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Post by Action Reel on Jun 13, 2023 12:04:28 GMT -5
RP RULES:
6 RPS
EACH RP CAN BE 900 WORDS!
YOU CAN POST ALL AT ONCE OR WAIT FOR THE OTHER PERSON TO REPLY - UP TO YOU.
COME BACK TO THIS THREAD ON JUNE 20th IN THE MORNING FOR A SPECIAL SURPRISE
(Your deadline is Evolution deadline ....)
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Post by Max f'n Daemon on Jun 14, 2023 13:01:51 GMT -5
Well YOU'VE certainly been busy.
I'm sorry, am I supposed to be impressed by your gall? Your courage? Your willingness to keep fightin despite me kickin your ass up and down that arena?
It took ya' four segments of Clash interspersed with fuckin Burger King ads of all things ta' try and rile up the crowd and get 'em ta' try and muster up some type of response, but at the end of the day, what did that lead ta'?
It sure as shit wasn't ya' beatin the hell outta me.
It sure as shit wasn't ya' walkin out with a victory, nah.
It was just like what happened the week before: The Dirge beatin ya' within an inch of your pathetic fuckin life with a smirk on my face.
Honestly, ya' should be HAPPY I didn't kill ya'. I could've done worse. I coulda broke your arm like Kitsumi. I coulda gave ya' a massive concussion like I did Doc. Hell, I coulda blinded ya' in one eye like I probably did David's.
But I didn't.
I kept ya' alive.
Cause ya' still have somethin I want.
Cause despite your best efforts to the contrary through the War and Peace sized monologue ya' gave last week that nearly put me ta' sleep (yeah, ya' do those too, don't act like you're immune ta' that shit), ya've yet to fully understand what went down.
So I'll let ya' know all nice and simple what happened.
Max fuckin Daemon beat the shit outta Downfall ta' the point of him not walkin outta the arena on his own accord.
That's it.
End of story.
Yours, anyway.
It's actually pretty easy ta' understand why I didn't kill ya', as much as I might fuckin want ta'.
That Hardcore Title is still on the line. And no vacancy, no surrender, no amount of Torture or management interference is gonna take that title from ya'.
Nobody or no one but ME.
Even if I have ta' drag your broken and bloodied corpse outta the fuckin morgue, I'm throwin your ass in the middle of the ring and gettin that three count.
Ya' spoke a LOT.
Like...a LOT a lot the last few weeks.
But one of the things that I remembered is ya' mentioned my exploits elsewhere. CU:LT, if I may be so bold.
Ya' put down my time there as a negative, and for the love of the unknown, are ya' really that fuckin dense ta' grasp that a person who does deathmatch, hardcore bullshit on the regular is somebody who is probably more attuned ta' this than somebody who grew some balls and picked up a crowbar thinkin they were a fucked up version of Gordon Freeman without the intelligence ta' properly wield it?
I've taken worst moves from people I hate, and I still expect more from 'em than I do from ya'.
So what do ya' have planned, huh?
Wanna set me on fire? Awesome, I've still recovering from second degree burns from a few months ago.
Wanna throw me inta' some barbed wire or thumbtacks, maybe even nails? I took that shit before I fell inta' the flames, so if you're expectin me ta' be worried, I'm really fuckin not.
What, are ya' gonna try ta' break my arm or bleed me dry?
Ya' can certainly TRY.
Because that's all you're gonna be doin.
You'll TRY.
You're gonna TRY ta' make me quit.
You're gonna TRY ta' make me beg.
You're gonna TRY ta' make me surrender.
TRY.
TRY.
TRY.
But just like ya've failed ta' get in my head since we started this.
Just like ya've failed ta' find a landmark point ta' define this reign on top in the Hardcore division beyond "Downfall punks out a buncha nobodies", and yes, that includes my apprentice.
And just like ya've failed ta' be Johnny fuckin Bacchus in your countless attempts at ridiculin me or my personality or tryin ta' outwit or out-hardcore me in a match like this, or even suffer problems outside the ring while attemptin ta' do good IN it...
You will TRY.
And you will FAIL.
This isn't a case of "Max Daemon calls out Downfall for a trip down history" where I try and beat a David Hunter or Conor McGregor.
Nah.
This is a case of "Max Daemon calls out Downfall for a fuckin massacre".
It's the biggest stage of AW's year, and over 80,000 people are gonna flood Metlife Stadium ta' watch Max Daemon beat the shit outta Downfall.
And nobody will feel sorry for ya'.
Nobody will shed a tear when that Hardcore Title is removed from your grasp.
Ya' might think that doesn't hurt ya' now, but when you're left in that ring, bleedin outta every pour of your body, and all ya' can hear is the boos of the crowd while I share a toast with the championship that USED ta' be yours, I know it's gonna fuckin hurt.
More than the wounds.
More than the bruises.
More than the scars that'll form.
Knowin ya' didn't beat Max fuckin Daemon when it mattered most, and ya've lost the one thing that ya've tried ta' use ta' define this new you.
THAT will hurt the most.
And if that hurt motivates ya' ta' still TRY only ta' FAIL?
Fine with me man.
Have it your way.
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Post by Downfall on Jun 14, 2023 14:12:56 GMT -5
I'm sorry, Max.
For every one of the small, perceived microaggressions that I've committed since April that've led us to this moment, I'll feel the need to apologize for; Not, specifically, to you. In point of fact, some of this may have to go up into the ether and serve as a blanket mea culpa for the secondhand embarrassments we've witnessed listening to you spout such blatant cringe on main, and then there's the apology that's more of an interjection: as in, excuse me, gentle nimwit. Do you actually think this week, on Clash, is the first or last time Daniel fucking Fehl has ever been bloodied, carried out on a stretcher, left laying?
The unmitigated arrogance of you, and the boneheadedly-dull, boring hubris. "So I'll let ya know what happened. Max fuckin' Daemon beat the shit outta Downfall ta' tha pointa him not walkin' outta the arena under his own power, durrrr"...
Did you... perhaps miss a few key points in there?
Oh, who am I kidding- you're so tuned out that you've skimmed right over not just the subtext, but the actual text of what I said. Sorry I spoke A LOT. Sorry I spoke a... lot A LOT. the last couple weeks, handwrapped you something of substance to sink your teeth into, that I pushed you to apply yourself.
Clearly, listening to you dribble diarrhetic from your thin, wormy lips just now, that gambit failed.
Didja miss the part where I did walk out of the arena under my own power? In point of fact, at the end of the night, stood in the shower, watching my own claret circle down the drain, yet my eyes alight with wrathful vengeance lit right into you? You wanna drily muse over whether or not I'm going to put you on thumbtacks when I stared guns down into the camera, swearing I was going to pull your damn throat out? Missed that one, huh? Oh, man. Sorry we went four segments.
Did you miss the part where Max Fuckin' Daemon didn't beat me around the arena, and that I was actually smashing your head over and over onto a car hood in the parking lot until Holo Make interfered and the two of you jumped me?
Oh, but that detracts from the image of you as a badass, or anything except an ineffectual failson. Because if you're the one beating Downfall's ass in a straight up fight, solo, no assistance, no weapons, then your shoot against me is cutting and insightful, I AM an old, washed up bitch that needs to swing a crowbar and attack people! But, if it's not... and YOU'RE a backshooting, jumping little worm attacking from behind while I'm distracted strangling David Hunter, beats me down with a barbed-wire wrapped steel chair (!!) and gets fucking walked like a dog around the arena until his gimp is extricated from a crashed ambulance with the jaws of life and comes to help him out.
Except that asking you to be consistent in your logic and actually think about what you're trying to say rather than contradict yourself over whether or not I need weapons at all (and then you then, go on to use an even stupider, more pathetically edgelord weapon) is a bridge too fucking far for you, apparently.
This, right here, is exactly why you want to waste your time feuding with David Hunter, even with Conor McGregor. Because they mumble the same asinine things as you, so really all you've ever been doing is feeding an echo chamber of yourself out into the world and barely even attempting to apply yourself.
I attempted to cut through that with you. You actually claimed you wanted, in Havoc, to step up and show us the man you were meant to be. And you landed in the top ten, but you still failed.
I landed in the top three, and I acknowledge I still failed... but my top three, my finals of Turmoil, my near-win at All-In trumps anything and everything you've done in two fucking years, Max. My ceiling is higher because I've worked harder to push it higher and even when I didn't land, I made sure that anyone involved knew they were in a fight.
You do not, and you can't even utter a denial. It's you that's the problem, Max. You spread yourself thin over anyone who'll give you a crumb of attention and beg like a dog in the Twitter comments night and day... but ask you to show up and fight for contendership. But ask you to pick one division and try your hardest to make a mark, and you don't.
As if we're all supposed to pretend that it's entirely your idea that you stepped up and declared yourself for this challenge when I've been the one needling you to nut up since April. And now that we're here, all you can do is whimper about how long the fucking segments are.
For ever believing you could've been capable of more I sincerely apologize, Max. I was wrong. Just now, you confirmed to me how limited you are and also, grimly, how satisfying for me it'll be when I heard your bones snap between my hands.
