One More To Be Thankful For. (3,374 words)
Dec 3, 2021 23:31:48 GMT -5
CJ Phoenix, Max f'n Daemon, and 2 more like this
Post by The Vanguard on Dec 3, 2021 23:31:48 GMT -5
Hello, Dangerous Gentlemen.
My name is Dionysus Albert Necurat. You can call me Dionysus.
I'm twenty-nine years old, stand six-foot-five and weigh roughly two-hundred and seventy pounds. My blood type is O negative.
...See, you're probably wondering why I'm introducing myself to you guys. We've had a match together. Hell, I've had two with Crowley. And yet I still need to make introductions. Seems awfully strange, doesn't it? Your second biggest match as a team in Action Wrestling, and you still seem to be forgetting something.
Let me explain a thing or two about how this division works. Its a team-based division, usually with two people.
Two people.
Twoooooooooooooo.
Getting it through now?
Man, for a team that considers themselves "legit competition that we need," you seem to have a hard time grasping that concept, huh?
Sure, Downfall has poked the bear...for whatever reason. Even with our level of trust, there are times that I can't really tell why he does what he does. But that isn't really relevant to the task at hand, isn't it? No, this is basically about how your focus has been on half The Vanguard and not the whole. And see, this is why a team like yours is doomed to fail from the get-go.
I've explained this before, but the moniker "The Man Action Wrestling Forgot" is intentional. You weren't supposed to actually forget the other tag team champion, on multiple occasions, all while intending to show that you're the apex competition in this division. Let me be blunt, because I doubt anything else would actually sink in for you. if you cannot focus on the whole team, you're doomed to fail. The Vanguard isn't any one person. It is a team, conceived from the mind of a competitor that considers himself the standard bearer of this company. Anyone who wants to prove themselves will need to go through us first. It isn't anything so arrogant as saying "you can take this title from my cold, dead hands," because the goal here is not solely the titles.
It is about prestige.
It is about building this division.
It is all about a restoration that can convincingly rival that of the Cruiserclash tag division, to be in the same conversation as Two Gents or Red White and Bruised.
And since day one of our formation, The Vanguard has lived up to our namesake's definition. We lead the charge, we set the pace, form the foundation. And we do this by competing against all comers, regardless of the stipulation. Let me remind you that while you assume our attention is focused elsewhere from this division, we not only helped topple one of the biggest threats to Action Wrestling, but we did it on a night where we also defended these titles. These coveted belts you want so badly.
As explained before, having the benefit of dragging a match out until time expires is simply one strategy we implemented. Nothing devious, nothing evil; just a play out of the playbook that maybe wasn't considered. Think of it like this; we can still compete with you for at least thirty minutes. We still had plenty left in the tank to go over that time limit. We could also consider using the same strategy again this time around. Give an unsatisfying finish to your second challenge, watch your frustrations mount and see you two grow further and further apart.
...
But ask yourself; how would that help the division?
While we have proclaimed ourselves to be the architects behind the restoration of the tag division, I personally won't claim that we are the only ones that will make this reconstruction happen. You've been very vocal about your disappointment in this division, that the competition is next to non-existent and that you are the only true challenge we have. And I simply have one response to that:
Talk is cheap.
Time for the true test.
No time limit is going to help us this time. We won't hold back (not that we did the last time, but I anticipate you were probably thinking that too). Don't even think anything outside this contest will affect the outcome. And don't think for one moment that Downfall is the only one you should be concerned with.
Come Turmoil, I, Dionysus, will give you a proper introduction...
...And remind you what being a team is all about.
The two of them trudged in out of the cold, removing their coats and handing them to the attendant. "You know, we could have met at a Denny's off the interstate, instead of this opulent shit," Danny snarked. He gestured around him, to the hotel's banquet hall. It was milling with dozens of people.
