Post by Spencer Adams on Feb 25, 2018 23:25:09 GMT -5
Part 1: T(F)KO
(2/19/18)
(2/19/18)
Come on, motherfucker….you won’t deny me this!
There’s always this extra little boost of adrenaline I can feel flowing through my bloodstream in moments like these, when I’m up here all alone overlooking the opponent..being just moments away from the one who kills all of their optimism in a single leap.
Chris Avery: It's the Quarantine!!
Checkmate!
Billy: He goes for the cover!
1....2....3!!!
Usually, I’m not the one to spin a web describing the details of my sex life, especially not in this setting, but let me tell you that no pussy has ever gotten me as hard the ref’s hand hitting the canvas a third time.
DING DING DING
Chris Avery: Wow! What a match!
Billy: These two fought a match to be remembered, but for TFK this is the end of the road in this world title tournament. Spencer advances to the semifinals on next week's Clash!
Sitting up, I can already feel the short term effects of a victory well deserved. Now, I’d love to go to the back and rest up now that they’ve cut to commercial, but it looks like I’ve got company. I guess I sorta half-expected it.
Spencer: You know, you’re lucky I like, because if it was any average member of the press asking me a question like that I’d probably tear their head off for it..but I’ll entertain it tonight. Let me ask you, why would I do anything differently? I beat Vincent weak one. That’s what happened. Not everybody thought I was going to beat Thad King and guess what I did?
Jenna Bauer: ..Beat Thad K-
Spencer: You’re damn right I did! My name is in people’s mouths now. Final four? That has weight to it. If you or anyone else weren’t tuned in before...well you are now.
Part 2: The young vet and the old rookie
(2/14/18)
Spencer: What kind of place is this anyway, man?
Dan Capello: A buddy of mine that was helping me train sent me down here, young kid named Dillon. He said it would be a little more low profile than where we were working before.
Spencer: So...why am I here and how is everyone getting my number nowadays?
Dan Capello: I’ll explain inside.
After playing a game of human snake through the hallway maze, we stepped out into a cramped little gym. Other than the worn out looking ring in the middle, there wasn’t much else to look at other than a water cooler in one corner and a couple chairs in another.
Dan Capello: I heard you were stopping back home, so I wanted to see if I could get a little bit of training in with someone who knows what they’re doing and can help me with what I need.
Spencer: Yeah?...and what might that be?
Dan Capello: When I started out here, there was a lot of doubt thrown my way by pretty much everybody. The media painted me as a joke, a lot of my peers didn’t see me as anyone serious, and even I questioned it a little bit early on. It was actually my buddy Jimmy that got me into this. I’m still sort of in my rookie campaign so to speak.
Spencer: You...a rookie?
Dan Capello: I know I know. I might not be the same type of underdog that you are, but I know there’s a lot I have to gain, even if this is just ends up being a one day sort of thing.
Spencer: I’m a busy man, Dan.
Dan Capello: I know that...but I’ve been fighting my way back from a bit of an injury and could really use whatever help I can get to make sure that when I am able to return to WCF, I show up in prime shape.
Spencer: I think you’re a bit past prime shape.
Dan Capello: I’ve heard the jokes. It is what it is. If you don’t want to stick around, I’m not going to beg you to do so.
You know, I’m thinking maybe I should give the guy a chance. This place looks like shit and I’m confident I have little to learn or gain from sparring around with some middle aged prospect, but a ring is a ring regardless.
Spencer: I did come to train I suppose. You been doing anything today yet?
Dan Capello: Just been stretching out and hitting the ropes for the most part. It’s actually my right ankle that’s been acting up on me..doesn’t feel too bad right now, but I figure I might as well get it moving a little bit more.
Spencer: All in due time.
I hear a pair of hands smack against the doorway behind us, their owner panting like a tired dog as he leans forward to catch his breath.
Jimmy: Dan-o! I’m in some deeeep shit, man.
Dan Capello: No, not this shit again! I thought you got that all squared away!
This is basically that shit when you’re at your friend’s house in middle school and they’re yelling at their mom and you’re sitting in the other room, eating frozen pizza all quiet-like. The only real difference is that these are two grown men.
Dan Capello: Why? Why can’t you just shake this shit?
Jimmy: They feel they can shake me for more.
Dan Capello: What would give them that idea? If you stopped placing bets, then you should be fine..right?
Jimmy: Well, I don’t have any money...but they know you do and I was told that since we’re close-
Dan Capello: Are you serious right now?!
Jimmy: Dan-o..please...I need you here..
Dan Capello: ...Get out.
Jimmy: Dan…
Dan Capello: GET THE FUCK OUT!
Awkward..