Sorry that I spoke sooooo many words in preparation for this week, Max.
I've only got two for you now;
Stay down.
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Post by Max f'n Daemon on Jun 14, 2023 15:30:27 GMT -5
Oh I'm sorry who's walkin inta' this injured?
Who's the one who's so damn prideful of his own fuckin ego that he's constantly havin ta' remind people that they're lesser?
Ya' LOVE ta' mention "logic" and tryin ta' corner people's words within themselves.
It's a consistent fuckin tactic ya' love usin, but there's one problem with it.
All the words ya' weave, all the logic ya' form in your own little world ta' try and do a "gotcha" at your opponent?
It's as irritatin as it is fuckin fictional.
I called ya' a Spin Doctor earlier, but holy shit, it's true!
Take my words. Spin 'em around your little web until ya' can somehow make it make sense in your fucked up brain that you're right. And then circle back around ta' a "gotcha" that leaves everybody confused about what just happened, so it MUST be true, right?
Not ta' anybody else, nah.
Only ta' the guy who has ta' spend four segments just ta' try and get back at a guy for beatin his ass AND still end the night gettin beatin up some more.
Cause did ya' miss the part where you're STILL injured? Where I STILL beat your ass?
Nobody's comin outta Clash and thinkin "ah man, Downfall really took it ta' Max. He's really gonna beat the punk's ass at Evolution."
Nah, ya' fuckin prick, they're thinkin "man Max beat the shit outta Downfall. This is gonna be a cakewalk for the guy who is in a deathmatch literally every month."
The gambit didn't fail, fucker. There's no gambit here ta' work with. Ya' didn't "give me" anythin but your own ass that I then promptly handed ta' ya'.
You're not a goddamn savage. You're not a deathmatch, hardcore wrestler despite how ya' might present yourself as. You're not any kinda purveyor of brutality just cause ya' hold the Hardcore Title and lead this division.
You're still the same guy who lost the World Title not too much longer after he won it. The same guy who saw teamin with Dionysus with the Tag Titles as a demotion.
You just picked up the Hardcore Title and decided that since ya' couldn't win any other titles back, ya'd settle for beatin up nobodies until they have ta' be stretchered out of the arena.
But I'm not a nobody, despite your own insistency on it.
I'm Max fuckin Daemon!
The biggest threat ya've faced since ya' won that damn title, and now you're gonna try and pass me off? Like I DIDN'T beat your ass ta' the hospital? That ya' were at for a WEEK? I can't think of any other reason ya'd have ta' steal an ambulance!
But ya' looked so bad after I beat ya' down, ya' just HAD ta' get the last word in, huh? Despite the wounds, despite the blood, despite lookin like my bitch moments prior, Downfall was gonna let the world know that he was gonna come for Maxie!
Guess what!
Nobody gives a FUCK about Downfall!
Ya've held plenty of gold in this company, and not one person in the crowd or in the back gives an iota of a fuck about ya'!
Well that's not true.
I care about ya' Downfall.
But only temporarily.
From now until the moment that title's mine, I give a fuck about ya'.
Once I rip that title from your mangled body, I'm gonna go back ta' not givin a fuck about ya'.
Cause if ya' think I'm here for whatever Downfall does afterwards? I'm not.
If ya' think you're gonna get another shot at this title and we're gonna go ta' war again? We're not.
If ya' think the world's gonna look at this match and suddenly see Downfall as a pariah of paragraphs, a master of mind games, a goddamn GENIUS when it comes ta' makin ya' look stupid, you're dead fuckin wrong.
Spin this shit like a fuckin DJ, I don't care. I legitimately don't care how ya' wanna go about this. It doesn't change the fact that after I beat ya' for that title, you're gonna go back ta' findin another patsy ta' pick on or ally with. And once they're no longer useful in elevatin your slowly careenin career, you'll beat their ass with a crowbar too.
The only difference is...where ya' gonna go when the guy ya' spent so much time buryin a fuckin grave for is the one ta' put ya' in it?
Wait, before ya' speak, lemme play Downfall.
"You can say what you want, Maxie, it doesn't change anything."
"I'm gonna spend a sonnet pinpointing one specific thing about our exploits recently while ignoring everything else that makes me look bad."
"I'm gonna put up a promo after we're all done because I have to have the last word, which means I'm right."
You're a piece of shit ta' work with and I've despised every moment on camera the two of us had over the past few weeks.
The only savin grace that could come from ya' SOMEHOW winnin this is I'll never have ta' worry about that anymore.
As much as ya' might want it, I won't quit. I won't surrender.
Not ta' a motherfucker too worried about logical fallacies ta' worry about his body failin him.
I've beaten better motherfuckers at their BEST in this environment.
You don't stand a fucking chance.
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Post by Downfall on Jun 14, 2023 16:30:46 GMT -5
Ohhooo, the real Max comes out with that pointed, barbed, "I've despised every moment we've shared in the last few weeks". As if I've ever been anything but candid about the fact that yeah, I'm an ass.
That yeah, I do "have ta get tha' last word" because when people come at me talking shit and say something morally contradictory, idiotic or just abjectly false... I like to do a little thing called "letting them know they fucked up and where". And, boyoboy did you ever just.
Do not snark at me, you little fucking shit. In "tryin' ta play Downfall" and call me out for all my perceived locker room cancerousness, you're gonna make me crack my neck to one side and really start going to work on that vein.
I could do like you do, of course. I could just sit back and take it.
But key difference between us' always been, I actually care about what I do.
You think I'm shook by you choosing this moment to bare fangs and act like you've never liked me? This is where you immediately dropped from competition to me treating you like a little brother. I was the one rooting for you to do something the entire time you've been here.
And it's only now, because you have me there to actually care about the perception of a division you never once tried to be in, and who defied you to step up to me and bring your best.
Now you hate me for that. Now you act like it's poison to stand in the same ring as me.
Being honest, you're showing me rn, you can't even share my air, Max.
So this is your gameplan for this week is it? Try to defang my entire critique of you as a person and as a competitor in AW by talking out the side of your mouth about the length of segments or "paragraphs" or even, bizarrely, taking digs at the way I try to use words of more than a few syllables? (So that I don't sound like I'm coming through a speech impediment caused by a traumatic brain injury?)
Damn you even went hard into the same. Boring. Cliched, already discounted and cast aside notion that "I'm tha' same fuckin guy who lost the World title not too long after I won it". Do you know. How hilarious it is to hear that damning, absolutely withering take come from the lips of Dionysus, Joey Scala, and Max Daemon. (Great company you're in, sport!)
The cheek of someone who's never even put in a second's worth of effort into stepping up into the main event is going to snarl that I lost the World Title quickly and never went back for it.
Oh noes, I'm playing to type and going down the history just like Max said I would, such a predictable beast I am!
'Cept the problem isn't a lack of achievement, or even, really, a lack of commitment. Max, at this point I don't care if you leave in five months a burned out husk of a man that's never sniffed another Television title, cup win, anything but Lissie Hope bathwater bought secondhand through a burner account. I don't care if you go on from here to partake in deathmatches every single week in CU:LT. You're showing me that when people ask you to try, you get sullen like a teenager.
No. My entire problem with you is that at the end of the day, you exude the most beta, follower energy of any man I've ever seen in my life and it shows.
'S'why the Rulers of Our Kind flopped on Cruiserclash, why Roddy and Kitsumi didn't follow your example to greatness once you made your "shocking" brandswitch (tucking tail and leaving emptyhanded, when you went DOWN to Cruiserclash sneering about how it was the B-show) and why, once Holo and you "broke Kitsumi's arm" and left them for dead, you've still yet to accomplish anything here. You aren't a leader, Max.
You'll glom onto anyone even remotely cooler than you and follow them, co-sign every "witty" thing they say on Twitter, and suck their cock even when they're not around. I made a point to you about how I've actually, in positions comparable to yours, beat people you weren't able to. You took that and began proclaiming to the back of the class, how EVERYONE knows who the REAL GREATEST HARDCORE CHAMPION WAS, as if the man would march to the arena right then and give you a thank-you tug. You are fucking pathetic, dude.
They may gas you up out there. That you're secretly the greatest ever, and you always deserved better, but they aren't helping you in here and pushing you week-to-week. They aren't the ones flaking out and fogging up for a week and letting opportunities for the Tag belts dry up. They aren't the ones who once promised a game changer of the AW World, but through negligence, slipped into being irrelevant.
That's all you, cowboy.
Now.
You wanna clear your throat and get that bass out of your voice before the next salvo, or is this gonna go worse for you? I got all the time in the world, Max.
Let me know much you've always secretly hated me.
You're really gonna hate this.
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Post by Max f'n Daemon on Jun 14, 2023 17:07:16 GMT -5
Sure "buddy"!
You're a pretentious know-it-all who trades out normal barbs for long-winded speeches and big words to try and hide the fact that despite how ya' hype yourself as, you really don't have much ta' say!
You take a few sniffs at power and your mindset changes from "woe is me" to "I'm the best goddamn thing here" when...shit, it looks pretty fuckin barren when not at the top, huh?