It was a fancy, black tie affair, and most of the Necurat Corporation employees were chatting amiably. As ever, he felt out of place, though matching in his newly-slicked black(ish) hair and wearing his black silk dress-shirt and vest. "I must say, Daniel," Dion grinned, "you cut a dashing figure like this."
He looked over to Michelle, joking, "If we could just get him to clean up like this, I could take him to board meetings."
Michelle smiled, politely, and overemphasized her words as she squeezed Dion's bicep. "Thank you so much for inviting us tonight, Dion."
"I've been wanting to talk to you about the charity event we're running next month, we have the loveliest string quintet coming to entertain the guests and I wanted your thoughts on the dinner menu."
"Shoot me an email, I'll be able to squeeze you in between clients," she said, then she looked over her shoulder at Danny. "If you boys will excuse me, uh, I'm gonna snag a champagne flute and schmooze." And she parted from Danny, eyeing him again.
Dion raised his eyebrows as he stood next to his partner. "Frosty reception."
He was bone-tired, he had already endured one awkward dinner ruminating over vegan options, turkey livers and being interview-grilled by Alec's bored housewife. And he had a million anxious worries on his mind, and a million more dark, brooding spots on his heart. He didn't feel like rehashing his and Michelle's woes with Dion. "Things're... weird."
"So, talk to me, man. Why it is that you're here, dour and mournful on a day when we're celebrating a banner year for both of us." He plucked at Danny's silk vest. "Dressed like a Dangerous Gent, too..."
Danny and Dion left the company party behind, walking to a side hallway. "Look, Daniel, I know we've been a little off-track this month..."
Danny grunted, irritably and shrugged, "I knew what I was getting us into, and I stand by it. I always want to prove myself, and I've-"
"Let me finish. And I know that you've had your reasons for being the way you are. I get that you aren't always going to have the same outlook that I do, and you have a history of being more ruthless than anyone."
Danny looked off from him, grimacing. "I won't apologize for -"
"I'm not asking you to apologize. I'm asking for us to get on the same page. We both want the same things, to be the best, to prove ourselves. Why do you think I've been so busy elsewhere? Your example lit a fire under me, and I've taken that out into the world. But the shady side, the ego, the attacking people from behind, that can't happen."
Danny chewed that over, then blinked. "I did go full aggro asshole on them, didn't I."
"More than a little. And if you're annoyed or pissed off or tapping into your dark side because they remind you of yourself at a different stage in your life, that's valid, but..."
"Dion, it's more than that, it's..." He leaned against the wall, arms folded. "It's realizing through all of this, that maybe tapping into my 'dark side', is what's bringing me success. In being ruthless. In not giving a fuck about my opponent's safety. Maybe this is just me. Maybe I'm a piece of shit, and you should run from me, too."
His voice is growing more bitter, more pensive. "Maybe I've thought all along that when I'm at my worst, it is more effective... exactly what I told Johnny. It's a heavy thing to ask myself, but... maybe I was a fool to think after Havoc, after coming together, that I was a changed man or I was making things better."
Dion listened, blinking, and nodded. Finally, he said, "Daniel, get your head out of your ass."
Danny's eyes whipped upwards.
"You haven't gotten better? Daniel, you are here, alive, when last year's Christmas you contemplated a bridge. You have had the most successful run of anyone I've known, AND, for the first time in your life, you've formed a partnership, a reciprocal bond with someone you trusted."
"I did..."
"Yes, you've been meaner, you've been nastier, and that's brought you success - in your field. But you've also been honest with your emotions, and ready to be someone genuine. If you are having any problems with Michelle, you can tell her that, and it'll be true."
"But as far as you and me go? Dan... I'm thankful for this year, because it brought us together, and I wouldn't walk away from this team if my life depended on it."
"Dion..." he said, then his eyebrows knit together. "Thanks."
Maybe what Alec said, about the aura of these holidays being solemn because it amounted to the reflections on sorrows of an entire year's choices was accurate but not whole. Maybe, being mindful of this year, also meant taking in being thankful for what you had all along, if you just thought about it.
