Inevitability. (1,425 words)
Jun 27, 2024 17:46:12 GMT -5
“The Saint” Johnny Eden, Addy A, and 1 more like this
Post by Sicko on Jun 27, 2024 17:46:12 GMT -5
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It was the culminating point. It was the endgame, the season finale, the push to even get on the card, in years hence, was crunch time. It wasn't honey drip-fed to indulgent hedonist's mouths, you actually had to step up and prove yourself worthy of being given a spot.
So tell me, why does this Pure Cup, the fact that it's prize was kept a secret, and the eventual winner, all shake out with such disappointment?
This should've been what we were working towards all along, yes?
From the moment I debuted in AW in March, my alters were taunting, exclusively, you, Jody Madrox, holder of the illustrious Omega Championship, the rich prize that was rescued from developmental and put upon a pedestal by the undefeated, gift-from-the-gods Samoan Dynasty of Roman Gunn. Restating that, YOU were put on a pedestal, by pinning Roman Gunn, and holding a championship he'd stood proudly with, decimating main roster talent and going undefeated for, for 300 days. Why wasn't THAT being billed as important?
When you lost it to the Green, and your mediocre, unfocused hood fairytale went back to ashes on your feet and slinging rocks on the corner and whining in a strip club?
Did you saddle up, pick yourself up from failure and go after the Green again? No.
Even when I taunted you, and mocked you, and in my debut beat you so fucking mercilessly that it shocked even the jaded in it's savagery. When I targeted the Omega title contenders such as you, and Karlie, Vespertine as soft, indolent little scavengers in desperate need of a pasting. When I pounded you into a quivering mass of servile jelly.
Did you come back for me?
Or did you make a few stupid fucking lines about how you "hate that bitch ass clown muthafucka" and whine why did I even attack you. Or... did you do. Nothing. You didn't even ascend to another echelon of AW. You didn't let this light a fire under you to actually perform as a competitor, you just whined that management wouldn't ever give a fair shake to a black man.
I'm not one to downplay institutional racism here, Jody. I'm definitely not saying, in no terms, that many societal infrastructures are put in place to hold someone like you down. But the simple fact is you intentionally drop balls that are straight-up GIVEN TO YOU, underhanded soft pitches, and you just don't even attempt to cup your hands to catch them. You were shopped around to the Television and US titles time-after-time in the intervening three months since the Green also called you an intellectual dead-end who doesn't do a single thing to elevate his division or actually serve his community. You did nothing but whine about how management doesn't want somebody like you having the US title. Doesn't want you winning Havoc. Doesn't want you holding the Pure Cup.
Spoiler alert: they never will want that.
Because at some point, they'll stop offering them altogether. Because there will always be another switch with you, how many times are we supposed to see you just go back to not caring.
You've become so exasperating a case that the announcers are calling on main, WEEKLY, for you to just fucking try and drop this "indifferent babyface" act but you still, won't pay attention.
Because you were plopped down into the midst of the most softball, easy-jazz Pure Cup field one has ever seen, something that couldn't more obviously be meant for you or Muru to just have, and when it was over?
You didn't keep the fire lit. You didn't continue vowing that you were going to beat anyone to a bloodied pulp.
You stewed in your ennui, indifference and boredom, having homies around you in da club cheer as you poured champagne from a fucking accolade like the Pure Cup over a stripper's titties, but all you could do is express unhappiness and limp, disaffected why-bother. Why even bother putting up a fight in the tag match, management is pushing Sicko and Niobe anyway. And all along, a match between you and I should've been a war, should've been a blood-feud that slaked the thirst of the REAL sickos in the crowd; If you'd cared, you and I, we could've given a soul to this division.
From day one the first time I knocked you down, you should've shown fire. From the day The Green emasculated you, humbled you, broke your character down as a lackadaisical also-ran who didn't want to try, you should've been working to prove him wrong.
You should've stopped turning yourself into a meme, or into a panting cartoon wolf who's eyes bug out of his head at the sight of a simple titty, but instead, every time Vespertine, someone who WAS YOUR ENEMY, or Jessie Lee, WHO'S DEFEATED YOU A HALF-DOZEN TIMES, posted something crudely, disgustingly attention-seeking, you followed behind them panting like a horny teen.
You're actually pathetic.
And your Pure Cup win comes too little, far, far too late.
You can't proclaim you're invested now. You've got no skin in the game. If it was as it should've been, you run to Evolution should've always built towards this, towards you finally getting your revenge; Me, as your Titan, reminding you that you couldn't live with your failure, so you worked the long way around, to get back to me.
Because that's not what happened, you never intended to come back for the Omega title because you just don't believe that you're meant for it. You'll believe that management is solidly behind pushing me, that the racist crackers who sit atop would rather a homicidal clown hold a belt hostage than give a shake to a beloved street prophet like you. You only show sparks of even deciding to try when it gains you nothing, against opponents who barely show. Against anyone who actually barks back at you, you'll show your belly. Why shouldn't I eviscerate you?
Your promos are indulgent garbage, the same pointless navel-gazing every time with little variation; Less "Ether" and more, "Party and Bullshit", you truly are at the end of the day fascinated with chasing tail.
I know you'll bring your "best", I know you'll sit somewhere random with a hip-hop song from the 90's playing, and you'll discuss your neighborhood with some personality-void Black woman who's name we never care to learn; You might make another few references or callbacks to Twisted Metal, even though I've already explained and discarded those, and you'll curse the heavens that you were put into this position, and why should you try for the Omega title, it wasn't meant for you.
But this run to evolution, to Evolution, for me, has been a culmination for me, because I've grown into my role as this division's monster. I've done what you absolutely couldn't, in 91 days you never once had a showing like my decimating a five-competitor gauntlet match. You never once put up a fight like I did, in Havoc, eliminating three men and lasting to the final five.
I want you to feel that same way you did in the parking lot, Jody. The dawning horror on your face as the headlights splash over you, the shock and fear as you try to scramble away. That's what's coming for you, and has always been coming for you once I did get my hands on you.
The evolution of Sicko, from the unsteady beginnings and the commercials that stuck in people's heads, to the sickening terror and dread that you felt when you heard my engine rev and KNEW I was coming to cut you down.
I'm GOING to cut you down, Jody. That's the inevitability, what was always going to happen.
Culminating point. Endgame. Season finale.
AW has shown no reason to harbor faith in anything you have to say, but I've given them their faith in monsters.