Take it from me since ya' wanna take a shot at my career, it fuckin SUCKS ta' not be there.
I've been tryin this whole fuckin year ta' breach that ceilin, and where has it led me ta'?
The one guy on this roster I'd expect ta' understand what it's like ta' give it your all repeatedly, time-after-time, and end up on the wrong side of a pinfall.
It's not like your career's been a beacon of success. Sure, compare yours ta' mine, and I'm sure that list of titles ya' have looks impressive, but it doesn't take too much research ta' figure out you're only as good as the hype that surrounds ya'. Once that hype is gone, what's left?
Not the Downfall that felt he was on top of the world after beatin Ashley for the TV Title.
Not the Downfall that was ALMOST Wrestler of the Year by beatin the now blacklisted Spencer Adams.
Not the Downfall that was World fuckin Champion.
Nah.
We're left with the "woe is me" Downfall who makes everyone's lives miserable by makin sure everyone else knows how fuckin sad ya' are.
Know what I've been doin in between everythin I've done?
I've kept MOVIN!
When the original Dirge was a bomb and Rulers was a lost cause, I kicked their ass and got a bigger and better partner!
When I lost ta' David, I kept...on...MOVIN!
And even now, with the train headin straight towards ya' on its way to the final station in AW, I'm still movin.
Even when I didn't utter a fuckin a word for a few months, I kept on pushin forward.
I never stopped ta' regret. I never felt remorse for my actions.
I didn't quit.
And yeah I'm leavin AW, but despite what narrative ya' wanna push, it's not cause of YOU. It's not cause of anybody here, it's cause AW is a goddamn cesspool of misused talent and mismanaged staff. From the President givin a blowjob on-air ta' Jake Paul ta' people like YOU that think they're more than they are.
Ya've had years ta' try and reach a point where you're happy with who ya' are.
Ya' haven't fuckin gotten there cause ya' never fuckin will.
So even if I actually value my career and expand past this shitstorm that is AW.
Even if I actually found other people I wanna fight in other waters.
Even if I finally found a place I'm happy bein at for more than a month that doesn't have an inconsiderate asshole like AW's president in charge.
I'm happy with who I am. The alcohol chuggin, bloodsport battlin, scarred and branded motherfucker who ya' wanna eradicate verbally.
But ya' CAN'T. Cause at the end of the day, I'm not a veteran who's settlin for a division he doesn't want. I'm a guy who wants ta' show ya' what actual Hardcore is like.
I'm not a piece of shit who thinks they're finally as great as they've always wanted ta' be just cause they've had a bit of positive momentum. I'm a guy who's always known how good I fuckin am.
I'm not Downfall retreadin his fuckin story over and over again cause all he has is that he's smarter than his opponent and can use big words ta' make himself believe he's actually good at this and MAYBE gettin people ta' believe him along the way.
I'm Max fuckin Daemon. Heavensent with the clarity of a fallen angel and hellborn with all the violence and rage that comes from a risen demon.
What part of this whole thing is meant ta' make me scared? Or feel worse about who I am? Or are ya' just tryin ta' get me ta' finally tap out and give ya' the win outright?
Cause one thing ya' still haven't fuckin learned is that I'm a fuckin LEECH.
You're not gettin rid of me until the match at Evolution happens. And when Metlife offers ya' their insurance cause I've beaten ya' ta' the point where you're skippin the morgue and the funeral home and headin sraight ta' the graveyard, only THEN...ONLY then...will I consider this settled.
Yeah ya' got my heated, but what, ya' don't get pissed? Are ya' not gettin emotional? Are ya' too good for that?
Or am I too low for ya'? What horse shit are ya' gonna pull next ta' try and make out like this isn't botherin ya'.
Cause if it ain't, you're just lyin ta' yourself.
Gonna pull a Holo and express a neutral emotion? Or are ya' too proud or some bullshit ta' get pissed at me?
Holo, who I remind ya', not only SURVIVED that ambulance crash ya' pulled on him but also STILL found it in him ta' beat your ass down.
AGAIN.
You're walkin inta' this hurt cause of what I and Holo did ta' ya', and no amount of pride or lyin ta' yourself can change that fact.
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Post by Downfall on Jun 14, 2023 21:31:02 GMT -5
I so love seeing how fit you keep yourself; That you're never one to skip leg day, because all you ever do is run in fucking circles with your logic.
You name me as someone who walks away from companies when he's jilted, and who's attitude held him back. And if you could have named any single instance of that happening that I haven't, personally, spoonfed to you, I would happily give you the autograph on the Starter cap your Stanley ass is begging for. But ya can't, can you Max.
There lies the entire crux of our little spat, buried in one of those segments you now complain went on for "paragraphs"; I laid my entire motivation out for you. I laid my entire career out for you; To show you the shoe you're now trying to make fit on your foot even if you have to saw off a heel.
To show you that I did understand you. That I knew how it felt to stew in your own bitter, impotent rage because you signed up for a tour of a fed, and despite your best gasp at the time it didn't shake out to stardom like you thought.
But the difference between us isn't only that you aren't the one who never quits. Who in the fuck are you trying to fool with that? The Dirge was a bomb and the Rulers were a bust... and you just continue making the same, stupid mistake.
You don't stand on your own two feet.
You're incapable of that, because Max Daemon couldn't make it as a wise man or, past a certain ceiling, a solo act. All you've ever done is move and trade which flavorless, monotone pastiche of a henchman you want around you at the moment and you pick bones.
You continue to parse threats so milquetoast in execution that it gives the amount of malice of having Peewee Herman wave a feather in my face.
Because at the end of the day you're incapable of something as small as looking into a mirror and seeing how it comes across.
You're a "heavensent, clarity of a fallen angel", "hellborn violence and rage of a demon", battlescar bearin' branded motherfucker who'll never quit...
Except that you're not. You're a baby-soft little pussy that ended up repeatedly running into people who cashed every single check you bounced.
You're a flaccid little nothing that continues to run the exact same program with all of these underlings and Hunters you decide to waste our viewing time with; you have your bodyguard beat them up with a barbed-wire-wrapped steel chair until it's time for you to face off at Pure Cup and then, hilariously and illogically, you don't even go on to win the fight.
You brag about injuring David's eye? Cool! He still beat your ass. You brag about fucking Conor McGregor up? Cool! He still beat your ass.
You have the absolute gall to talk your shit about how "I'm not Downfall retreading his story over an' over".
Bitch.
You're worse, because your stories patently have never ended with you overcoming your limitations, challenging your own narcissism or fighting your demons. It just ends with you doing the same thing you always do; Shortcut. Easy route. Holo beatdown. Go fuck yourself, you soft-penised weakling.
You don't keep getting up when you're kicked down. You just hand it to your brother like you need him to beat the last boss on Punchout!!.
I said before, that I understand where you're coming from, but empathizing does not equal respecting you for it.
And if it'll shut your circular ass down so you can actually think of a new argument I will admit that you AND Holo beat me down! You injured me! You wounded the wolf! Golf clap, everyone give Max a golf clap so that he won't think management and the AW culture is totally against him!
Now's where that comes into play, 'cause again, you aren't the first! Ask Ashley how it was, when I was beaten down, when I came into a fight injured, hungry for vengeance, raring for blood.
You try to turn around my criticism of Holo, of YOU, for sounding robotic and monotone. But you're fired up now, oh man, you're really heated!!
Good.
If I had to berate you and insult you to drag you to this point, to actually give me this level of effort and you end up resenting me for it, at least you'll eventually come to the realization that I pushed you to give me your best self, and you'll have that to be proud of in the instant before I fucking destroy you.
I could give two shits about your hollow threats about putting me in the grave, Max. And I laugh at your criticism and digs on my story, when you show only the barest surface understanding of what a story, or a motivation even is.
You AND your wooden-ass tiki statue hurt me. And seeing the wounded, angry little child you are raging at the storm and trying to curse it away, it touched me with that empathetic insight.
The storm hears it all. But that isn't going to stop the storm from tearing through you like a trailer park and leaving you with as the wasted debris that you are.
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Post by Downfall on Jun 15, 2023 11:16:43 GMT -5
Going dark, Max?
Finally realized you puffed your chest out at someone leagues above you with little more than sophomoric, angsty Myspace emo-bitchboy one-liners about how "nobody cares about Downfall,".... and now you're doing what Max Daemon's famous for, turtling up when he has to face competition? Run out of incredibly whiny little rants about how I should be the one that understands what it's like to get kicked in the dirt and eat a pin?
Truth is that even as I've watched you double down on every angle that paints this not as someone hungry to finally take a title that's eluded him his place in the sun, but as a pathetic neverwas pouring out sour grapes about management. You come at me as if I'm a profiteer of the system, instead of someone trying to enact change within it and elevate this title.
Small wonder you've stayed getting bodied, not just by me, but in toto.
You speak about my story as if it doesn't interest you, which is your right, I guess, but you absolutely cannot say I didn't come into this from a place of passion for what I do. But despite your insistence that "nobody cared", you seem to have missed the actual progression of where my story has led me.