He followed Dion back into the banquet hall, lighter in spirit. Dion, grinning broadly, turned to his employees.
"My friends, dinner is about to be served."
A waiter brought out a huge, elaborate silver serving tray, and removed the lid.
Danny groaned. "Dion, you fucking didn't."
Dion's smile widened as he indicated the huge trough of tortilla chips and a bowl of dip in the middle. One last time for the year. "I had to, it's the spirit of giving thanks."
Sorry, it took me so long to return your calls, Hector and Robbie, my schedule's been a little bit hectic the last few weeks.
Took a couple weeks off to beat the bricks off of some Philidor die-hards, and now I've found myself talking just like a corporate stooge... even if it's just in an effort to bring a new form of trash-talk that isn't you claiming we've let the Tag division go to shit.
I've had to listen to your continuing little shots against me on an uneven basis since Execution, and been unable to respond to it since I've been taking part in the WOTY tournament and having to concentrate on taking on competition that afforded me actually challenging dialogue; they were the ones that pressured me to fight my hardest, level my game up to where I really felt like I was competing on the main event level.
You've not engaged me on that level of critical thought.
If I had to distill my feelings about you down to their essence, it'd fall somewhere between endless frustration and outright boredom.
I cannot discount your acumen or your training. Can't overlook you as a threat just because I have a main event match to win.
I wouldn't sneeze at the fact that you've both endured backbreaking strong-style training in some of the very same halls that birthed me.
Any and all of these facts would make you a strong-enough contender.
Hell, half of our early conflict revolved around the fact that I was frankly outraged at you, Crowley, for taking this Young Lion under your wing, so fresh from the dojo that I questioned if he was still even wearing plain black trunks yet.
It fell under the same general concern I had for Johnny Bacchus.
I don't want someone young, twenty years and barely even with hair on his peaches, standing across the ring from me just starting his journey and pretending that the few skills his barely-legal mind retained is enough to make a difference against a lifetime of experience, and a hard, embittered road full of tears and ashes.
I'd want, more than anything, for it not to be an option, for Robert Benedict to leave you behind, Crowley before you conned him into thinking your stiff-upper-lip act was the way to power through any adversity.
It's plain to see the way you're pushing this boy around, that he'll follow you blindly into the jaws of hell, and that'll lead him to so many humiliating defeats.
Solely because you, Hector Crowley, are nothing but a carny fuck that has no idea how any of this works.
Maybe it's the way you've continued to say that neither Dion or I have had to face any worthwhile competition in the Tag division.
Maybe it's the way you opened your mouth and inserted your foot, like the time you said that the Tag belts were put on two singles wrestlers who defend them three times a year.
(Right, because being double-booked and defending them as well as having the main event two shows in a row holds no weight.)
Maybe it's the corny-ass way you dictate everything you're doing as if you're an old man asking his grandson what Gmail is. Listing high-LAR-ious social media such as Onlygrams or Myfaces.
Or the insipid, cringe-worthy way you wax lyrical about everything under the sun from tag-team wrestling in the territory days to how proper moves are applied.
What you are's someone so fucking set in the old ways that you've never even remotely begun to update your gameplan.
You still think sitting around, reading the newspaper to each other, describing how to properly care for your cufflinks, or apply the right form of mustache wax before you painstakingly and excruciatingly detail out a training regimen, gives us insight into your lives.
You sincerely think you're doing something by trying to cut insults on someone by looking them up on Youtube.
You couldn't be blander than if I broke you open as a pinata and tapioca pudding spilled out of your head.
It shows from the first line you spoke about me, that you went to your search bar, typed in Downfall, and when scrolled down and found some IEW matches. Then you sniffed haughtily and said, "Ahh yes, I've heard of this... Downfall fellow, going by his matches in the IEW, if I study his tape I shall find a way to counter his moveset, harumph hallo, good day."
