Post by Carter Shaw on Dec 3, 2021 11:16:50 GMT -5
The whole point of Turmoil is to crown the Wrestler Of The Year, but it’s a bit of a farce in the end, isn’t it? When the names that have defined Action Wrestling over the course of 2021 aren’t in that particular mix? Sure, I had my crack at it, we all did. But when all of you watched CARTER SHAW beat legend after legend, stand tall as your new World Champion at the end of Evolution, beat Spencer Adams back into depression, beat Corey Black back into desperation, beat Ash Blake back into being a terrible leader...
Do you really think Downfall or Regan Voorhees then get to stand there come Sunday and claim 2021 as theirs? That’s the kinda crown you get with a soggy cheeseburger at Burger King, and they fuckin’ know it. I’m not envious of their position, all they’re fighting for is a subpar bragging right, and why?
It’ll seem sub par by the time it comes around to the victor, because on the night I will have already become TWO-TIME AW World Champion, and I will have already taken...back...what’s...mine. Who’s gonna take it from me? Dandy?
I guess he did once, right?
10 seconds of glory earned in the most pathetic of ways. Had Kemp not cashed in his All-In, Dandy’s reign would have felt just as shoulder-shrug as Kemp’s does. How you earn your way will always speak volumes louder than the achievement you may get to claim in the end. I know that. Growing up on the streets of Boston? Fighting tooth and nail for every dollar and cent for me AND my family? Yeah, I fucking know that. Not something Dandy ever had to do in his life, as we’ve well established.
Problem with that, on his end, is self-perception. Dandy’s strategy over the past two years has gotten him to this point, so atleast in that sense, it’s admirable. You wait for any discussion at all revolving the prestigious AW World Championship, and you pop your head out like a fuckin’ mole lookin’ to get whacked again. The more you stand around the point of discussion, the more you become a part of the discussion.
Simple as that. That’s the only reason Dandy DiVito ever GOT the fuckin’ shot at MY World Title anyways, after a year of being the mole that I whacked back down over and over again, like I was goin’ for the high score. Well, that, and the fact that Jill Park gift-wrapped it to him over Kemp.
Look at how all of that played out, huh?
Dandy’s like the crackhouse dog that nobody claims ownership of. He’s always around because this is atleast where he ends up getting fed. Tag Titles, sure. Ride that wave for a year and see how forgettable it is once you burn each and every ‘partnership’ bridge you ever walked on.
I fucking hate Dandy. It outshines any disdain I have for Kyle Kemp. The part I got to play in the undoing of The Following? I think I really just wanted more walls to fall out from something Dandy considered shelter. We all know he would’ve found a way to make it crash and burn himself anyways, but boy was it a learning experience to see just how easy it was to unravel the Dandy string from around Kemp’s fingers.
But there is one moment that will come this Sunday. There will be one highlight moment of Turmoil that will undoubtedly happen in this match. It’ll be Shaw and Dandy, throwing jabs and haymakers as always, and Dandy will catch me right in the brow with one. And I’m gonna pop a squat on the canvas, reach up and feel the bit of blood starting to trickle…
And in that moment…
Dandy will see the look in my eyes and he’ll remember that this ain’t a blood feud that ends at blood. He’ll know just how feeble that victory moment was at Execution when we were in the exact same predicament...and when no bell rings? And no victory is awarded to Dandy for catching a solid punch? And when I get to stand back up? a man who has spilled gallons of blood in order to accomplish what I came to accomplish…
The look in Dandy’s eyes will be your highlight. When I get to come back at him like a fuckin’ tank and show him what blood rage does to a hungry dog...You’ll see that realization wash over him, that fear that he thought he was able to put behind him on the record book.
In that very moment, we’ll know that this statement still rings true. Truer than ever.
Death.
Taxes.
Shaw Beats Dandy.
Guarantees.
And we’ll just go right ahead and wash ourselves clean of that victory at Execution quicker than Kemp did.
I’ll smile crimson at ya, Dandy, and then fuckin’ bury you back in the hole you keep crawling out of. And it’ll be back to that old familiar drawing board for you, only this time you’ll smarten up a bit. Because as I begin my 2nd reign and go on as if I was never rudely interrupted from the 1st, you’ll strategize something to the effect of…
“Hm, maybe I’ll come on out the next time the United States Championship is mentioned. That’ll do it.”
Atleast you get to call yourself a 2-time champ, have fun hanging yourself on that accolade.
You’d be better off using Daddy’s money to pay Action Wrestling to strike that from the record altogether.
You’re more of a parasite then Jill Park is, but atleast she manages to come off as charismatic. You left your charisma somewhere back in 2019 when your antics were atleast still cute.