You wouldn't get that, because anyone other than you that spends more than a sentence talking on Clash is "spewing paragraphs", and anyone that Uzes Big Werds is "pretentious".
Suck my dick.
More than regretting even letting you and your generic henchman land some hits on me, I regret ever spending time baiting you to come up to my level, Max. Let's not beat around the bush there. I gave you this idea. I pushed and prodded and talked shit on the Pure Cup for months because I WANTED you to do this.
Fuck it, I WANTED you to be the one that beat me bloody, fucked my world up and gave me something real to fight for. When I spoke in my first salvo, I gave you ammo to shoot right back at me, so that this could be an actual fight.
And what'dja do with it?
Some weeks it really, truly seems I helpfully give people all the ammunition they could want (sometimes even load their own pistol, since their hands are too soft to grasp it); But when I give the revolver to you, Max, all you've done is braggadociously spun it on your finger like the heavensent, battlescarred gunslinger hotshot you are... swaggeringly tucked it into your belt loop... and proceeded to shoot your dick off.
Since you also wanted to namedrop Ashley a few bits ago, Max, let's talk about that, too. Even beyond the obvious connection that I made, that Ashley and Philidor did put a hurting on me and wounded my pride, and I fought through it, fought harder and did something that hadn't been equaled; Beyond that, let's get into your insistence that I'm "not tha' same Downfall that felt like he was on top of tha' world when he won tha Television Title"
(And I'm BEGGING you to just speak like an actual person and stop mimicking whatever accent this is supposed to be.)
-Not tha' same Downfall that was ALMOST Wrestler of the Year'
I'm actually curious about all of these little jabs, Max. D'you think... naming feats I've accomplished, saying I'm not that man anymore... degrades me? Diminishes everything I HAVE accomplished?
Do you think that I wanted to stay that same person? No. I severed partnerships that were holding me back. I DID step up among the top competitors in the world and held my own. I DIDN'T rely on some fucking heater to do my work for me. I DIDN'T keep doing the same things I've always done, but you actually have, as noted above. Same old stories, same old running away, same old echo chamber.
But for all of that, when the time came and this is the biggest stage you've ever been given... what DID you do with it?
You cried about management.
You sulked that you were unhappy, same old FUCKING story from a dozen bitter ex-AW burnouts who shit on the product to this day because they missed out on a US title bout. That you were being mishandled.
You rhapsodized about how you're going to be so much happier out there now. Where you'll have the space to do whatever you want!, in the Big Rock Candy Mountain of your dream.
Cold. Hard. Fact, Max. Doesn't matter where you go, there you'll be in the end.
It's always going to come down to you, and whether you're willing to put the work in.
In five months, when you're flaking out on them and giving lackluster effort, and you get scrubbed, and the shine's worn off on that green, green grass, you could see that maybe the problem wasn't how badly AW treated you.
Because fuck you. I've seen you be handed more opportunities to stay relevant than anyone here.
So cry for me some more, Max. Soften those weepy eyes up enough that they squelch when I gouge them out of your slanted fucking head.
And yeah, I doubled up to "get the last word". Why don't you spend some more time saying you hate me for that, you little weasel.
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Post by Max f'n Daemon on Jun 16, 2023 13:49:56 GMT -5
Do you think this is some sorta game here?
That there's some invisible fourth wall cuttin us off from reality?
Cause ya've made a BAD fuckin habit of treatin everyone like tropes and personality traits just callin 'em out like it's some badge of honor ya' can see past the inviisble line.
It's like ya' think this is all fruitless. I get it's your job, bein a pro wrestler and all, but there's no story here. This isn't a novel where in the last chapter, the good guy wins or the bad guy gets his comeuppance.
This is reality.
Ya' don't know shit about people, or at least ya' don't know near as much about 'em as ya' think ya' do.
And I'm startin ta' think it's cause ya' don't know who YOU fuckin are.
I mean, did the Downfall who willingly accepted the cheers from the crowd or happily teamed with Dionysus for months just disappear? Was HE the falsehood? #TwoWolves was all just an act, right?
Unlike you, I've never been shy of who I've been. I've never had a change of heart from bein the fans' favorite ta' their most hated. I'm the same bloodlustin motherfucker I was on day one when I beat the shit outta nobody fucks on my path ta' stompin Noris Cranley's ass through the mat. I've never changed my code of conduct or my sense of morals. I've never reveled in the fan's cheers and when things took a turn just a bit TOO far the wrong way, start beatin up people who I considered allies or friends.
And before ya' mention it, me oustin the Rulers doesn't count. Ya' have ta' consider people on your same level before they can be considered allies, or unknown forbid, FRIENDS.
And you're not on my fuckin level.
For all your successes, for all your accomplishments, all the bullet points on your resume, it won't change one simple fact.
Comin outta this match, I'll still be the person people will remember more.
I've got guaranteed, lucrative contracts in two other better promotions.
I'm over in Japan daily in a tournament raisin my stock.
I participate in various interpromotional matches all over the fuckin world.
I'm makin my fuckin name MEAN somethin.
Max fuckin Daemon is becomin a worldwide icon, but Downfall?
Nobody truly gives a shit about Downfall.
Oh yeah, people care when he's a piece of shit or when they're facin him, but when the last bell is rung, nobody thinks "oh man, remember that Downfall match?" And if they do, it's usually followed up by "oh yeah, that was neat."
That's it.
Your match isn't ever on any year end lists. Nobody looks back and remembers any specific details of any Downfall match.
Meanwhile, Max fuckin Daemon is a spotlight performer. I don't perform regularly on Clash every week because I'm a goddamn attraction. Action Wrestling knows it. Torture knows it. My schedule has been light as FUCK in AW this year, and it's because I'm worth every inch of the paper that money is printed on.
When I win this match, all everyone's gonna remember is that Max fuckin Daemon finally turned that corner. He finally won and made all the hard work, all the build-up, all the dedication beforehand worth it.
Nobody's gonna remember who he beat beyond a factoid. An answer to a trivia question. A co-Match of the Year nom at the very most.
If.
And I can stop stress that word enough.
If...in your attempts at trying ta' win...IF...ya' do pick up the victory here, everyone will go right on back ta' not carin. Downfall's still the Hardcore Champion, business as usual. What else is on Clash? Oh Torture's givin Jake Paul a blowjob and Jill Park is jealous? That sounds MUCH more rivetin than watchin Downfall for four segments stress out while hearin the same commercial for Burger King.
I'm leavin in a four months. I'd LOVE ta' win that Hardcore Title and show ya' what true deathmatch wrestlin is versus the pussy shit ya've faced since ya've won it. But I don't NEED this.
I didn't face ya' because of the championship, nah.
I wanted ta' face ya' cause I'm tired of you as a performer.
I'm tired of you as a person!
I'm tired of you as a human being!
I'm a fuck-up, sure, but where do ya' really think I'm the poster child for it? Not even on-screen, but off it!
I've lost relationships, sure! I've been addicted ta' some shit, sure!
But compared ta' YOU, I look like Mother fuckin Theresa! My personal dealings are NO competition compared ta' all the shit ya've gotten inta'!
But still ya' have the balls ta' stand here and belittle me? Ta' treat me as lesser?
Ta' treat this like some sorta story?
Nah!
This is real.
And I'm gettin real tired of ya'.
So keep on diabtribin. Keep on callin out perceived tropes or traits. Keep on it man, you're ridin your train pretty fast towards the brick wall.
But know that it won't change the absolute garbage life ya've built up and tried ta' alleviate as of recent.
Cause once the bell rings, whoever's holdin that championship won't change anythin.
I'm still Max fuckin Daemon, headin towards new heights across the globe.
And you're still Downfall, headin towards...well...it's in the fuckin name, ain't it?
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Post by Downfall on Jun 16, 2023 15:57:25 GMT -5
Bwahahahajesuschrist.
Yeah. You were better off staying silent. As with every single one of your responses the last few days, it comes with a heavy side of "Ya this ain't it, chief." Yet, by your mulish stubbornness and petulant acting out, you've proven my point expertly, so thank you, Max. But I also want to congratulate you for hitting a milestone, because you have, pointedly said what you doubtlessly thought was the piercing blow to my ego just the requisite amount of times that if "Nobody CARES about your matches" were to take on a physical manifestation, it would've been a chafed dick and two testicles that've deflated because you've sucked them dry.
Nobody cares about Downfall, people fast forward through my matches and give a shrug, and you, the entertaining one, the one who's drawn every eye to him; The one who's grinded his way into our hearts and minds through relentless grit and determination; The one who's in such demand that he has TWO fat contracts waiting for him, you're what people care about. When you finally win that title, they're gonna give you a standing-fucking-O for all of your years of hard work. You'll finally, truly be validated because you HAVE shown what it means to never, ever quit.
First off, lemme ask you frankly, what makes you the arbiter of "People don't CARE about your matches/People don't CARE about Downfall", in the first place? Prettttyyy subjective one-liner, that you attempt to wish into reality; And it lands, about the same as you trying to fucking bow up in my face and say that " I'd rather be a THOUSAND Lissie Hopes than one Downfall! You're NO Lissie Hope, YOU! WILL NEVER! BE! JOHNNY B-CBS-Redacted!"
