Post by Jaice Wilds on Feb 10, 2019 23:54:49 GMT -5
Wilds is lacing up his Jordan’s, a towel around his shoulders as he winds down from a mildly decent night. He looks down at his phone as it buzzes, alerting him to Twitter shenanigans. He shakes his head, tapping a few buttons as one of the other stars flips on the tv in the locker room.
Jaice Wilds:
Really?
The other wrestler looks at him, a shrug.
Jobber:
#BeachKrew is about to announce their plans for the pay-per-view. We gotta be prepa…
Jaice Wilds:
Yeah. They're gonna name it something stupid like hashtag Beach Bash or hashtag BK Takeover or some shit. Then they're gonna announce that they're going after all the titles, and Lockhart is defending against the other three in some kind of match where we watch the other guys lay down and take a fall just so they get to laugh at the end of the night. Not interested.
Jaice stands, removing the towel and placing it into his duffle bag. He grabs up his wifebeater, sliding it over his head and donning his Order of Chaos encrested leather vest. He closes the door to his locker, standing to exit the room; pausing only to text Kennedy Matthews about his intent to leave. He starts towards the door as Camila's music is heard on the tube.
Possibly Not A Jobber But Could Be:
Lockhart isn't even defending. What a self-entitled ass.
That Guy From Before:
Yeah, well, it's #BeachKrew's call, I guess. They do what they want with it.
Wilds shakes his head as he exits the locker room. He turns down the hallway towards the parking deck, several more stars lined up near a screen along the way. Wilds shakes his head as he passes, looking back at his phone.
Camila Gonzalez:
Ryan Lockhart, you will defend your World Championship at #EFFINRAGER against... JAICE WILDS!!
The entire group by the television suddenly turns as Jaice’s head jerks directly forward. He slowly turns to face the television, wide-eyed in shock. A few members of the crowd applaud as Wilds stands in bewilderment, unable to comprehend what just happened. As Camila continues to explain next week's main event, Wilds’ phone starts lighting up like the fourth of July. Jaice takes a step back, almost falling straight into another talent. He stumbles off toward the parking lot, heading for his car.
Kennedy Matthews:
You got the nod, Jaice!! My love just got a World Title opportunity! And a chance to name the stipulation for the match??
Kennedy drapes her arms around Wilds as Estrella Luiz nods in approval. Wilds still seems shocked, loosely draping an arm around Matthews. Kennedy looks up, concerned.
Kennedy Matthews:
Hon? Are you alright?
Jaice stares off into space, a look of confusion slowly fading into a peaceful gaze of determination.
Jaice Wilds:
I have a call to make.
----------------
The following is a letter addressed to #BeachKrew; intercepted and published to the Action Wrestling website.
Gang War. That is what the four of you have made this business about as of late. Manipulating numbers and power to dominate the business and take what you want. And for a brief moment, that actually worked in your favor. I mean, why wouldn't it? Who was your biggest threat to now- #FightSmart? What a sack of shit.
You’re talking a guy who can't do shit for himself, a has-been who can't remain relevant without clinging to the man who made him, a former TV Champ who… well, who means jack shit since he lost the title, and a barely reminiscent ghost of a black man in a white man's body. Or vice-versa; who knows? Or better, who even fucking cares anymore?
The problem, boys, is that fighting a bunch of has-beens and never-will-be's has allowed you to buy into your own hype. You forget that there are silent forces out there, just waiting for you to slip up so we have reason to knock you down. Assassins in the mist, waiting for you to take that one false step to quietly end your tyranny.
And here we are. I give you this; I am not flanked by my stablemates this week. But in my honest opinion, being paired up with the Cowboys from Hell is a great fucking substitution. Let's be completely unbiased, boys; ZMac has been the unsung anti-hero of the upper echelon for years, and he doesn't slow down. Some would say it has more to do with the cocaine than anything else… but ya boi Z is, was, and forever will be a top competitor in the business. And for him to team up with the 2018 Rookie of the Year says a lot more about Beau Blaze than any accomplishments to date do. Not to say that a Television Title reign or current Tag Champion status isn't of importance; it's at least one more title than Ryan Lockhart can lay claim to.