Carter Shaw stood over the final drips of coffee landing in his mug, his aimless gaze interrupted by a knock on the door; 5 gentle taps. The paranoia settled back in, his immediate movement not being towards the door, but rather the closed shades in the living room. Peering out through a crease, there stood a man Shaw did not recognize. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
He never knew if or when blow back from the Philidor fallout would come to his doorstep. He glanced at the baseball bat resting beside the door before spinning the lock counter-clockwise and facing the shorter visitor. The cold Boston breeze slapped him in the face, an even more effective wake up method than the cup of coffee was about to be.
“Mr. Carter Shaw?”
“Who’s askin’?”
“I’ve been sent to serve you your one week notice, sir. We’ll begin showings next week on Tuesday and the inspection will be on Monday to make sure you’ve kept your end of the bargain.”
Shaw’s eyes looked past the man, out to the still sidewalk at the edge of his lawn.
“I’m not sure I follow, you sure you have the right house?”
“You’re Carter Shaw, aren’t you?”
“Yes…”
“I absolutely have the right house.”
The man opens up a folder that he’s had cupped in his elbow, carefully thumbing through a few papers to make sure nothing catches a breeze for escape. Shaw looks down at the papers, confused and immediately sees far-too-familiar letterheads amongst them. He looks over his shoulder into his own house, eyebrows drawn down in confusion and distrust.
“Sir, your one week notice is part of the housing agreement you signed back in November of 2020, part of the Eviction Agreement. Your housing is at will, sir, you...you signed this contract.”
The man notices the gaze in the blue eyes across from him, as he clearly thought he was delivering known news. Shaw connects some puzzle pieces in his mind. Of the Philidor variety. His head drops, closing his eyes for a moment of defeat.
“One week notice, huh?”
“Yes sir.”
“I assume my name isn’t listed as the owner of the property, is it?”
“No sir.”
“May I ask whose is?”
The man goes back to the top paper in the folder and traces the top of it with his index finger.
“P.H. L.L.C.”
Shaw clenches a fist that he lets rest on the wooden door frame. The one he had just painted a month ago.
“And my mortgage payments I’ve been making to First Class Bank?”
Each question he asked felt like sticking a shovel a little further into the dirt. The man scanned down another document in his hand.
“It appears First Class is a subsidiary Property Management company of Philidor Holdings…?”
Shaw had been paying rent the entire time. He pursed his lips. In this moment, his brain could explode out of his ears and his final thought would be ‘atleast they’d have to clean it up’.
“I’m sorry if you were not aware of this, Mr. Shaw, but-”
“I signed, I know. I know.” His voice trailed off. The man on the doorstep went to speak more, but Shaw took a slow step back and shut the door as an end quote.
His eyes roamed the walls; particular shelving recreated to look like mom’s. He reached up and began fidgeting with the necklace he wore, made of the one surviving trinket from the fire that had taken this house down once already.
He never knew if or when blow back from the Philidor fallout would come to his doorstep. Turns out, it’s not even his doorstep.
While things have certainly boiled down to the personal level between Dandy and I, things between Kyle Kemp and I have always danced around that business level of things. You can point at the fallen pillars of Philidor all you want, but you can’t deny that I became damn good at my role in it all. And if there’s anyone on this planet that should see that and respect that, it’s you Kemp.
When we went tit for tat earlier in the year, it was quite the peculiar circumstance. We knew what the other was trying to do. Your invites and attempted selling of The Following to me was never a genuine interest. It was a classic Kyle Kemp powerplay, a blunt reminder that you had something to invite someone to. A refurbishing of the faded fact that you were a leader.
And my invites to help relieve some of the financial stress with a little Philidor support? Well, I think you knew I didn’t really have the power in the first place to offer such a thing. Or did I? In the end, we were nothing but two in a tango.
Now.
Here’s where we differed.
And here’s where Carter Shaw outsmarted Kyle Kemp, one of my finest achievements.
I made sure that your buddies, or atleast the closest breath to the back of your neck, thought you were serious. And that boiled down to instinct. My instinct was that you weren’t the best communicator when it came to actually being a leader. My instinct was that Dandy has some serious daddy issues. My instinct was that a part of you, despite the business tactic, actually wondered what it would be like to have Carter Shaw in your midst. Right? There was just enough of a genuinity layer there to reel in the Following boys almost instantly.
And then. As I said all summer long.
All it took was for me to just exist. A well-timed conversation here, a side-mention there. It became the equivalent of Dandy DiVito peering over your shoulder while you tried to stealth through my Instagram page. CJ Phoenix just standing in the background shrugging his shoulders because he thought we were all cool.