Boy fuck you, I wouldn't want to be.
I don't speak like them nor do I attempt to. (You wanna talk about pretentious though? And you actually defend--) I don't pander like them. I'd rather be hated and despised, and yet... those people you claim to be speaking for that supposedly don't care about me?, respect me and the work I put in and damn sure know what I'm about.
I'm me, and I'll always be me. Real recognizes, sees and respects real... but with your "I HATE YOU, DOWNFALL, I HATE DESPISE VENOM YOU" act, you're looking real unfamiliar to them.
But let's. Talk. About you. Let's talk about things people really don't care about. You wanna talk irrelevance? You wanna talk "Eh, this is boring, let's see what's on Sportscenter?" Fuck Max, if people really cared then the next time you have your savage beating someone down with a barbed-wire chair, the entire locker room would clear out and run down to the ring to chase you off. But they don't. Do they. No. You exist on your own meaningless little island.
Chuck your rocks at me, all the way from across the Gulf... and I'm just watching them plunk in the water and sink to the bottom.
But let's talk about you. What makes you so special this time that the little boy who couldn't even get through ONE Television title defense is going to proclaim HE'S the one that brings me down.
You wanna throw you LOST the Wrestler of the Year Finals! You LOST the Tag titles!, at me, let's talk about losses. Thank you for bringing up I did fight all the way through one of the toughest roads of a federation-wide tournament and beat four other elite superstars to be in the Finals, that makes me look SO bad.
Tell me, in detail, about any time in the last three fucking YEARS I've been PINNED, no bullshit, no excuses, someone BEAT my ass. And show your work. Don't be a sloppy student relying on hearsay now.
You can't.
Competitors like Corey Black, Lissie, Jill.... may've gotten over on me it's true, but the number of people that've straightup fought and beat me? Three.
But you're confident, it's YOUR time, why? Because you kicked me down a few times, because in two-on-one advantages, with barbed-wire and chairs, you made me bleed a little? Why in god's name?
At the end of the day... that's really all you have, isn't it? That nobody cares about me. That it's your time. That you're going to Insert-X supposedly hardcore statement about busting me open. But real substance, real heart, you ain't got that, and it shows.
So tell me, what're you doing differently to make this come true this time around? Because being honest, you haven't done or said anything that Holo did back in April... and... oh yeah, I laughed him off for the joke he fuckin is then... and I ended up beating the dogshit out of that man.
What else you got, Max?
That you have nothing to lose?
I think you're finding that patently isn't true. You're rapidly losing the small bits of grace and attention you've been afforded by us all to this point.
And when the sun sets on you this time and you see that once again, all of this spite and scorn was for practically nothing, and you slink away once again weeping the bitter tears of a little bitch that believed he shoulda been more, you'll have lost that last, lingering bit of respect I ever had for you.
But I "just won't care anymore".
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Post by Max f'n Daemon on Jun 18, 2023 13:36:49 GMT -5
Man, just...what the hell do ya' expect from me here?
I give ya' rage, I give ya' an attitude and ya' treat it like I'm just an annoyin dog tryin ta' piss on your pizza.
I give ya' apathy, I give ya' nonchalance, and all ya' can give me in return is a level of indifference that leaves ME wantin more.
How bout that? The challenger wantin more from the fuckin champion. A champion who is only here cause he settled on the only division that would bother ta' have him. What's next, fightin for the Women's Title, or can ya' get off the rag long enough ta' give me somethin more than bein apathetic ta' anythin goin on?
For fuck's sake, I'm tellin ya' what's gonna happen and given ya' the biggest fight ya've had and all ya' can do is say I'm "losing small bits of grace"?
Are ya' seriously that fuckin moronic ta' actually believe I ever had any grace at all?
Me? The guy who's disrespected all my opponents time and time again?
Me? The guy who threw a fuckin drink in a dude's face?
Me? The guy who spat in the face of a guy I consider a friend cause he was in my way?
That isn't even mentionin all the other brutal and violent things I've done ta' guys I respect.
But no...ya' consider this "in the bag" cause you're ridin a wave of momentum and anybody who isn't Downfall is lesser cause...ya' said so, I guess?
Ya' don't even hate me, which really just fuels my hatred for ya' more. I mean shit, I've hated a few other people before, but not a lot can compare ta' the level of give-a-damn ya've yet to express.
You're so far up your own ass that ya' believe you're immune to any criticism it's actually fuckin bafflin that anybody bothers WANTIN ta' wrestle ya'.
That's my mistake. I figured this'd be a good fight, ya' know? Two people who just want ta' wrestle decidin ta' beat the shit outta the other until they're both bloody messes and one person is still the champion. But nah, from day one of our interactions with each other, all ya've done is belittle me, disrespect me, and treat me like I'm a fuckin gnat on your neck.
Get it right, fuckhole, I'm a goddamn LEECH.
And I'm gonna suck every bit of life outta ya'. That's not an empty threat. That's a fuckin promise.
And if ya' can find it in ya' ta' treat this as anythin more than a wash, than maybe you'll understand you're not just walkin inta' this with some rando who Torture booked ya' against in hope of gettin...SOMETHIN outta ya'.
I'm Max fuckin Daemon.
And since ya' can't seem to grasp all that entails in your hyperfocused mind, let me spell it out for ya'.
I'm a violent man. I'm a ruthless and aggressive piece of shit who cares only for myself and my own. I do things ta' people I respect that make people I hate cringe in fear.
But you're Downfall! You're immune ta' all that, right?
Bitch, you're a human just like everyone else.
And as much as I've proven it the last few weeks when I've left ya' in the ring nearly lifeless, I don't think ya' fully understood the situation you're in.
You're wounded. No amount of talkin, no amount of apathy, no amount of undervaluin me and overratin yourself can change that.
You're walkin inta' this WEAKER because of ME.
I've already treated ya' to a nice dinner comprised of what I'm capable of, and given it left ya' bleedin in rubble near Billy and Chris, compounded doubly so by by the followin week where ya', again, were left on the mat in a heap...
Well...let's just say the five course meal at Evolution is gonna be a natural fuckin disaster.
There's been hurricanes and tornadoes that've looked worse than what I'm gonna fuckin do ta' ya'.
I've got footage for fuckin WEEKS, beyond what I've already done, that proves that statement true so there's nothin empty about these promises.
I'm givin ya' a desperate man. Desperate for SOMETHIN. ANYTHIN ta' get me back ta' where I belong.
All you're givin me is a bitch-ass champion who can't even give a man who' been set on fire, had nails pierced in the back of his head, a goddamn brand over his heart the time of day cause ya' consider this...what...easy? Do ya' consider Hardcore matches just another day in the office for ya'?
Nah, you're not worried about me cause ya' think ya' can take it, right? Or are ya' just unafraid cause ya' don't fully grasp what ya've signed up for?
I'm that hard reminder for ya' that you'll have ta' actually put in fuckin effort against me if ya' REALLY wanna keep ahold of that title.
I'm that reset ya' need ta' maybe start givin a shit about the people you're facin.
Or maybe I'm just a piece of shit who wants what ya' have and will do any manner of things, no matter how fucked up or immoral, just ta' take it.
I'd rather be any of those things than...whatever image ya' THINK ya' are.
At least then I'm givin a shit enough ta' not suddenly change personalities cause ya' lost a fuckin match.
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Post by Downfall on Jun 18, 2023 17:26:55 GMT -5
You're so back-and-forth over what you want it's frankly asinine.
NOW, only just now, you're back to claiming how you're coming in to this because it's a win you need, because you're a desperate man.
Nah, Max. I pegged how desperate you were about three posts back.
Remember, you've flip-flopped from how "Downfall tells tha' same old story every time," to "How dare you break the fourth-wall and talk about STORIES! THIS AIN'T A STORY!!"
Amazingly, isn't even the nadir of your exhaustive wishy-washiness.
There's the other point you've tried over-and-over-and-over-andoverandoverandoverandOVERRRR, to make in this plodding week; That everything YOU do's REAL hardcore, everything I've done's pussy shit.
As if I somehow... owe it to you, to justify my hardcore pedigree. Deathmatches in CU:LT. You're "the hottest thing going in Japan".
God.
It's actually embarrassing that this needs to be explained to you.
As if you couldn't just read my bio and shut your mouth; No, you, like an entire generation of soft, precocious little children... The neatest shorthand way to get yourself over is to brag about winning "deathmatches" in "Japan" as if we're supposed to instantly buy that as you're the toughest specimen alive.
It doesn't, at ALL, recall that kid in tenth grade who TOTALLY had a hot girlfriend... you wouldn't know her 'cause she went to school in Canada.
Because... you........ had nails driven into your head?
Sounds to me like that's another fight you ended up losing, but y'know, flex however you want.
Lemme tell ya the hallmark of someone spectacularly uncreative.
They begin by sneering that I'm my own DOWNFALL, and move on to tell me that they're the toughest man alive because they beat me down.
Unlike yours, my resume lists an extensive number of hardcore titles from the XWF to the League of fucking Fury, Max.