Speaking of our soon-to-be ex-World Champion. Oh, I see you, boy. The Curse who would be king. If only you had kept some moral sentience about you, mayhaps there wouldn't be so many question marks by your reign. I mean, it took one match for you to go from challenging the entirety of the roster to suddenly deciding you wouldn't defend the title at all? What happened? The one good thing #FightSmart ever did, and it was to knock some sense back into your head?? I get that your ego is playing caution off as some sense of grandeur. But I've been in this business long enough to understand when fear sets in. And that, Ryan, is exactly where you find yourself now. For as inferior as #FightSmart is, they pushed you hard enough to second guess yourself. And now, you lean solely on a past victory over me to allow your ego the edge. The problem, Lockhart, is that you and I have had two entirely different routes to now. I continued to put my heart and soul on the line, building myself and honing my craft… while you took time off, basking in the glow of your own hype. Coming back only after selling your soul.
Does it feel good, Ryan? Knowing that your rise to the World Title is forever tainted by your inability to claim sole responsibility for it? That history will see your membership into the upper echelon as nothing more than a power move manipulated by Wade Moor for the sake of raising his own ego? That losing the title will cement your legacy as all but irrelevant without a puppet master making every important call for you?
We will have our moment in the limelight, boy. And when we do, I will finally achieve the one thing that has eluded me throughout my career- a World Heavyweight Championship. And when that happens, I can claim something that you never will- I did it by myself. Of my will, no one else's. That I achieved greatness on merit, not because someone was prone and made a victim of a sneak attack. And that I continue to reign supreme because I am a warrior, not some puppet of a singular-minded faction. This week will merely be the beginning of your downfall, Lockhart; so hold tightly to the strap you love so dearly while I allow you to.
As far as Alexander Pasternak is concerned… well, there really is no concern. Your work in the ring is shoddy at best. You have zero accomplishments outside of joining #BeachKrew. And, let's be completely honest: the only real accomplishment #BK has gotten thus far is an asterisk-ridden World Title puppet and a win over a group that is more laughable than Charlie Rossi’s entire career. You are a speck in a group of men- no, a group of boys- who continue to circle jerk in the parking lot because their whore mothers clearly never taught them any better.
It's actually rather sad, Lex. For all the truth I just wrote, I have to give you credit. You have the potential to be a breakout star and succeed in the business. I've watched you in the ring, son, and you have the talent. The problem is that all that potential is squandered away thanks to empty promises and self-serving tactics by Wade Moor; and you may never see the promise inside yourself fulfilled. And worse, you've been manipulated into teaming with your de facto leader for a Tag Title opportunity; so your light remains dimmed in the grand scheme of his spotlight-stealing agenda. Such a shame.
Which leads me to my final opponent this week. Broseidon. The Leviathan. The man I once saw as an equal and something like family- to an extent- until he sold his soul to the nearest pimp because his girlfriend left his ass.
Legit, Wade; I want to know. What possessed you to forego every bit of self-respect you may have had and trade it for a boy's club with a bunch of names that had begun to fade into obscurity?? And what kind of bullshit did you feed them to make them believe it wasn't just your attempt to manipulate your way back into the spotlight? Goddamn, Wade. How unimaginably pathetic do you have to be to pull this trick out of your ass just to attempt- what is it the kids are calling it now?- “winning the breakup”? I'm not even going to bother with the fact that nobody you're attempting to impress has a single fuck to give. You've officially joined Jared Holmes in being old, tired, and to be completely frank… irrelevant. I hate to be the one to suggest this, but maybe it's time to hang up the boots. You've done quite a bit in your career, and all you're really doing with this iteration of #BeachKrew is perverting the legacy you built to this point. It's fucking ridiculous, man. Despite your actions as of late; you deserve better than this to go out on.
But if you're going to insist on beating a dead horse for the sake of beating a dead horse, far be it from me to question your logic. Bring the full force of your little band to #EFFINRAGER; I will be leaving with the World Title one way or the other. Whether I only have to overcome Ryan Lockhart or I need to put down the entirety of #BeachKrew to do so, I will stop at nothing to show the world that I have what it takes to carry the upper echelon over my shoulders.
Bask in your ill-gained spotlight while you can, Wade. Come this week, you'll be forced to succumb to the darkness at my hand. And when the darkness falls, you will have only yourself to blame.