Then you went on to become Mr. All-In, putting to temporary rest the relentless talk of how you couldn’t bust through that ceiling of mediocrity when push came to shove. Yet, here you are. Having successfully shoved your way into holding the AW World Championship. But has anyone honestly referred to Kyle Kemp as the AW World Champion? Or is it more like he’s just holding it?
You’re a fuckin’ coat rack, Kemp.
4th time’s the charm for the ole Kemp blueprint and the three people to thank for the current creation are about to all be in the ring with him at the same time at Turmoil. I showed him what it was actually like to be out-smarted, crumbling the walls around the ‘empire’ once and for all. I showed him what it was like to have someone else get inside Kemp’s head and use it as a playground. And Jill Park? Jill Park, through the attempt of making an impact, actually propped Kemp up in doing so. Each time she got to lay him the fuck out, it ironically kept him moving forward despite the mountain of ashes behind him.
Because we all know no-one beats Kyle Kemp quite like Kyle Kemp beats Kyle Kemp. And Jill inadvertently saved him from that.
But now Kemp’s gone bankrupt on the belief that getting the World Title in his possession would equate to an increase in respect from his peers. And when he loses it this Sunday in the first defense and the gold comes back home, he’ll still wonder why he isn’t respected more as a man whose name resides in that illustrious title history. Remember what I did with the All-In briefcase? How I handled it over the course of the months I held it? It became a power play better than anything you could ever cook up, Kyle. And when I cashed it in? A fuckin Kemp wet dream, the way I toyed with everything around while ALSO earning the respect every step of the way.
You expected respect, Kemp? You did it wrong, and I told you you were going to. It’s time to stop trying to be Carter Shaw 2.0 on the year and give up on breaking through the elements that make you you.
Smart, not brilliant.
Witty, not clever.
Good, not great.
Try beating Spencer Adams three goddamn times and Corey Black twice in World Title matches throughout the year, and then watch and listen while someone asks “Who’s the best AW has to offer?” ...and the fuckin’ first names out of people’s mouths are Spencer Adams and Corey Black. That’s what it’s like to not receive the respect you’ve earned. You haven’t done shit to be respected alongside that gold, and surviving Turmoil will be the only way you take a single step in that direction. But that ain’t happening. I’ll show you the fuckin’ respect of making sure you’re eliminated first so that you can have your next blueprint mapped up by the time I finish with Dandy and Jill.
Maybe give Wesley a call and ask him where it all went wrong.
And then figure out another way to try and
Be
Me
“It’s a different kind of darkness, Garvey. I haven’t seen Saltair, I don’t feel him. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Shaw asked quietly.
“It’s not as simple as ‘at,” Garvey answered.
“Everything I know, everything I’ve seen. Hell, everything you’ve shown me. Why am I still alive? How can that just...go away? What if I told everyone?”
“Told ‘em wut?”
“Told them...uh…”
“‘Zactly. And e’en if you found the words, Shaw?”
The big man leaned in and gave Shaw a friendly palm on the shoulder.
“No’un wud belie’ya”
“How does it all just go away? All from a wrestling company? Philidor is in everything!”
“It doesn’t go uh’way, Shaw. It just goes uh’way from you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do I need to explain an 'oiceburg to ya’, Shaw?”
The star of the show is being glossed over to this point, and as much as that may infuriate Jill Park, it’s the perfect spot to be. I spent all year being the underdog. I spent all year being hated for being under the Philidor umbrella. I spent all goddamn year hearing the pundits say I was punching above my weight class, even after my 4th or 5th successful World Title defense.
Enter Jill Park. The dark horse that’s been euthanizing names of value throughout that same time period. The internet thought we made one hell of a tag team last Monday Night on Clash, and why wouldn’t they? The talent is undeniable and our little exchange of words was high quality television, and you haven’t been vindicated quite like this since your AW dawning day.
2020 Rookie Of The Year, Carter Shaw.
2021 Rookie Of The Year, Jill Park.
You know that’s how this is gonna play out, and it’s exactly what AW needs to finally put the resting staples in the place they deserve to be in. And between the murderer’s row of names I’ve defeated this year alone and the legacy-holding names you’ve layed out time and time again...this is how you weed out the Dandy-lion and Kyle Kemp thistle.
You’re an obnoxious, cold-hearted primadonna but you’ve picked your spots wisely, in a manner that would make both Kemp and myself blush. You keep that tenacity up and you’ll have your moment.
It just won’t be at my expense.