Yes. That happened.
You fixated on me so fucking hard, that you wasted an entire arrow detailing how you watched my videos for hours just so you could gain insight on how to counter the Godkiller. 'Cause, that's what any student of the game, blue-chipper, Chessmaster technical wizard would do, study tape...
Except what if I don't use that move? What if I superkicked you in the back of the head, just the way I put Robbie's damn lights out on Clash?
Or took my fist against your jaw with such force that the referees had to drape your arms over their shoulder and assist you over to the doctor to perform concussion protocols?
Shit, what if I said screw the fancy moves you claim to've scouted, what if I just stepped on your arm and pulled back until it broke?
Yeah, suddenly it seems kinda stupid to base an entire premise around "I'm Bobby Fischering this because I know X-amount of ways to counter the Godkiller" for ten minutes.
Also, it fixates solely on me, been the entire problem ever since I stepped up to talk shit to you first... you're leaving Dionysus entirely out of the equation.
Dionysus, the man who's been going on undefeated weeks at a time, Dionysus, the man who pinned Sam Kidsgrove to win us these championships... the man who, in fact, shut your damn mouth so effectively, Crowley, that it completely silenced you.
You had a chance to step the fuck up and show that you were worth all of this sneering disdain for the Tag division.
A chance for you to actually prove that you were going to make it better. But you went quiet for a whole week.
You haven't actually done... anything that really enriches the Tag division, or brings eyeballs to it.
Trust me, sitting around, week-in, week-out and saying the same old god damn things about how thin the division is, does not do it.
And you did push us hard, and we did go to a draw.
You can always have that nugget that says "on our best day, when I was so prepared to face Downfall (and Downfall only,) my partner and I took on the Tag Team Champions while they were distracted by an upcoming bout with Philidor, to a no-contest."
But that's entirely it.
You haven't done a damn thing that's left a real impact, or a footprint... half of the problem of you going silent when you had avenge your non-victory was that you left even the opportunity to even the score on the table.
Makes me think that once you get a real, true loss under your belt; once the Vanguard kicks the shit out of you and shows you that you really aren't as special or entertaining as you seem to think your stuffy gentleman's club act really is; you're gonna be out the door. But what are we supposed to do here, show our bellies to you because you talk shit about how many teams there are?
You've not once shown an insight into how to solve the actual problems, strengthen the division, entice more challenging teams than Team Extreme - who you barely beat, just btdubs, so... glass houses there;
OR how to bring any more credibility than Dion or myself are already doing...
And as God is my fucking witness, I don't care how much tape you have watched of me.
You obviously haven't watched anything about Dion or myself from the past year, the road we took to claiming the Tag belts and overcoming Fight Forever, or the teams we had to beat on the way up.
You haven't seen that it's not only me you need to fixate on, because Dion and I have trained for this moment, and we aren't about to lay down and let you two claim dominance over a division you've put the bare minimum of interacting into.
I've heard you loud and clear, Dangerous Gents.
You hear this.
You probably think that you've got our number. Hell, you may, even think, for some reason, that the reason I've attacked you is out of some fear of your skill, or that you've got us running scared.
You may, even sneer that you can do better by the Tag division, because with you at it's head, you would do more for it than I've been doing... except that is patently false. I've been repping this shit all day long.
I carry my title, proudly on my shoulder and hold that shit up every week when I'm WINNING in the main event. I'll hold it aloft when I win the main event of Turmoil, after we're finished dusting your pasty, unseasoned asses earlier in the night.
I hope you stick around. I hope you don't go quiet, fade into obscurity after you lose your best shot.
The only way the Tag division won't be what you claim it already is, is if teams fight to claim their shot and climb up the ladder. That's what we want.
We're just going to be the Vanguard, at the front, leading the way.
