camera, placing his hands on it to guide it as he walks, the camera shaking chaotically.
“Listen here Max. I could give a damn about your win/loss record, I could give a damn about the fact that you’ve been spending the last half of 2021 falling flat on your face in title shots and beating up soon-to-be retirees. That you are here in this match at all! Is nothing short of a miracle. Because Max, your 2021 has been a sad passion play to a booing audience, a cascade of self-pity mixed with unearned cockiness.
But Max, all of that I could forgive. I’ve never been one to kick a man when he’s down, after all. But there’s one thing that you did, one thing that has just rubbed me the wrong way every time you talk about it, every time your pill-addled brain manages to connect the synapses long enough to produce something vaguely resembling a coherent thought?
You know what I’m talking about. It’s your biggest accomplishment of the year. Your saving grace. The one thing that kept your year from being yet another revolution in your perennial pattern of circling the drain. I’m talking about the fact that you’re the only reason why Cruiserclash isn’t holding the first ever Tokyo Cup.”
Teo snatches his Cruiserweight Tag Team Title from the table, spilling the brandy slightly as he turns violently towards the camera.
“Do you know what this is, Max? This is history! Record setting, record breaking champions! In a year where you repeatedly fell flat on your face when facing any level of real competition, I was busy main eventing night one of Evolution! This is the year that the Gents broke every single record that can be broken with this belt, and a few company records along with it! We have been more consistent, more vicious, more determined than any other champions this year, bar none!
And do you know what we hear every single time one of our records is mentioned?
‘Well that’s on Cruiserclash.’
It’s the words out of everyone’s mouth, the best way to discredit everything that we have worked for. Every name on that show has fought tooth and nail, clawed our way inch after inch, sacrificed our bodies, put everything on the line! Just to earn the respect our show deserves.
And you snatched it away, Max. You saved Clash from the embarrassment of losing to a show that every wrestler on that Clash roster has looked down on as second best. You are the reason we didn’t get to shut them up!
I wasn’t in that match, Max...And ever since that day, ever since Tokyo Cup, I have been waiting, I have been hoping that the stars would align, where I could finally right that wrong and defeating the man who took it from us!
And here you are.
Max, this anger? This fire? This isn’t about titles. This isn’t about records. This isn’t about legacy.
This is about respect. This is about you looking down at that Cruiserclash roster. A roster that just eliminated Clash’s world Champion in the first round.”
Teo sips from the glass, managing to compose himself, though the words that come from his mouth are intense, signaling a barely contained anger that could explode at any minute.
“I don’t have to attack you, Max. You do a good enough job of that yourself. You swing wildly between self-pity and self-failure. You’ve got so many personal demons that an exorcist would have to charge you by the hour, and yet there you are. Happily holding up that trophy, telling everyone that you are the saviour of Clash. Clash ill needs a saviour such as you, my friend.
Your prospects are so bleak in AW that from what I hear you’re planning an MMA fight now? At least that’s what you seem to be hinting at. You’ve fallen so far that your biggest plan is to run to another sport!
And that’s when it hit me- this is the Max Daemon pattern. You’re always chasing something, always having to find that new thing to go after. You dominated the Pure title scene in its infancy, but once you were unable to recapture that belt, you went on to chase the US title, and Kidsgrove’s golden globe award, and then Bacchus’s hardcore title. You even showed up in Cruiserhavoc for a cup of coffee until you realized how deep that small pond actually was.
And you had the gall, the cheek, the balls to present yourself as the representative of the Pure division! As though you had suddenly remembered that the title meant something to you. Johnny Bacchus was champion for months before he killed the belt, Max. Where were you then?
Let’s not mince words, the Pure Championship was a failed experiment, Max, an attempt to bring legitimacy to wrestling that was twisted into something unrecognizable by gibbering fools.
Kind of like you, Max. That’s not a bad descriptor, actually...a failed experiment. In that sense, maybe you are representative of the pure division. That’s a title that is quite apt, I’d say. You know what you are, Max? Because it’s not hard to see. Anyone with eyes probably knows it just from looking at you.
You’re a quitter, Max. That’s it. You set your eyes on something, and if you can’t get it on the first or second try? You move on to something else. There’s not an ounce of discipline in your body, not a single microbe.
