Post by ππ’π₯ππ¬ πππππ on Nov 11, 2023 20:09:35 GMT -5
A dimly lit diner is the place we pick up, there's a few booths along the right side as you walk in the front door, the bar/counter is on the left where the kitchen is, and there's a cashier and one waitress working the regulars sitting at the counter. The waitress is pouring a coffee when in walks a shadowy man in a black hoodie, the bell above the door chimes as he comes through. He makes eye contact with the woman working, points to a booth and she nods, he walks over and sits down.
The waitress walks by as Corey Black looks to his left out the window at the cold night beyond. "Usual?" she asks, receiving a nod from Corey. She upside down smiles at him and nods back, heading to the back and informing the cook what Corey will be having. In the booth Corey seems anxious, something is bothering him. He reaches behind his head and into his shirt where he pulls a thumbtack, confusing a couple of the older men at the counter but not garnering a response from them.
A short while passes, after the waitress has dropped off a tall glass of Diet Coke she brings his food. Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit on the side and a small stack of French toast. Corey digs in, systematically enjoying his food as nothing spectacular happens. Just a meal by himself, seemingly in the middle of the night and not even making eye contact with anyone present. As he finishes, Corey leans back in the booth and looks forward. Nobody is sitting there enjoying his company. Taking bites of his bacon. No fans are flocking around to get a photo. It's like he doesn't even exist anymore.
He thought that's how he wanted it. To just be left alone to fight in a ring.
The loneliness and ache of years breaking himself down have left him a soulless man that can't find joy in anything.
Corey drops come cash on the table and gives a wave as he leaves, not even getting a thank you. He walks out to his car, an early 70s black on black on black Chevy Nova and pops the door open, dropping into the driver's seat and closing the door but just sitting there. Staring. Hurting. He turns the car on and drives forward, seemingly heading to his next destination.
The waitress walks by as Corey Black looks to his left out the window at the cold night beyond. "Usual?" she asks, receiving a nod from Corey. She upside down smiles at him and nods back, heading to the back and informing the cook what Corey will be having. In the booth Corey seems anxious, something is bothering him. He reaches behind his head and into his shirt where he pulls a thumbtack, confusing a couple of the older men at the counter but not garnering a response from them.
A short while passes, after the waitress has dropped off a tall glass of Diet Coke she brings his food. Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit on the side and a small stack of French toast. Corey digs in, systematically enjoying his food as nothing spectacular happens. Just a meal by himself, seemingly in the middle of the night and not even making eye contact with anyone present. As he finishes, Corey leans back in the booth and looks forward. Nobody is sitting there enjoying his company. Taking bites of his bacon. No fans are flocking around to get a photo. It's like he doesn't even exist anymore.
He thought that's how he wanted it. To just be left alone to fight in a ring.
The loneliness and ache of years breaking himself down have left him a soulless man that can't find joy in anything.
Corey drops come cash on the table and gives a wave as he leaves, not even getting a thank you. He walks out to his car, an early 70s black on black on black Chevy Nova and pops the door open, dropping into the driver's seat and closing the door but just sitting there. Staring. Hurting. He turns the car on and drives forward, seemingly heading to his next destination.
"I've been wrestling for this company since nearly the beginning. I was the apex of the sport when it was created and I'll be the apex of the sport when it dies. Never once have I had a match on Cruiserclash. Which is weird, right, considering my lineage with Cruiserweight Championships? Net Championship Wrestling, my first big company, the first thing I did was win a tournament to crown a Cruiserweight Champion. WCF, I spearheaded the tumultuous Cruiserweight division multiple times, I give the wrestlers here spots on my big card because of how much I respect what they do in the ring. There's a difference between Cruiserclash and 201 and Fun. We still have people wrestling here that belong in the old days, while men like Teo Blaze has broken through that barrier and become the figurehead of an entire show. He thinks I'm coming down to his block to do battle, I invented this fucking block in the first place. Now, I understand your position in this Teo. You want to be the first to win Wrestler of the Year from the little program that could. The opening act wants to finally show the headliners that they're worth it too. It's a nice story, a feel-good moment that I'll take pleasure in dashing for you once again. It was about this time three years ago, wasn't it? God I almost said last year, how time does fly. It was the last time you and I went one on one, Teo. I don't know how you feel about what's happened since I reclaimed what was rightfully mine in the WCF World Heavyweight Championship, a belt that will rest on my mantle for the remainder of time itself, but since then I've lost. The Action Wrestling World Championship, Havocs, Turmoils, feuds, my sense of self worth, basically anything and everything I've held dear. I walked in that match as a King, Teo, a King you didn't fucking respect and now I walk into this one Deathproof, something you'll never understand because you're a true to life fucking lightweight. Does it bother you that people were surprised you did what you did at XIII? Not only the lengths you went to, but the fact that you won? Everybody sitting there like 'huh, alright, Teo did the thing, I wonder how bad Corey Black is going to kill Jay Price.' You were tenth