----------
Jaice Wilds:
Am I ready for this? I mean, I'm not you… I'm certainly not Lucious. I want to bring honor to the Order, but…
The man in the Armani suit shakes his head, downing a shot of Hennesy. He takes a moment, placing a hand on Wilds’ shoulder.
Simon Kalis:
Jaice. Look; you do the Order proud every time you step into that ring. Week in and week out, win or lose. You give us reason to believe in you. But you can't do this for the Order. We're not in the business anymore, Jaice. We have your back always. But this… this has to be for you.
Wilds seems confused, Kalis downing another shot of Henny. Jaice scratches his head, Kalis continuing.
Simon Kalis:
There was once a time when the Order was a name feared both in and outside the ring. And for good reason. We brought guns, special agents, fucking tanks into the arena. We incited wars. And it was glorious. But that was almost a full decade ago. We are known throughout the world as we should be now, and that is enough.
Wilds sighs, standing. He paces across the compound kitchen floor, rubbing his scalp.
Jaice Wilds:
So I'm alone.
Simon almost chuckles as he shakes his head.
Simon Kalis:
Kennedy Matthews. L Verez. Sam Kidsgrove. Damian Kaine. Alex Richards. Boy, you have a woman and a damn fine group of comrades to back you at every stop now. Lean on them for the strength you need. And believe when I say that we aren't gone. The Order will always be at your back, my brother. Maybe not in the ring with you, but we'll be in the crowd, on the road, and on the dotted line of virtually every big expenditure you require. Even in the shadows, we will always support a general.
Wilds nods, looking out to the common room. Pictures of the Order in its prime, Guardians past and present and even a frame of Jaice and Kennedy line the walls. Jaice grins, turning back to Kalis.
Jaice Wilds:
You're right, Simon. It's time to stop leaning on the glory days of old and start forging my own path. General Wilds was an amazing run; but AW World Champion Jaice…
Kalis nods, reaching out a hand. Jaice takes it, the two embrace for a moment. As they seperate, they both fall into a salute.
Jaice Wilds:
All Hail the Order.
A chuckle from Kalis.
Simon Kalis:
All Hail the next Action Wrestling World Champion.
All Hail Jaice Wilds!
Jaice is grinning, almost in tears as he embraces his old friend again. Simon nods, heading out the door as several Guardians make their way into the common room. Wilds turns, taking in a deep breath.
Jaice Wilds:
Ladies and gents… It's fucking time!
Jaice Wilds:
Really?
The other wrestler looks at him, a shrug.
Jobber:
#BeachKrew is about to announce their plans for the pay-per-view. We gotta be prepa…
Jaice Wilds:
Yeah. They're gonna name it something stupid like hashtag Beach Bash or hashtag BK Takeover or some shit. Then they're gonna announce that they're going after all the titles, and Lockhart is defending against the other three in some kind of match where we watch the other guys lay down and take a fall just so they get to laugh at the end of the night. Not interested.
Jaice stands, removing the towel and placing it into his duffle bag. He grabs up his wifebeater, sliding it over his head and donning his Order of Chaos encrested leather vest. He closes the door to his locker, standing to exit the room; pausing only to text Kennedy Matthews about his intent to leave. He starts towards the door as Camila's music is heard on the tube.
Possibly Not A Jobber But Could Be:
Lockhart isn't even defending. What a self-entitled ass.
That Guy From Before:
Yeah, well, it's #BeachKrew's call, I guess. They do what they want with it.
Wilds shakes his head as he exits the locker room. He turns down the hallway towards the parking deck, several more stars lined up near a screen along the way. Wilds shakes his head as he passes, looking back at his phone.
Camila Gonzalez:
Ryan Lockhart, you will defend your World Championship at #EFFINRAGER against... JAICE WILDS!!
The entire group by the television suddenly turns as Jaice’s head jerks directly forward. He slowly turns to face the television, wide-eyed in shock. A few members of the crowd applaud as Wilds stands in bewilderment, unable to comprehend what just happened. As Camila continues to explain next week's main event, Wilds’ phone starts lighting up like the fourth of July. Jaice takes a step back, almost falling straight into another talent. He stumbles off toward the parking lot, heading for his car.
Kennedy Matthews:
You got the nod, Jaice!! My love just got a World Title opportunity! And a chance to name the stipulation for the match??