You thought the wrap-up at the end of the year was just going to be a dirge reminding everyone of the low-points and the failures this division has seen?
This is where we uplift everyone's expectations and show you how great the Tag division can really be.
Watch us.
My name is Dionysus Albert Necurat. You can call me Dionysus.
I'm twenty-nine years old, stand six-foot-five and weigh roughly two-hundred and seventy pounds. My blood type is O negative.
...See, you're probably wondering why I'm introducing myself to you guys. We've had a match together. Hell, I've had two with Crowley. And yet I still need to make introductions. Seems awfully strange, doesn't it? Your second biggest match as a team in Action Wrestling, and you still seem to be forgetting something.
Let me explain a thing or two about how this division works. Its a team-based division, usually with two people.
Two people.
Twoooooooooooooo.
Getting it through now?
Man, for a team that considers themselves "legit competition that we need," you seem to have a hard time grasping that concept, huh?
Sure, Downfall has poked the bear...for whatever reason. Even with our level of trust, there are times that I can't really tell why he does what he does. But that isn't really relevant to the task at hand, isn't it? No, this is basically about how your focus has been on half The Vanguard and not the whole. And see, this is why a team like yours is doomed to fail from the get-go.
I've explained this before, but the moniker "The Man Action Wrestling Forgot" is intentional. You weren't supposed to actually forget the other tag team champion, on multiple occasions, all while intending to show that you're the apex competition in this division. Let me be blunt, because I doubt anything else would actually sink in for you. if you cannot focus on the whole team, you're doomed to fail. The Vanguard isn't any one person. It is a team, conceived from the mind of a competitor that considers himself the standard bearer of this company. Anyone who wants to prove themselves will need to go through us first. It isn't anything so arrogant as saying "you can take this title from my cold, dead hands," because the goal here is not solely the titles.
It is about prestige.
It is about building this division.
It is all about a restoration that can convincingly rival that of the Cruiserclash tag division, to be in the same conversation as Two Gents or Red White and Bruised.
And since day one of our formation, The Vanguard has lived up to our namesake's definition. We lead the charge, we set the pace, form the foundation. And we do this by competing against all comers, regardless of the stipulation. Let me remind you that while you assume our attention is focused elsewhere from this division, we not only helped topple one of the biggest threats to Action Wrestling, but we did it on a night where we also defended these titles. These coveted belts you want so badly.
As explained before, having the benefit of dragging a match out until time expires is simply one strategy we implemented. Nothing devious, nothing evil; just a play out of the playbook that maybe wasn't considered. Think of it like this; we can still compete with you for at least thirty minutes. We still had plenty left in the tank to go over that time limit. We could also consider using the same strategy again this time around. Give an unsatisfying finish to your second challenge, watch your frustrations mount and see you two grow further and further apart.
...
But ask yourself; how would that help the division?
While we have proclaimed ourselves to be the architects behind the restoration of the tag division, I personally won't claim that we are the only ones that will make this reconstruction happen. You've been very vocal about your disappointment in this division, that the competition is next to non-existent and that you are the only true challenge we have. And I simply have one response to that:
Talk is cheap.
Time for the true test.
No time limit is going to help us this time. We won't hold back (not that we did the last time, but I anticipate you were probably thinking that too). Don't even think anything outside this contest will affect the outcome. And don't think for one moment that Downfall is the only one you should be concerned with.
Come Turmoil, I, Dionysus, will give you a proper introduction...
...And remind you what being a team is all about.
The two of them trudged in out of the cold, removing their coats and handing them to the attendant. "You know, we could have met at a Denny's off the interstate, instead of this opulent shit," Danny snarked. He gestured around him, to the hotel's banquet hall. It was milling with dozens of people.
It was a fancy, black tie affair, and most of the Necurat Corporation employees were chatting amiably. As ever, he felt out of place, though matching in his newly-slicked black(ish) hair and wearing his black silk dress-shirt and vest. "I must say, Daniel," Dion grinned, "you cut a dashing figure like this."