fiddle on a card headlined by Jay Price. Nobody was surprised you beat Corey Bull that one time, Jay Price could beat Corey Bull. That isn't because I don't think you're good, Teo, but in this world - you should probably just stay in your own lane. You've got it made. Medium sized fish in a small pond filled with Hotaka and Freddy Whoa Jr, chums with your buddy just acting like a dude that can't wait to leave any social situation and get back to ya mom's basement. I'd tell ya to put the mask back on but you'd probably lose your name, which sidebar, always bugged me. You're a white guy from middle Texas, I don't think some jabroni nobody working a show with cattle roaming around has any authority to give you a mask and call you Del Sol. I'm surprised your ass hasn't been cancelled yet, someone get ahold of Twitter and let's get this fuckin' guy his comeuppance. Do you know what it's like to lose yourself, Teo? Like honestly. I know early on you were a boozer and you were saved or whatever, that's nice and good for you I guess, but you never were then. You didn't have anything to truly lose. Look at me. I earned a first round bye by.. what, Teo? Tell me. Why did you have to fight Jessie Lee, and now you have to fight me because you won. You know what I've done this year in Action Wrestling? Won the Tag Titles. Cool. You wanna hear about a fucking existential crisis you stupid son of a bitch? Go years calling yourself the King and then when you realize that shit ain't nothing, everyone doesn't give two shits about you. EVERYONE. I dropped the crown, I gained nothing. Everyone asks me who I am and I don't know what to tell them anymore. You're a sometimes masked plucky luchador. Me? I don't know and whatever you end up saying is probably generalized bullshit rhetoric I've heard from a hundred other dudes that think they're hot shit. You know what Matt Knox said about me? Fuckin' dick all but his lunch looked better than mine. You have a statement to make when it comes to Cruiserclash and your story ends there, bud. You want to be the torch bearer of a roster of knockoffs and that's well and good. Gotta fight for something. I've been fighting myself for what feels like a year now. Probably more. There's nothing you can say or do that I haven't said or done to myself, Teo. I picked up deathmatches again because I WANT TO FUCKING FEEL SOMETHING. I get beat by Ash Blake because Lissie comes in unannounced? I don't FEEL anything, just apathy and loathing. DRGBTQI+ takes the Tag Titles from Odin and I? Fine, I was asked to help a friend and I did, time to move on to more important things - oh wait, I'm washed and mid, legacy shot at All-In which I got fucked out of and toiling around with the Price-Jones' it is. I wish this was about two men going out there to do battle and move on in a tournament, I really do. As much as you believe it's your story, your greatest struggle, the absolute pinnacle you can get - you aren't trying to win this tournament for just yourself. And that's where you're wrong. You've been stopped short in Turmoil three times. Cute. Four years ago I ran my ass into a man named Walter. He stopped me. You know what I did to him? Say it with me Teo, I put down the mongrel. Three years ago I got to the Final Four against Howard Black. He stopped me and left. Two years ago it was Regan Voorhees who went on for greatness and then left, last year it was Sam Kidsgrove, he fucking left Teo. I have been so close to this, so close to Havoc, so close to stamping my goddamn name on a Hall of Fame plaque that you seem to feel like I'm just owed because longevity but I swear Teo, mark these words, I won't accept shit until I am satisfied with what I have done. You think I'm just gliding by on my former merits and you're sadly mistaken. You think I wake up every morning, stretch, head downstairs in my mansion and have a fully cooked meal ready with a chef and golden silverware, a tall hot blonde smiling as she comes down behind me - no motherfucker. You don't know me, you've never known me. I have nightmares about my past. I dread going to sleep because what's the time I can't control what happens in my mind. Dark clouds loom over me in the shape of success. You'd kill to have the accolades I have, I'd kill to throw them all away and start anew because continually coming up short in the places I should be dominating is starting to seriously make me rethink my entire life. I can't just toss on a mask, call myself Cor Del Sol and begin again. I can't drown myself in alcohol or play grab ass DND dork shit with anybody to distract me from who I am. You can do that shit because you really don't care about this, Teo, just fucking admit it. You're some fake ass proud luchador white guy that gets paid. It could be wrestling, it could be Twitch, shit you could be a street vendor selling me fajitas - you say you love pro wrestling and yet you're fucking content. You don't love this. You don't strive for anything better than what you have. I'm ALWAYS swinging up, I'm taking bookings out across the world because I want to better myself and better this company. The fuck you do in your off time, Teo, go to casinos and VIP tours of movie studios? Cool. Neat. I spend hours a day in a dark, cold facility wrestling when I'm not in front of a crowd. I think about driving off cliffs when I'm not doing either of those. Tell me again how Jessie Lee is a Hot Topic reject you surface level shit bag. You gonna mock me because 'hurr durr deathproof we all gotta die someday.' Man, I thought I respected you, but now I'm just realizing I respect this shit you've done and the person you've always been is just a poser con artist. I won't weep for you, Teo Blaze, just as you won't be phased when we part ways. I'll go on to fight another day in the Wrestler of the Year tournament, you'll sulk back to Cruiserclash wondering what if. Then, just as fast as I took it away, you'll move on to your next great conquest where you'll defend your glorious purpose. Just as you always do, Teo. Keep moving those goal posts. It's the only way you get ahead." |