I INNOVATED the motherfucking House of Pain; a match so gut-churningly, brutally upsetting that it needed a parental advisory, the first match ending in a double-countout 'cause the combatants dropped due to overwhelming blood-loss, Max.
But I need to prove I'm hardcore when stacked up to Max Daemon.
Who couldn't even beat a retired PCW Underground afterthought, even WITH interference from Holo Make.
Tell me please, what so-cool-badass-hardcore things've you been doing lately, that marks you as a hard man? SAW traps? Gatling guns? Tanks of piranha?
Get the fuck over yourself. Anything you claim to've done, I'd knocked out twice already by 2007.
In all of this, between the bluster about how you're the only one taking part in REAL hardcore matches (and the ever-present tone that comes off as Jeb Bush plaintively looking over to the audience and mumbling "Please clap...")
... right there, out on main, we all witnessed you just give up.
"I'd love ya win tha' Hardcore title, but I don't NEED this!!"
"I wanted ta face you because I'm tired of you as a performer, as a human being!! 'Whoever's holdin' tha' championship won't change anything!!"
This's what I mean by back-and-forth.
First it WAS about the title... you were THE ONE that was meant to take it from my hands.
I've stepped right in and called your bluff in every way possible, and backed you down. Told you to lower the bass from your voice and watched you say "...yes sir, sorry".
Now that you've tried to talk your shit and found me ready for it, even allowing the possibility you MAY lose shows the difference between us.
You went from "Whatever, it doesn't matter, I'm out in four months anyway", then went right back to "I'm so DESPERATE that I'll do anything to beat you"...
So why would anyone give a single shit what you do from here on in? When you were given your chance to step up, you shut down, when I called you on that, you code-switched back to DEMANDING that you be taken seriously because you DID injure me!!
Yeah, look down on my life. I'm doing so badly.
Except.
Wrestling IS my life. I committed just about everything I am to this sport and it saved me, transformed me, and made me who and what I am today.
I NEVER changed that, even when I'd lost, so please, tell me, what in the FUCK you're trying to talk about.
But you. All you do is complain. You complain about Torture and Jake Paul. Complain about four segments on Clash as if that's alpha-and-omega.
But what was the last thing that you, Max Daemon, put actual effort into putting on the card? I'll wait. Go ahead.
But awwwww, ya don't like me as a man, or as a performer.
It's fine.
I nothing you.
I want you to see plainly there's no conspiracy to fourth-wall-check you here.
We're ALL telling stories here in every action we put down. Or we give others the power to write their story FOR them.
Buddy, pal, amigo... you handed me the pen to write your final story this whole week. You did that. And how you'll be judged forevermore after this whole wasted-arrow of a week in the eyes of your peers.
Dissatisfied, imminently disappointed by it's wasted, petulant little Holden Caulfield of a protag, I made it my decision to crumple that paper up and throw it in the garbage where it belongs.
Eat shit, Max.
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Post by Max f'n Daemon on Jun 18, 2023 19:20:30 GMT -5
Huh.
So it's true.
Ya' really DO read whatever ya' want and embrace it, ignorin every other bit of speeches that come across your ears. It's like ya've got a filter that takes out whatever ya' wanna hear and hyperfocuses on somethin specific if ya' think ya've got a "gotcha."
It's...wow...I know ya' were disappointed earlier cause apparently I didn't live up ta' whatever expectation ya' might've had, but...wow...I just felt angry earlier.
Now I'm just disappointed.
Downfall...in case ya' haven't forgotten, and ya' clearly have, it's not 2007 anymore. The game has changed drastically since then, and unlike people like me, who KEEP going to Japan (as documented on my Twitter that you're too old and stubborn ta' never get) ta' participate in deathmatches regularly, who KEEP participatin in bloodsport environments in CU:LT, who KEEP facin people who've held that title like Johnny-boy or Spencer Adams or Ashley on the regular, and STILL walk outta those matches movin forward ta' the next match.
Present tense.
Your time has long since passed, but since you're too much of a fuckwad ta' realize it, ya've held onta' any semblance of success ta' delay your inevitable finality.
The age of whatever type'a Hardcore bullshit ya' were up ta' in 2007 is done. The game has escalated. And a guy like me has made it less about beatin people up ta' get a win, and more about handicappin your opponent, incapacitatin them, and makin sure their life is near its conclusion in the middle of that ring.
My story was never written by ya' you egotistical madman. You wannabe person of a made-up level of importance.
Take your "gotchas", all of your logic circles ta' try and get one over on me, and stick 'em straight down your fuckin throat.
You're a piece of shit from day one and I dunno why I ever bothered thinkin ya' had any ounce of gratitude or appreciation in your decayin body.
I hope ya' enjoy havin that Hardcore Title. I hope ya' enjoy havin a position of power, leadin this division inta' the darkest corners of AW's lower card as ya' keep on doin the longer ya' hold it.
Have fun with it.
It's not gonna last.
There's no text here. There's just my voice, speakin ta' YOU.
My voice utilizin my words ta' get across the idea that you're an absolute waste of space. Every moment you're onscreen is a moment that could've gone ta' someone that matters.
But nah, Downfall is so arrogant he has ta' waste airtime just ta' look strong. Despite gettin his ass kicked, he somehow has enough strength ta' cut a promo backstage and have everyone hear him diatribe about the greatness he has because he can't just show it ta' the world.
I let everyone know how goddamn great I am with my name.
Max fuckin Daemon.
People know that name. They recognize it. Whether good or bad, they have a reaction ta' it.
Ta' Downfall? All they care about is why he's relevant, cause nobody gives a damn enough ta' know WHY he might be.
But hey, ya' believe that any plan that isn't made collectively is a plan gone ta' waste cause YOU clearly know better. So fine, whatever plan we mighta had. Whatever words I mighta said ta' ya' regardin whatever the original "plan" was?
I guess I'm okay with ya' ignorin it and doin your own thing, makin it a vanity project. Not like anythin I say matters at this point. Ya' believe what ya' want man. Ya' can take my words, take my voice, take my actions and do whatever ya' want with 'em, cause clearly whatever original plan we had doesn't mean dick ta' ya'.
And why should it?
You're the Hardcore Champion.
You're somebody who's proud of who they are and where they've gotten to. And maybe ya' should be.
But it won't mean a goddamn thing when the person who beats ya' immediately crumbles away whatever story, whatever veneer of performance you're puttin up.
Cause whatever logical fallacies and Spin Doctoring ya' wanna do ta' make yourself look like somebody important and that whoever you're facin is wrong won't matter when I'm beatin ya' inta' the mat.
When I'm crushin your goddamn skull so much that all anybody who sees your mugshot is gonna think is "oh that's Downfall? Who the fuck is Downfall?"
You've never been important enough ta' justify bein "the guy" long enough. Ya've never been good enough ta' have consistency and claim that crown.
And now?
All that's left is whatever person ya' claim ta' be.
I care about that title cause it means I finally get a fuckin win.
I care about ya' so long as you're the won I win on
I want a win. Yeah I'm desperate ta' do it.
I DON'T need this. I WANT this.
I DON'T need that Hardcore Title. I WANT it just ta' finally fuckin shut ya' up.
I DON'T care cause I'm gone in four months. I DO care about YOU cause you're the motherfucker holdin that title, and when I win it, I WON'T care about ya' anymore.
And initially, that was all it was.
But now? I realized a few promos back what a piece of shit ya' are.
It's the dawn of the final day...and Downfall...
...
...
...
Nah. There's nothin left ta' say ta' ya'.
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Post by Action Reel on Jun 19, 2023 15:50:51 GMT -5
SURPRISE!
2 ROLEPLAYS ALLOWED
1k EACH
SHOOT, CD, RESPONSE, WHATEVER YOU THINK YOU NEED TO WIN.
DEADLINE IS EVO DEADLINE - YOU CAN POST BOTH BACK TO BACK IF YA NEED.
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Post by Downfall on Jun 19, 2023 18:47:49 GMT -5
Zugzwang, (N.)
A disadvantage-position in chess wherein, due to one player's own actions, they've backed themselves into a figurative-or-literal corner, wherein it doesn't matter anymore what step they make, their next move is gonna lead to a loss.
Shouldn't be too "pretentious" to point out, Maxy, that's exactly where you've found yourself right now. And it's because you put yourself here.
You crow about all the ways you've left me beaten, injured, broken down as if you're parading about with every pawn and bishop you've taken out... but the king still firmly has you in check.
I want you, and all twenty of your social media followers to see this in the light of day, realizing that every step of this's been as a result of how you approached it.
I'm washing my hands of it once I'm done sticking my feet up the cloaca of you and your dork-ass Hawaiian BBQ-flavored Sicko ripoff, walking you around the arena like a new pair of Docs.
Here's another primer for you: Toukon, Japanese, noun.
Means "fighting spirit."
You brag to the heavens about the deathmatches you take part in "Japan", the ones you claim take place in a present-day that has passed me by.