Let’s face facts, you’ve figured out how to make that undeniable impact outside of the ring, being the true snake in the grass that I’ve been called, but when it comes to everything inside that ring? When the time comes to back up those words, to enforce those actions? You’re not there yet. The upcoming months are where Jill Park manages to truly define herself, because she is now AS FAR as that tenacity will get her. This is it, Jill. You get to dance with the devils, you get to dogfight with the top breeds. But you don’t get past this point Frankle Locking someone you just clocked from behind in mid-sentence. You don’t get past this point by revenge-attacking someone you just lost to on a Pay Per View.
You get to this point, but it doesn’t get you past it. Unless this is as far as your ambition takes you. If this is all you wanted for a solid episode of License To Jill, then job well done.
If you wanted to be in the room with the big names, here you are. But it doesn’t automatically make you one of the big names. And nobody’s gonna watch your episode anyways because, like I said…
Joanie Loves Chachi.
You know what you are at this stage, Ms. Park?
You’re a Batting Average champ stepping into a Home Run Derby.
We can call Kemp Secretariat, the way you rode him into this title opportunity. A chokehold lookin’ alot more like a piggyback ride.
And I suggest you take that as the victory, because there’s no way in hell that 2021, the year of Shaw, is gonna go into 2022 with ILL Jill Park holding that AW World Championship.
And when the moment gets real? And in the middle of the biggest match of our lives, when I’ve laid Dandy to waste and you’ve done the same to Kemp? We go nose to nose, and I’m not gonna tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done with your time here. No, I’m gonna school you on why I had already soundly defeated many of the legacies that you decided to try and hit with that final torching. Why there’s no stepping stones left for me to hop on because I’ve claimed every single one of them as beaten territory.
Your biggest weakness in this match, Park? Is that you’ve never competed against people with this much at stake. You’ve yet to lock that Frankle Lock in on someone who would rather hear the snap then tap. You’ve never been against so much spirit and desperation, that you get kicked out on when you would’ve bet the bank account you had the match won then and there. Four way elimination match? Carter Shaw Vs Dandy DiVito Vs Jill Park Vs Kyle Kemp? Here’s the only breakdown you need.
Dandy DiVito gets far too distracted by his own temper, his need to ‘avenge’ is like a heat-seeking missile that forgets that he’s still in a match he wanted to win.
Kyle Kemp’s punches weaken over the course of a match, every time, because he sat in a fuckin’ office at the Following compound while CJ Phoenix put in the cardio, as if his hard work was transmitted to the rest of ‘em.
And Jill? You’ll do just fine until you hit that moment where you think you have it all right in front of you. 3 seconds away from that glorious World Championship. And it fails. Because Dandy won’t lay down to better invest in the future. Because Kyle Kemp finally has something to fight for. And me? Play the Philidor puppet tune all you want, but as the world around me has crashed and burned, one fact remains, looming larger than ever.
I
Have
Nothing
To
Lose.
And it’s in that moment of unbridled frustration that the hot girl takes a shit.
Just like at Evolution . Just like at Uprising. Tokyo Fite. XIII.
I will be the last fucking man standing, and I will continue my reign as YOUR AW World Champion, as it should have been in the first place. Dandy? Kemp? They’re gonna go down in history as nothing more than a commercial break in the title reigns of Carter Shaw. And Jill Park? What she ends up ‘going down as’ will be entirely up to her.
Get ready for that familiar scene once again when I raise that gold above my head for your Turmoil posterization and close out the Year Of Shaw doing so.
And I’ll be sure to do a little celebratory jig.
Just to dance on the graves of your chances.
The New York City streets, it appeared that Shaw would never sit on this particular bench again. He looked across the busy street at what was the Philidor Holdings HQ he’d come to know. Having just done a walk around the building, even the doorway he had been taken into when Garvey took him into the belly of the beast was gone. Just a wall, as if the door never even existed. As if it were all a fever dream, none of it made any sense.
How does a headquarters just vanish. The building stored nothing but the evil Shaw knew came from below it. Otherwise, it awaited another corporate entity to try and use New York City to its money-hungry benefit.
Shaw simply sat. Elbows on his knees, hands to his chin. Philidor had given him life. Something to fight for, something to be a part of. They had given him a brand, a motivation. The office that Shaw had visited many times to meet with Vice President J. Howard deWitt was just a shell acting as if it never held anything at all.
He felt such purpose in that office. That he had found something other than fighting that he could be good at, even if it was the equivalent of being a new dog on a leash.
His friendship with Lissie Hope, that he valued very much in a world where he didn’t have many friends, was on the rocks. He never intentionally lied to her, atleast he didn’t think he did. But he understand where she was coming from. And that hurt. Because the cage from which she feels like she broke out from, was the basket Shaw put all his eggs in.
Like an infection riding the wave of your bloodstream
Philidor found its way into every fiber of Shaw’s being.
And there he sat.
With nothing.