Post by Stephen Singh on Mar 6, 2022 12:49:10 GMT -5
That win felt like one of the old ones.
Finet steps behind his sparring partner with a hammer lock.
A quick roll-up out of nowhere? People saying you stole the match.
Finet switches to a top wrist lock, driving his opponent to his knees.
You probably even had a handful of tights.
Finet struggles to control his hired opponent.
You’re not sure. You’re not sure if you even CAN win without cheating. You going to beat Jessie Lee clean this week?
Finet’s opponent begins to break the wristlock.
You can’t do a goddamn thing without cheating like you always have, you fucking loser.
Finet lifts a knee to the face of his opponent whose nose busts open.
Oof, I thought we were grappling?!
As the opponent’s words spill through the blood, Finet has already slapped on a triangle choke, cinched in tight, trying to squeeze the memories out of his mind, to choke the black out of his soul. His mind reels to his brother, his mother, Jessie Lee, his New Legacy…
The opponent has been tapping frantically; Finet finally releases the hold.
What the fuck?!
I–
As soon as I started to break your hold, you knee me? When you said we were just grappling?
The opponent rolls out of the ring. Finet slides out of the ring and to his duffle bag, pulling out a small wad of cash. He counts out ten 20s and extends them toward the man whose head is tilted back, a rag applied to stop the bleeding.
Hey man, I’m sorry. Take this–
Finet extends the cash and the man looks at it, hesitating.
For the ER bill at least…
You feel that bad?
Finet nods. The man snatches the wad out of the masked star’s other hand.
I’ll take this then. Maybe that’ll help you with some of that guilt.
It won’t.
The man leaves as Finet adjusts his mask, looking at the $200 he has left.
Now that I’ve punched my ticket to BattleBowl, I can exhale and relax; maybe let Jessie Lee off the hook a little, right? No such luck for you, Jessie. I said it before that White House Battle Royal I won: I’m building a New Legacy. You understand that, Jessie, you seem to meticulously track every “accomplishment” (if those air quotes were doing any more heavy lifting, they’d be Mark Henry) in your underwhelming career:
2x Horrorcore Champion, Rising Star Champion, Final Four of some battle royal.
I didn’t even realize Action Wrestling had a Horrorc–Oh wait. We don’t; those “accomplishments” took place in some tiny pond with lil’ fish. Since you’ve been swimming in the Loserweight shallow end of the AW pool, you’ve barely been treading water. I wanted to give you credit Jessica but you’ve got kiddie pool accolades listed on your shark tank application. And that particular kiddie pool, Jessie, is filled with my piss from a past life.
So now it’s your turn. You’re not UNtalented and I know you’re going to be taking this seriously. Good. I’m going to bloody you and toss you out like the Rev1 used tampon you are. I win a Battle Royale alongside a current tag champ–no one blinks. I roll up a former TV Champ, no one says a word. That’s fine. But that means every week is do or die to me. Every week I go out there to lay another brick in my New Legacy. This week, I’m going to take your over-enthusiastic “chaotic fucking” energy and let it be your doom.
That Leethality is no joke but I’m twice the grappler you’ve ever been and you’re not catching me with it. We’re two hungry, relatively new cruisers but our similarities end there, our paths diverge Monday. This run is my Last Chance and you bear witness to it first hand Monday night. When my hand is held up at the end of that BattleBowl, you can look on with a smile and say, “Damn, I almost got close to nearly competing with that guy just a few weeks ago.” Go ahead and put it on your pathetic list of accolades; it’s more meaningful than anything you did at that other place.