Kennedy drapes her arms around Wilds as Estrella Luiz nods in approval. Wilds still seems shocked, loosely draping an arm around Matthews. Kennedy looks up, concerned.
Kennedy Matthews:
Hon? Are you alright?
Jaice stares off into space, a look of confusion slowly fading into a peaceful gaze of determination.
Jaice Wilds:
I have a call to make.
----------------
The following is a letter addressed to #BeachKrew; intercepted and published to the Action Wrestling website.
Gang War. That is what the four of you have made this business about as of late. Manipulating numbers and power to dominate the business and take what you want. And for a brief moment, that actually worked in your favor. I mean, why wouldn't it? Who was your biggest threat to now- #FightSmart? What a sack of shit.
You’re talking a guy who can't do shit for himself, a has-been who can't remain relevant without clinging to the man who made him, a former TV Champ who… well, who means jack shit since he lost the title, and a barely reminiscent ghost of a black man in a white man's body. Or vice-versa; who knows? Or better, who even fucking cares anymore?
The problem, boys, is that fighting a bunch of has-beens and never-will-be's has allowed you to buy into your own hype. You forget that there are silent forces out there, just waiting for you to slip up so we have reason to knock you down. Assassins in the mist, waiting for you to take that one false step to quietly end your tyranny.
And here we are. I give you this; I am not flanked by my stablemates this week. But in my honest opinion, being paired up with the Cowboys from Hell is a great fucking substitution. Let's be completely unbiased, boys; ZMac has been the unsung anti-hero of the upper echelon for years, and he doesn't slow down. Some would say it has more to do with the cocaine than anything else… but ya boi Z is, was, and forever will be a top competitor in the business. And for him to team up with the 2018 Rookie of the Year says a lot more about Beau Blaze than any accomplishments to date do. Not to say that a Television Title reign or current Tag Champion status isn't of importance; it's at least one more title than Ryan Lockhart can lay claim to.
Speaking of our soon-to-be ex-World Champion. Oh, I see you, boy. The Curse who would be king. If only you had kept some moral sentience about you, mayhaps there wouldn't be so many question marks by your reign. I mean, it took one match for you to go from challenging the entirety of the roster to suddenly deciding you wouldn't defend the title at all? What happened? The one good thing #FightSmart ever did, and it was to knock some sense back into your head?? I get that your ego is playing caution off as some sense of grandeur. But I've been in this business long enough to understand when fear sets in. And that, Ryan, is exactly where you find yourself now. For as inferior as #FightSmart is, they pushed you hard enough to second guess yourself. And now, you lean solely on a past victory over me to allow your ego the edge. The problem, Lockhart, is that you and I have had two entirely different routes to now. I continued to put my heart and soul on the line, building myself and honing my craft… while you took time off, basking in the glow of your own hype. Coming back only after selling your soul.
Does it feel good, Ryan? Knowing that your rise to the World Title is forever tainted by your inability to claim sole responsibility for it? That history will see your membership into the upper echelon as nothing more than a power move manipulated by Wade Moor for the sake of raising his own ego? That losing the title will cement your legacy as all but irrelevant without a puppet master making every important call for you?
We will have our moment in the limelight, boy. And when we do, I will finally achieve the one thing that has eluded me throughout my career- a World Heavyweight Championship. And when that happens, I can claim something that you never will- I did it by myself. Of my will, no one else's. That I achieved greatness on merit, not because someone was prone and made a victim of a sneak attack. And that I continue to reign supreme because I am a warrior, not some puppet of a singular-minded faction. This week will merely be the beginning of your downfall, Lockhart; so hold tightly to the strap you love so dearly while I allow you to.
As far as Alexander Pasternak is concerned… well, there really is no concern. Your work in the ring is shoddy at best. You have zero accomplishments outside of joining #BeachKrew. And, let's be completely honest: the only real accomplishment #BK has gotten thus far is an asterisk-ridden World Title puppet and a win over a group that is more laughable than Charlie Rossi’s entire career. You are a speck in a group of men- no, a group of boys- who continue to circle jerk in the parking lot because their whore mothers clearly never taught them any better.
It's actually rather sad, Lex. For all the truth I just wrote, I have to give you credit. You have the potential to be a breakout star and succeed in the business. I've watched you in the ring, son, and you have the talent. The problem is that all that potential is squandered away thanks to empty promises and self-serving tactics by Wade Moor; and you may never see the promise inside yourself fulfilled. And worse, you've been manipulated into teaming with your de facto leader for a Tag Title opportunity; so your light remains dimmed in the grand scheme of his spotlight-stealing agenda. Such a shame.