He looked over to Michelle, joking, "If we could just get him to clean up like this, I could take him to board meetings."
Michelle smiled, politely, and overemphasized her words as she squeezed Dion's bicep. "Thank you so much for inviting us tonight, Dion."
"I've been wanting to talk to you about the charity event we're running next month, we have the loveliest string quintet coming to entertain the guests and I wanted your thoughts on the dinner menu."
"Shoot me an email, I'll be able to squeeze you in between clients," she said, then she looked over her shoulder at Danny. "If you boys will excuse me, uh, I'm gonna snag a champagne flute and schmooze." And she parted from Danny, eyeing him again.
Dion raised his eyebrows as he stood next to his partner. "Frosty reception."
He was bone-tired, he had already endured one awkward dinner ruminating over vegan options, turkey livers and being interview-grilled by Alec's bored housewife. And he had a million anxious worries on his mind, and a million more dark, brooding spots on his heart. He didn't feel like rehashing his and Michelle's woes with Dion. "Things're... weird."
"So, talk to me, man. Why it is that you're here, dour and mournful on a day when we're celebrating a banner year for both of us." He plucked at Danny's silk vest. "Dressed like a Dangerous Gent, too..."
Danny and Dion left the company party behind, walking to a side hallway. "Look, Daniel, I know we've been a little off-track this month..."
Danny grunted, irritably and shrugged, "I knew what I was getting us into, and I stand by it. I always want to prove myself, and I've-"
"Let me finish. And I know that you've had your reasons for being the way you are. I get that you aren't always going to have the same outlook that I do, and you have a history of being more ruthless than anyone."
Danny looked off from him, grimacing. "I won't apologize for -"
"I'm not asking you to apologize. I'm asking for us to get on the same page. We both want the same things, to be the best, to prove ourselves. Why do you think I've been so busy elsewhere? Your example lit a fire under me, and I've taken that out into the world. But the shady side, the ego, the attacking people from behind, that can't happen."
Danny chewed that over, then blinked. "I did go full aggro asshole on them, didn't I."
"More than a little. And if you're annoyed or pissed off or tapping into your dark side because they remind you of yourself at a different stage in your life, that's valid, but..."
"Dion, it's more than that, it's..." He leaned against the wall, arms folded. "It's realizing through all of this, that maybe tapping into my 'dark side', is what's bringing me success. In being ruthless. In not giving a fuck about my opponent's safety. Maybe this is just me. Maybe I'm a piece of shit, and you should run from me, too."
His voice is growing more bitter, more pensive. "Maybe I've thought all along that when I'm at my worst, it is more effective... exactly what I told Johnny. It's a heavy thing to ask myself, but... maybe I was a fool to think after Havoc, after coming together, that I was a changed man or I was making things better."
Dion listened, blinking, and nodded. Finally, he said, "Daniel, get your head out of your ass."
Danny's eyes whipped upwards.
"You haven't gotten better? Daniel, you are here, alive, when last year's Christmas you contemplated a bridge. You have had the most successful run of anyone I've known, AND, for the first time in your life, you've formed a partnership, a reciprocal bond with someone you trusted."
"I did..."
"Yes, you've been meaner, you've been nastier, and that's brought you success - in your field. But you've also been honest with your emotions, and ready to be someone genuine. If you are having any problems with Michelle, you can tell her that, and it'll be true."
"But as far as you and me go? Dan... I'm thankful for this year, because it brought us together, and I wouldn't walk away from this team if my life depended on it."
"Dion..." he said, then his eyebrows knit together. "Thanks."
Maybe what Alec said, about the aura of these holidays being solemn because it amounted to the reflections on sorrows of an entire year's choices was accurate but not whole. Maybe, being mindful of this year, also meant taking in being thankful for what you had all along, if you just thought about it.