You think I’ve never lost a match? Do you know how many times the Gents were humbled by the Gatecrashers? How many months we spent wondering if we’d ever be able to see these belts again? I spent nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, hearing that bell ring and the words ‘And Still!’ playing over. And over. And over!”
Teo shakes the camera particularly violently, his eyes wild behind the lenses of his glasses, the emotion almost spilling over.
“Did I give up on the team? Did I walk away from my best friend to go after singles glory? Did I let the Gatecrashers beat us?! Or did I hang on, like a bulldog to the bumper of a car, like a beartrap around their ankles, until we did what many had written off as impossible, until we were standing atop the ladders at Evolution holding these belts again?
That, Max. That is a tenacity that you will never have. That is something that you will never have the backbone to do. When Odin Balfore rolled out of your match last week? You shrugged your shoulders. You were happy to take the win.
If Odin pulled that crap with me? I’d jump out of that ring and drag his ass back. The moment I walked through that curtain I’d be screaming into the nearest camera I could find! That old, broken down sonuvabitch has the balls to walk out on a match with me? Then I’m going to his dressing room and we’re going to finish it like men!
But instead, what do we get? A resigned shrug, and silence.”
Teo inhales sharply, the quickness of his breath giving away the emotion boiling within as the fire behind him seems to glow even brighter.
“This is what I get, Max!? This is the man who I’ve been waiting for months to face, the man who took pride in keeping Cruiserclash down! The saviour of Clash’s reputation, the reason why people still look at Cruiserclash as secondary?
This is the man who called himself the greatest Pure champion of all time? This aimless, heartless, soulless drifter who couldn’t even bring himself to muster an ounce of emotion if you slapped him across the face! Who wouldn’t raise his voice if you kicked his cat, screwed his wife, and pissed in his fishtank?! This is Max Daemon!!?”
Teo whirls, hurling the glass of brandy as hard as he can into the fireplace. The glass explodes, and the instant the alcohol makes contact with the flame, it explodes out of the fireplace, the alcohol igniting and causing the flame to roar even higher, and as Teo stares, the brightness of the flame glows white hot in his eyes, and the anger, the outrage in his voice crescendos with each syllable.
“You do not deserve to be here, Max, and you know it! You know that you’re going to screw this up like you have every single step of your Action Wrestling career. You know that the only reason you’re here is because you were lucky enough to draw against a man you’d already beaten, a broken down shopworn shell of a man on the brink of retirement. Every time you look in the mirror you must realize it. You must see this coming.
You have no reason to be here. No goal, no direction. You don’t know what you want, Max. You just take any opportunity handed to you and wait for the next one to fall in your lap! You have no vision, no plan, you aren’t even sure you want to be in this sport!
It’s just like I said, Max. This is about respect. Last week, Dandy or no, I eliminated the World Champion from this tournament! Someone from the ‘secondary’ show pinned the best wrestler in the world! This is about shutting up anyone who ever doubts Cruiserclash again! About forcing the world to take notice of us! About unravelling the narrative that has been spit in our face week after week!
And once again, Max, you have the chance to be Clash’s saviour. You have the chance to stop us from embarrassing your show, to stop someone like me from making it to the semi-finals. You are Clash’s last hope?
And Max, that’s pretty goddamned sad.
Because just like every time before, you are going to fail. Max Daemon is not going to be good enough when it really counts. He’s going to come in with all the swagger in the world, hopped up on god knows what and high on his own ego, and he is going to falter.
You know it, Max.
I know it.
The world knows it.”
Teo inhales deeply, centering himself. Though the fire behind him burns as brightly, he seems to have regained control momentarily.
“Max, I’m disappointed. I didn’t want it to be this way. I didn’t want to right this wrong by beating a self-destructive, listless, apathetic, drug-addled, fairweather, shell. I don’t like kicking a man when he’s down.
But we don’t always get what we want, do we? You, who once spoke of bringing legitimacy to wrestling, who was known for his athletic ability, who believed in the pure division, had to watch it devolve into a clown show. You let it corrupt you, you let Bacchus and Zombie redefine the belt, to destroy your legacy.