Which leads me to my final opponent this week. Broseidon. The Leviathan. The man I once saw as an equal and something like family- to an extent- until he sold his soul to the nearest pimp because his girlfriend left his ass.
Legit, Wade; I want to know. What possessed you to forego every bit of self-respect you may have had and trade it for a boy's club with a bunch of names that had begun to fade into obscurity?? And what kind of bullshit did you feed them to make them believe it wasn't just your attempt to manipulate your way back into the spotlight? Goddamn, Wade. How unimaginably pathetic do you have to be to pull this trick out of your ass just to attempt- what is it the kids are calling it now?- “winning the breakup”? I'm not even going to bother with the fact that nobody you're attempting to impress has a single fuck to give. You've officially joined Jared Holmes in being old, tired, and to be completely frank… irrelevant. I hate to be the one to suggest this, but maybe it's time to hang up the boots. You've done quite a bit in your career, and all you're really doing with this iteration of #BeachKrew is perverting the legacy you built to this point. It's fucking ridiculous, man. Despite your actions as of late; you deserve better than this to go out on.
But if you're going to insist on beating a dead horse for the sake of beating a dead horse, far be it from me to question your logic. Bring the full force of your little band to #EFFINRAGER; I will be leaving with the World Title one way or the other. Whether I only have to overcome Ryan Lockhart or I need to put down the entirety of #BeachKrew to do so, I will stop at nothing to show the world that I have what it takes to carry the upper echelon over my shoulders.
Bask in your ill-gained spotlight while you can, Wade. Come this week, you'll be forced to succumb to the darkness at my hand. And when the darkness falls, you will have only yourself to blame.
----------
Jaice Wilds:
Am I ready for this? I mean, I'm not you… I'm certainly not Lucious. I want to bring honor to the Order, but…
The man in the Armani suit shakes his head, downing a shot of Hennesy. He takes a moment, placing a hand on Wilds’ shoulder.
Simon Kalis:
Jaice. Look; you do the Order proud every time you step into that ring. Week in and week out, win or lose. You give us reason to believe in you. But you can't do this for the Order. We're not in the business anymore, Jaice. We have your back always. But this… this has to be for you.
Wilds seems confused, Kalis downing another shot of Henny. Jaice scratches his head, Kalis continuing.
Simon Kalis:
There was once a time when the Order was a name feared both in and outside the ring. And for good reason. We brought guns, special agents, fucking tanks into the arena. We incited wars. And it was glorious. But that was almost a full decade ago. We are known throughout the world as we should be now, and that is enough.
Wilds sighs, standing. He paces across the compound kitchen floor, rubbing his scalp.
Jaice Wilds:
So I'm alone.
Simon almost chuckles as he shakes his head.
Simon Kalis:
Kennedy Matthews. L Verez. Sam Kidsgrove. Damian Kaine. Alex Richards. Boy, you have a woman and a damn fine group of comrades to back you at every stop now. Lean on them for the strength you need. And believe when I say that we aren't gone. The Order will always be at your back, my brother. Maybe not in the ring with you, but we'll be in the crowd, on the road, and on the dotted line of virtually every big expenditure you require. Even in the shadows, we will always support a general.
Wilds nods, looking out to the common room. Pictures of the Order in its prime, Guardians past and present and even a frame of Jaice and Kennedy line the walls. Jaice grins, turning back to Kalis.
Jaice Wilds:
You're right, Simon. It's time to stop leaning on the glory days of old and start forging my own path. General Wilds was an amazing run; but AW World Champion Jaice…
Kalis nods, reaching out a hand. Jaice takes it, the two embrace for a moment. As they seperate, they both fall into a salute.
Jaice Wilds:
All Hail the Order.
A chuckle from Kalis.
Simon Kalis:
All Hail the next Action Wrestling World Champion.
All Hail Jaice Wilds!
Jaice is grinning, almost in tears as he embraces his old friend again. Simon nods, heading out the door as several Guardians make their way into the common room. Wilds turns, taking in a deep breath.
Jaice Wilds:
Ladies and gents… It's fucking time!