He followed Dion back into the banquet hall, lighter in spirit. Dion, grinning broadly, turned to his employees.
"My friends, dinner is about to be served."
A waiter brought out a huge, elaborate silver serving tray, and removed the lid.
Danny groaned. "Dion, you fucking didn't."
Dion's smile widened as he indicated the huge trough of tortilla chips and a bowl of dip in the middle. One last time for the year. "I had to, it's the spirit of giving thanks."
Sorry, it took me so long to return your calls, Hector and Robbie, my schedule's been a little bit hectic the last few weeks.
Took a couple weeks off to beat the bricks off of some Philidor die-hards, and now I've found myself talking just like a corporate stooge... even if it's just in an effort to bring a new form of trash-talk that isn't you claiming we've let the Tag division go to shit.
I've had to listen to your continuing little shots against me on an uneven basis since Execution, and been unable to respond to it since I've been taking part in the WOTY tournament and having to concentrate on taking on competition that afforded me actually challenging dialogue; they were the ones that pressured me to fight my hardest, level my game up to where I really felt like I was competing on the main event level.
You've not engaged me on that level of critical thought.
If I had to distill my feelings about you down to their essence, it'd fall somewhere between endless frustration and outright boredom.
I cannot discount your acumen or your training. Can't overlook you as a threat just because I have a main event match to win.
I wouldn't sneeze at the fact that you've both endured backbreaking strong-style training in some of the very same halls that birthed me.
Any and all of these facts would make you a strong-enough contender.
Hell, half of our early conflict revolved around the fact that I was frankly outraged at you, Crowley, for taking this Young Lion under your wing, so fresh from the dojo that I questioned if he was still even wearing plain black trunks yet.
It fell under the same general concern I had for Johnny Bacchus.
I don't want someone young, twenty years and barely even with hair on his peaches, standing across the ring from me just starting his journey and pretending that the few skills his barely-legal mind retained is enough to make a difference against a lifetime of experience, and a hard, embittered road full of tears and ashes.
I'd want, more than anything, for it not to be an option, for Robert Benedict to leave you behind, Crowley before you conned him into thinking your stiff-upper-lip act was the way to power through any adversity.
It's plain to see the way you're pushing this boy around, that he'll follow you blindly into the jaws of hell, and that'll lead him to so many humiliating defeats.
Solely because you, Hector Crowley, are nothing but a carny fuck that has no idea how any of this works.
Maybe it's the way you've continued to say that neither Dion or I have had to face any worthwhile competition in the Tag division.
Maybe it's the way you opened your mouth and inserted your foot, like the time you said that the Tag belts were put on two singles wrestlers who defend them three times a year.
(Right, because being double-booked and defending them as well as having the main event two shows in a row holds no weight.)
Maybe it's the corny-ass way you dictate everything you're doing as if you're an old man asking his grandson what Gmail is. Listing high-LAR-ious social media such as Onlygrams or Myfaces.
Or the insipid, cringe-worthy way you wax lyrical about everything under the sun from tag-team wrestling in the territory days to how proper moves are applied.
What you are's someone so fucking set in the old ways that you've never even remotely begun to update your gameplan.
You still think sitting around, reading the newspaper to each other, describing how to properly care for your cufflinks, or apply the right form of mustache wax before you painstakingly and excruciatingly detail out a training regimen, gives us insight into your lives.
You sincerely think you're doing something by trying to cut insults on someone by looking them up on Youtube.
You couldn't be blander than if I broke you open as a pinata and tapioca pudding spilled out of your head.
It shows from the first line you spoke about me, that you went to your search bar, typed in Downfall, and when scrolled down and found some IEW matches. Then you sniffed haughtily and said, "Ahh yes, I've heard of this... Downfall fellow, going by his matches in the IEW, if I study his tape I shall find a way to counter his moveset, harumph hallo, good day."
Yes. That happened.