You’re broken, Max. Your body, your spirit, your mind? All broken, one by one. They had to invent trophies for you to fight for because you just stopped caring about chasing any of the actual belts.
2021 is not the rise of Max Daemon.
It’s his fall.
Max, you don’t know me. You’ve probably heard my name in passing with every record the Gents broke, but you probably haven’t even given me a serious thought in the past year. You, like so many before you, have turned your back on everything we’ve been working for. You have tried to pretend that we don’t exist. You believe, like so many others, that we do not matter.
Let’s face it, Max. I’m not supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to win last week, and I’m not supposed to win this week. That’s just not what’s supposed to happen! People from Cruiserclash don’t beat World Champions, and they sure as hell don’t make the top four!”
Teo smiles, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the flames gleaming across the gold in his hand, their heat practically tangible through the lens, the intensity of the fire clear even to anyone not physically in the room. And as Teo opens his mouth to continue, the words are manic, wild, like a new energy has overtaken him.
“I say it’s time for a goddamned change! If you won’t acknowledge the respect we’ve earned, the work that Cruiserclash and the Gents have put in! If you keep holding that Tokyo Cup, that golden lie over your head as proof, then I’m going to have to pry it from your hands and smash it over your empty head! I’m going to have to beat Max Daemon so soundly, so unquestionably, that people will have no choice, no option but to take us seriously! I’m going to hit you so hard that even with that painkiller cocktail coursing through your veins, it’s still going to be the worst beating you’ve ever taken!
I am going to give every wrestler on that Clash roster no choice but to accept that we deserve to be respected! We deserve to be taken seriously!
But go ahead, go ahead and fucking underestimate me! Write me off! I dare you. I double dare you, motherfucker. Look me in the eye and ‘yeah but’ everything I’ve worked for. Shrug your shoulders and turn your back.
Look at me as just another name in your win column.
Make that fatal mistake, Max. I won’t stop you. Look past me. Look past my show, my family, my home. Tell me I’m not good enough. Believe it. Know it. Have no doubt in your mind that Teo Blaze is nothing more than a second-rate champion on a second-rate show!
Kyle Kemp believed that, didn’t he?”
Teo turns towards the fireplace, leaning over it with one arm, holding his championship with his free hand at his side as he stares into the flames. The emotion has drained from his voice, but the sound that comes is no less strong, like icy steel, devoid of distraction, as though the concept of focus itself has distilled into Teo’s words.
“I am used to people doubting me, Max. I have been written off more times than I can count, and I have heard time and time again that I have reached my ceiling. And when I walk to that ring, partner by my side, there will be others thinking that again. Even as that bell rings they’ll have counted me out.
Yet here I am.
You are not my ceiling, Max. You are a thankless, selfish prick whose stars aligned in just the right way to fall backwards into every accomplishment you’ve had. You’ve pushed away everyone around you and turned to any distraction you can hide from. Alcohol, pills, apathy, depression? You’ve even found a new sport to turn your attention to. You’re running, Max. You’re running from your inner Daemon. You will never be the man you want to be, and you know it.
And frankly, Max? I’m insulted.
I’m insulted that this is the Max Daemon that I have to put down. That this is the best that Clash can offer. But if this is what you’ve chosen? If this is what you want? Then so be it. I’m going to finally take away your last delusion. I’m going to finally invalidate that Tokyo Cup win by beating Clash’s saviour in front of the world, and I am going to make history once again.
It’s what I do.
And you? You are going to fall short. You are going to make a fatal mistake, and you are going to refuse to accept it. Maybe you’ll be attacked by that laughing fool, one clown going after another, or maybe you’ll take time off to train for that MMA debut. You will move on and try to pretend that Teo Blaze never happened.
It’s what you do.
The sooner you accept it, the sooner you realize it, the better off you’ll be. That’s how it is Max. Doubt it if you want. But the truth always comes out in the end, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not.”
With that, Teo turns, placing his championship belt over his shoulder and walking from the fireplace. As his footsteps fade, he holds up one hand, and snaps his fingers. All at once, the fireplace is quenched, and the light fades instantly as the scene fades.