I'm... not living in 2007, Max... you're actually, hilariously doing that "pick and choose" you proclaim is my "downfall", I've been taking part in deathmatches that're so violent that they've been likened to actual murder this year. Corey Black. Remember that? No? Of course you don't. You don't engage with the shows.
I know you seem committed (if you can be said to've committed to anything in this sad showing this week) to painting me in strokes that show YOU as the future, me the past... but saying that I'm living in a heyday dreamworld where it's still the naughties but I haven't progressed not only comes off patently false, but hollow, like you wanna show experience in wins you can't claim.
I want your friends you keep namedropping to witness you now, backed into your own corner, flailing like vermin.
You don't know dick about fighting spirit, or deathmatches, I could give a fuck how many Ashleys, Johnnys, you namedrop. Take you to an actual dojo, a twenty-year veteran who knows what real hardcore is would pull your eye out with their thumb.
It's why you keep saying I MUST be going down to you because you couldn't fathom the ability to summon the will to push past injury and fatigue and fight on... you obviously don't know how, because all you do in AW is lose.
I want these people apparently cheering you on from your pathetic little hatewatch chat to see that this was set into motion from the moment you came out there, drunkenly relapsing and spinning yet another sad, pitiful tale of a drowning man falling off his wagon.
You named the entire tune this entire time when you made it about how I[/b] was the one who quits when I get upset.
You cry about management making you unhappy... and by extension, how this title would never leave my hands if not for management. I can't believe you actually are making me stick up for people I can't stand, but you disrespected the fuck out of Lissie, Jill Park, and EVERYONE in this fed when you cry about how you're leaving here because you'll be given better opportunities in one of your new, fat contracts. You did that. And fuck you for it.
This company's done more than most, to keep you happy, to make you feel engaged.
Promoted your own 2 The Max shows. Gave you a fat payday to represent us in UFC. Bent over backward to keep you happy. Now you wanna act brand new, and to take it out on me by proxy.
You made it about how much you despise me. You did that.
You said that my story is always the same, and then when I talked about stories, you tried to cry foul to the high winds about FOURTH WALL! You did that.
You bitch nonstop about Torture blowing Jake Paul too, but... Jake Paul hasn't been on fucking television for over a month Max, do we actually have to sit you down and clamp your eyelids open to make you pay attention to the shows?
You flip-flopped from I've never been important enough to be the man, that NOBODY CARES ABOUT DOWNFALL, to actually quoting enough of my history and attempting to spin it that you came off looking like a fan. You did that.
And NOW you wanna talk about what "the plan" was. You wanna cry that it never should've been like this!! We could have had something special!
No. Fuck you. Don't try that now.
Every response you received from the start of this week- this MONTH, even, since you started already coming at me sideways talking about how I'm a quitter, has been because of you. Of your actions.
Now you're in damage control.
Now, you ran into the problem that you can't high-road me. So you tried to get petty, but you can't out-petty me, either.
You started off like you had that fuckin' dawg in ya and you didn't think that I was gonna see that yipping little Chihuahua and euthanize it.
I DID want a fired-up Max Daemon, I wanted that heavensent demon bounty hunter, knockout artist badass; The guy who won, per your bio, the *gosh-darn* World Title on his first night.
We haven't seen him in a long, loooong time. We still aren't seeing him, now.
Yeah. We could've written an evocative, violent, bloodthirsty masterpiece that left people talking about how badass both of us were, how buzzworthy the Hardcore division really is.
Instead, you pushed it here, now I've got no sympathy for you.
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Post by Downfall on Jun 19, 2023 19:09:36 GMT -5
And here I go again, playing to type, "getting the last word", casting myself as the devil you so obviously are going to go on from here and proclaim me as. Because we know that's in vogue now. Bitterness and schadenfreude is literally all you've brought to the dance this week, and you now wanna squawk that I'm treating you rough.
In the end, Max... there's one (and ONLY. one) thing you've said that is correct, that you are a LEECH.
Good shit, man.
You are, indeed, a bloodsucking, minor parasite, that cannot subsist anywhere outside of shallow, mucky freshwaters which aren't deep enough to swim in and you can cause a slight sense of sickness... but ultimately, you're just an irritant.
But of everything you've tried to make the case for me being a piece of shit for now, and you will most likely speak out about in the future when you try to present your one-sided warning, the most you are going to say is that I'm intense, that I made all of our segments about me, that I didn't care what you wanted from this, when I started out by handing you a mic and letting you speak your god damn mind to me the first week of June and you began it by saying that Johnny Bacchus is better than me.
You wanted me to quit on this feud from the get-go. Bringing me to your level is the only way you can gain any ground. But you fucked up. Because that makes your entire motivation for facing me wholly unrelatable.
I've never hid the fact that I'm a villain deep at heart, Max. Not the "EDGY", that's when the darkness in me began. The evil. When I said "No we can't to the Bob The Builder" theme song, villain you try to portray yourself as. ("ME, THA' GUY WHO THREW MY DRINK IN A MAN'S FACE??) But as a real, true, venomous, nasty piece of work.
But I don't pretend to be, I never actually did pretend to be someone else, even when I tagged with Dion; I never pandered or presented myself as a moralistic hero.
But you made this all about how you dislike me as a person, and in trying to make yourself feel better, and appease your desperation in your life from where you let your career stagnate, you're gonna take it out on someone you deem objectively worse. Which makes everything you're doing infinitely more pathetic than you could ever paint me.
You're desperate enough to do anything to finally get a win, and it's a win over me you NEED? Rad. But the problem with that is, a desperate man never actually gets what he really, truly wants.
And in the end, the desperation... it's all on you, 'cause it's all because of you, you sister-fucking weirdo.
But my response to this rank cowardice and pettiness is simple.
You don't step in my house, and disrespect me.
And you may have TRIED to paint me out as the worst person you ever have met, but you've only increased the amount of rage I've had bubbling over from this entire month until such time as I could legally get my hands on you and fuck you in the street. I don't care if AW sanctioned the stipulation, I'm MAKING you quit on me.
I'm going to ragdoll you from one bell to the next and rip the admission that you never had what it takes from your unsettling, uncanny valley-level fucked up teeth.
But in all fair consideration, there's another point you were right about, I see it now.
We SHOULDN'T have ever done four segments on Clash.
(And I, absolutely, had total control of putting Burger King ads in there, gosh, I'm so fucking sorry about... advertising.)
No. We never shoulda interacted on any of the cards, ever.
Instead of people quoting the Hardcore title buildup as what they looked forward to most of the night, we should've just done as much to promote it, speak our mind, lay the stakes as FPV/Shaw.
One last time, go fuck yourself, you ugly troglodyte. I'm constantly torn between roasting you for looking like a school shooter in that trenchcoat and roasting you for looking like you'd get caught touching yourself in a movie theater.
In the end, I'm not even mad that you made your central MO for attacking your way into this title shot a defiant attempt at a Summer of A Punkass.
I'm just going to look down at you you as they load your mangled body onto a stretcher and give the same answer Lissie gives you every time you fill her DM's with 23 unanswered texts of "Hey. Hey. Fuck you then you ugly cunt. ...Hey." (followed by an unflattering dick pic.)
The same response people give you when they're asked about Max Daemon's entire career. "...I'm just... disappointed."
So bring your Nintendo-swiped "dawn of the final day" catchphrase from a shitty Zelda game and think you stuck the landing; When all you've done this week is try every tactic in your arsenal to promote yourself as on my level, and you couldn't end up looking any more low-rent.
Remember: You put yourself here, as you always have.
Yeah, dawn of the final day.
Checkmate, bitch.
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Post by Max f'n Daemon on Jun 20, 2023 0:51:53 GMT -5
Max Daemon exits the recording booth. He rips off the lavalier mic, tossing it to the ground. "Max. Hey, Max!" one of the cameramen call. Max ignores them. Holo steps up to his side. They begin to exit the studio. "Have you listened to what Downfall just said about you?" the cameraman asks. …how else would you know what he said but by listening to it…?
He follows The Dirge as they navigate through the AW Headquarters. “I don’t fuckin care what more he has ta’ say ta’ me,” Max utters. “I have nothin more ta’ say ta’ him.”
The cameraman keeps pace despite the otherwise neutral look on Max’s face. “Oh come on! Surely Max fuckin Daemon has more ta’ say, right?”
Max rolls his eyes, which is enough of a signal for Holo to grab the camera. The feed cuts off before much else. ------------------------------------------------------------
Max sits at one of the local bars, drinking a bottle of beer. Once he finishes the…apparently fifth bottle, he sets it down. You’re an alcoholic, Max.
Max responds with a burp. Classy. “Fuck off,” Max mumbles.
The bartender raises an eyebrow at that. In response, they turn around and retract the sixth bottle of beer they were about to offer. Max just sighs. He grabs a nondescript amount of bills from his pocket and carelessly tosses them into the collection of bottles, knocking them over like bowling pins. Oh look, a strike.
Max starts to speak as exits the bar. “Why the fuck are ya’ here?” he asks. “Are ya’ some kinda conscience? Cause I’m pretty there’s worse fuckers out there than me.” Nah I ain’t your conscience. I’m just a mostly omniscient narrator. “Okay, if you’re so ‘mostly omniscient’, tell me the secret ta’ beatin Downfall.” Thaaaaat's where the ‘mostly’ comes into play. “What luck. I’ve got a mysterious voice in my head and they can’t even help me where I need it.”