You fixated on me so fucking hard, that you wasted an entire arrow detailing how you watched my videos for hours just so you could gain insight on how to counter the Godkiller. 'Cause, that's what any student of the game, blue-chipper, Chessmaster technical wizard would do, study tape...
Except what if I don't use that move? What if I superkicked you in the back of the head, just the way I put Robbie's damn lights out on Clash?
Or took my fist against your jaw with such force that the referees had to drape your arms over their shoulder and assist you over to the doctor to perform concussion protocols?
Shit, what if I said screw the fancy moves you claim to've scouted, what if I just stepped on your arm and pulled back until it broke?
Yeah, suddenly it seems kinda stupid to base an entire premise around "I'm Bobby Fischering this because I know X-amount of ways to counter the Godkiller" for ten minutes.
Also, it fixates solely on me, been the entire problem ever since I stepped up to talk shit to you first... you're leaving Dionysus entirely out of the equation.
Dionysus, the man who's been going on undefeated weeks at a time, Dionysus, the man who pinned Sam Kidsgrove to win us these championships... the man who, in fact, shut your damn mouth so effectively, Crowley, that it completely silenced you.
You had a chance to step the fuck up and show that you were worth all of this sneering disdain for the Tag division.
A chance for you to actually prove that you were going to make it better. But you went quiet for a whole week.
You haven't actually done... anything that really enriches the Tag division, or brings eyeballs to it.
Trust me, sitting around, week-in, week-out and saying the same old god damn things about how thin the division is, does not do it.
And you did push us hard, and we did go to a draw.
You can always have that nugget that says "on our best day, when I was so prepared to face Downfall (and Downfall only,) my partner and I took on the Tag Team Champions while they were distracted by an upcoming bout with Philidor, to a no-contest."
But that's entirely it.
You haven't done a damn thing that's left a real impact, or a footprint... half of the problem of you going silent when you had avenge your non-victory was that you left even the opportunity to even the score on the table.
Makes me think that once you get a real, true loss under your belt; once the Vanguard kicks the shit out of you and shows you that you really aren't as special or entertaining as you seem to think your stuffy gentleman's club act really is; you're gonna be out the door. But what are we supposed to do here, show our bellies to you because you talk shit about how many teams there are?
You've not once shown an insight into how to solve the actual problems, strengthen the division, entice more challenging teams than Team Extreme - who you barely beat, just btdubs, so... glass houses there;
OR how to bring any more credibility than Dion or myself are already doing...
And as God is my fucking witness, I don't care how much tape you have watched of me.
You obviously haven't watched anything about Dion or myself from the past year, the road we took to claiming the Tag belts and overcoming Fight Forever, or the teams we had to beat on the way up.
You haven't seen that it's not only me you need to fixate on, because Dion and I have trained for this moment, and we aren't about to lay down and let you two claim dominance over a division you've put the bare minimum of interacting into.
I've heard you loud and clear, Dangerous Gents.
You hear this.
You probably think that you've got our number. Hell, you may, even think, for some reason, that the reason I've attacked you is out of some fear of your skill, or that you've got us running scared.
You may, even sneer that you can do better by the Tag division, because with you at it's head, you would do more for it than I've been doing... except that is patently false. I've been repping this shit all day long.
I carry my title, proudly on my shoulder and hold that shit up every week when I'm WINNING in the main event. I'll hold it aloft when I win the main event of Turmoil, after we're finished dusting your pasty, unseasoned asses earlier in the night.
I hope you stick around. I hope you don't go quiet, fade into obscurity after you lose your best shot.
The only way the Tag division won't be what you claim it already is, is if teams fight to claim their shot and climb up the ladder. That's what we want.
We're just going to be the Vanguard, at the front, leading the way.
You thought the wrap-up at the end of the year was just going to be a dirge reminding everyone of the low-points and the failures this division has seen?
This is where we uplift everyone's expectations and show you how great the Tag division can really be.
Watch us.