… … …but do you really need it? “I mean, ya’ ask anybody and they’ll tell ya’ yes.” Fuck anybody.
Max rips a cigarette from a homeless man. He takes a quick puff of it before returning it to its owner. Max continues his trek back to his rental car looking more lost than ever. “I do fuck anybody…" Ha.
But seriously, why do you care what other people think so much?“Cause there’s not really much else I’ve got. Not like I’m a beacon of confidence or anythin.” Oh, because you’ve lost some matches? “Some is an understatement.” Wow, you broke your fucking mind because you couldn’t beat some guys? “When ya’ make winnin your only goal, your only sight, your only intention, what makes ya'…ya’ know…you…shit, maybe so Magic Man.” It’s Josh. “I don’t care. If you’re not gonna actually help me against Downfall than ya’ can just fuck off like everybody else.” So that’s it? You’re a dead man walking into this? “No one here deserves to die except for me and the monster I created.” Shut up, Heather.
Max stops. He can spot his rental car with Holo in the front seat taking a nap. He narrows his eyes at the expression. Narrows his eyes in familiarity… Yeah, genius, I used to be David’s narrator too. I’ve traveled around a bit and you’re easily the biggest bitch I’ve seen, worse than a masked fuck who didn’t even KNOW how to wrestle yet still WON most of his matches.
Max clenches his fist. You haven’t won some matches. Whoop dee fuckin doo. Wrestling is a goddamn treasure trove of possibilities. And in case you’ve forgotten, this is kinda your specialty. Downfall might hold the crown. He might hold all the power here. Hell, he might even hold your balls in his hands…
Max starts to continue his trek. …but you know what he doesn’t have…? “Your fantastic bedside manner?” He’s not Max fucking Daemon.
Again, Max pauses. His foot stops mid-air as if hesitant to continue. Max, the same guy who’s gone toe-to-toe with the best fighter in the world in his own environment with no fear in his eyes and the confidence of a world class champion.
Max, the same guy who keeps on participating in deathmatches despite his body telling him no, but violence is all he knows he’s good at.
Max, the same guy who would rather admit LIKING the three people he’s grown to hate more than anybody if it means Downfall is brought down a peg.“I’ve never admitted ta’ likin ‘em…” I’m omniscient.
Try harder.“Okay…so say what you’re sayin is true.” It is. “Okay…so what you’re sayin is true. I’m gonna face Downfall and beat his ass around the arena until that title is mine. I’ve already given up everythin ta’ win Havoc, and I didn’t. So now all that’s left is…what…a husk of a man?” Nah. “Oh, right, there’s also a broken mess of a guy left talkin ta’ voices in his head.” Also nah. “Than what? The fuck else is there for me? I’m a goddamn deathmatch duke, not whatever Downfall wants ta’ be if it suits him in any given moment.” You’re unbearably naïve. “We’re done here.”
Max continues his walk. Have you ever thought that maybe you just need to change who you are as a person? That maybe there was a reason I came here? “We both know ya’ didn’t have a choice.” Even if I didn’t, that doesn’t change that you’ve gone so long being one of the biggest pieces of shits walking this Earth.
Max 'tsks' as he opens the driver’s door. Perhaps you just need to learn that breaking is what it’ll take to finally beat someone like Downfall?
Max rolls his eyes and gets into the car. “The moment I change who I am is the moment I’ve already lost.” But you’ve already lost!
Max pauses for a few moments before starting the car. Perhaps putting on the white hat might be what it takes to finally win?
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Post by Max f'n Daemon on Jun 20, 2023 1:37:00 GMT -5
Max Daemon enters the Montreal house with the sole intention of asking for advice. When he stands toe-to-toe with his Uncle, he suddenly…stops. “Well then…what brings you to my home?” Nio asks. “I…I’m lookin for some advice…” Max mumbles.
Nio shakes his head and offers him a recliner. Max doesn’t take it. Nio rolls his eyes. “Right. You’re too proud or some shit. Look, I don’t have a lot of time right now, so make this quick.” “I need help beatin someone.” “In a match or for a job?” “……both?”
Nio shakes his head in disappointment but otherwise continues. “Who?” “Downfall.”
Nio lets a quick “HA!” that shocks Max a bit. “Ha?” Yes.
HA!“You’re worried about Downfall?” “I’m not underestimatin him, if that’s what ya’ mean.” “Drop the fucking accent. Please.”
Max scowls, crossing his arms and placing them closer to the pistols in his pockets. “And hands off the pistols. Have some fucking decorum when you’re in my house.”
Max complies, but the scowl deepens. “Downfall is a collection of ideas and concepts that all culminate together into what he thinks is a good idea. What he believes can claim the victory. The guy doesn’t have an original bone in his body yet he’s soooo bad-ass that everything he says must be fact.”
Max narrows his eyes. “And he’s got you running scared?” “No.” “Bullshit. You’re asking me for advice because I participated in the same promotion as him. Never mind that we never interacted. I just have this notion of who he is. And he isn’t somebody to worry about.” “I don’t believe that.” “Then believe this: whatever he says can be reduced to lies he barely believes himself. The more he talks, the more you know you got to him. How much has been talking?” “He…” …hasn’t really shut up? “…hasn’t really shut up.” “Good. That means you’re under his skin. He’s worried he’s gonna lose this match. That’s the first step.” “What’s the second step?” “Actually winning, duh. There’s my advice. Enjoy it.”
Nio sidesteps Max, but Max grabs his uncle’s shoulder. “Wait, that’s it? No advice on how ta’ beat him” “I thought I told you to—” “Hey! Fuckin genius! I’m talkin here!”
Nio narrows his eyes as Max tightens his grip on the shoulder. “So nobody knows how ta’ beat Downfall? I swear, between the two of ya’ it feels like all you’re here for is ta’ shit on me just like him. What’s next, gonna insult me personally and then act like I’m just supposed ta’ sit here and take it like a good boy? Fuck that. And fuck you! I came here hopin ya’ could help me, but nah…I guess you’re just like everyone else.”
Max lets the shoulder go. Before he exits the house, Nio says one last thing. “You’re not broken.” “What?” Max turns quickly at the statement. “You’re breaking. But not broken. Not yet.”
Max rolls his eyes. Listen to him.“Normally I’d say try to stop it. Save yourself. Use what you know to beat Downfall, but…” …none of it’s worked. “…none of it’s worked?” Max asks hesitantly, reluctantly repeating the statement, albeit questioningly. Nio nods. “So…?” Max asks. “Break.”
Max feels another crack. “…the fuck?” “Break,” Nio repeats himself. “That’s stu—” Genius. “What?!” Max asks incredulously. He’s right.
“It’s not stupid,” Nio says, oblivious to the other conversation going on. “You’ve tried everything right? You’ve tried outwrestling opponents. You’ve tried out-hardcoring opponents. You’ve tried outsmarting your opponents. And at the end of the day, the result is still Max Daemon on his back with another loss. So what’s next, more of the same?”Max tries to turn away again. Just fucking listen for once!
Max wants to leave, but still continues to oblige. “We both know the definition of insanity. And I know you’re not insane. Despite your best efforts to convince everybody, all anybody sees is a fuckboi edgelord trying his best to stand-out in a sea of people who don’t give a shit. And against someone like Downfall who thrives on tearing that kinda shit down, what’s left for you? More of the fucking same.”
Max turns the doorknob as slow as he can. “So change the game. Embrace the narrative. Fucking break. It’s an unknown result, sure, but…it can’t be any worse than what’s happened recently.”
The door opens. Max quickly makes his way to his rental car and hightails it out of Montreal as fast he can. ----------------------------------------------------------
What are you afraid of? “What?” Max asks.
It was nearing midnight as Max finally approached the New York state line and Josh’s question was the first thing asked in HOURS. What are you afraid of? “I’m not answerin that.” Losing? Nah…maybe it’s the unknown. “Fuck the unknown.” I know Downfall’s fucked with you some more, and the cracks are REALLY starting to form, but maybe if you answer this question it’ll help. “No.” Too bad, bitch. I ain’t leaving until you answer it. So tell me. “Fuck off.”
… … Holy shit. “Shut…the fuck…up.” You’re not afraid of any of that. Not even Downfall as much of a bitch-ass he he’s been.
Nah.
You’re afraid you might like who you become.“Have ya’ lost your fucking mind? I don’t give a shit about who I'd be! What the fuck makes you believe I give a damn about any of that?” Because you lost your accent mid-sentence.
Max seemingly chokes on his spit. The only bad thing that can come out of you breaking is you aren’t who you were. And I assure you, that is NOT a negative. “There is one.” What could possibly be so bad that it’s not worth…this? “If I’m not who I am now…than I won’t know if I can even win like this anymore.” If you don't fully break, than you won’t know. But it’s worth the fucking risk if it means a win. Don’t you agree? “……………” There we go. About time you stopped being a coward.
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