Dan was still fuming as Jimmy turned away with his head hung and pushed back through the twisted hall. After a few moments, you could hear the front door swing shut behind Jimmy. Dan slumped down on the corner of the ring apron, leaning against the turnbuckle post as he gripped the bottom rope in frustration. His fingers squeezed tight around it before he let them free and brought his hand down hard against the edge of the canvas.
SMACK
Dan Capello: FUCK!
Spencer: ..You gonna be good to go or would it be better for me to take off?
Dan Capello: ...Are you available tomorrow?
Spencer: I think I can make the time around noon tomorrow.
Dan Capello: I appreciate it..really...and sorry about..all that, Spencer.
I shoot him a forced slight smile and head back through the maze as well.
Part 3: Storming the beach
(2/26/18)
With bags under my eyes showing the sign of a long plane ride to Vegas, I gaze into a camera positioned just in front of me inside my locker room. I finish lacing my boots and pull a roll of tape out of my bag, peeling back the end with my teeth and wrapping it around my right wrist.
Spencer: You know, I made a name for myself by claiming myself the underdog. When the opposition would come at me with more force, more size, and more brutality than me..I was always the guy who was able to find a way or die trying to do so. When you carry that underdog title, you do so with pride. In any situation where you’re the little guy, you end up fighting with a chip on your shoulder the size of whatever continent it is that you’re competing on. That’s who I was. I did it in WCF, I did it working the indies, and I did it in my short stint with Japan.
Fast forward to the final four of this tournament and I’m set to face off against someone who wears that same badge of honor..but there’s just something different this time. This isn’t 2015 and I’m not that guy. The chip never disappeared, but The Antidote isn’t one to go out there and fight his battles from behind anymore. Playing the underdog got me hurt and left me betrayed on more than one occasion and as of week one in Action Wrestling, I made sure to start washing my hands of it altogether. How you may ask? Well, I came to realize that it’s not as much about my stature as it is my mindset heading into a fight.
Now I sit here, just under an hour away from my meeting with Mr. Deruty and I’m fucking giddy. I can’t stop smiling when I think about the true underdog in this and yes, that is you D-Day. As I speak this words, I picture you just down the hall from where I am..sitting in a chair just like mine..but you’re not smiling, are you? You’re mind must be racing as you try to convince yourself that you can unseat Spencer Adams. It’s the part that you’ll make sure the camera doesn’t show us, the part where you pace back and forth like a nervous schoolboy. I don’t need to see it, Donnie. I sense that energy already.
That’s because on top of the fact that we both know each other’s roles tonight, we also know that you won’t be so good at filling yours the way you wish. Yeah, you’re the littlest man this week, but you can’t play that card when the man you’ll be facing up against wrote the fucking book on it. I know your mind, your body, and your soul, Deruty. I know how you want to move and I’m more than capable and ready to shit on your gameplan. You’ll try to go back to the drawing board, but will find the markers are all dried up and you’re basically fucked.
If I felt like adding insult to injury, I suppose I could find a way to shoehorn Danny and Ricky in to the equation and let them take care of my light work like they did when they disposed of Vincent for me, but there’s something so pure about insuring that my statement is loud and clear. You can hang your hat on an underdog’s effort and I’ll hang mine on the fact that at your best, you were bested by someone who is even better. I’m not talking about this one match..I mean consistently, to my core..I’m the better man. I want that to flow through you and poison your mind while I go on to bigger and better things.
That’s why there will be no handshake tonight. The match won’t be proceeded with me providing you with even a glimmer of hope. When Spencer Adams defeats Donald Deruty, he will simply walk off and leave his crushed foe to wallow in his own mediocrity and yeah, I’m sure you’ll go on to be a super awesome TV champion, but when you look up the ladder and see King Kong throwing barrels down at you like a shrimpy, mustached cuck...you’ll be reminded that I’m the one that reigns over you and the rest of the locker room. When I’m hoisting the top prize, you’ll have to live with the fact that just like Vincent and TFK before you...you could’ve prevented it from happening, but just like the true underdog you are...you failed.
Part 4: Collect
(2/25/18)
Inside his room at the Jaslin Hotel on the outside of Chinatown, Dan Capello sits at a small table near the window that overlooks the intersection. He sees a barrage of taxis as well as the homeless man weaving in and out of traffic to yell presumably incoherent nonsense at each of them. Dan kicks his feet up and crosses them over a small round table, trying to relieve the soreness he’d obtained from a hard days work at the gym where he’s been rehabbing the ankle injury that has kept him out of action in WCF for the past few months.
The sun set not long ago, but the street light and rushing headlights give his view a warm glow. With the skyline looming in the distance, Dan can’t help but think of his goal at this point. Being on the outskirts of downtown Chicago reminds him of the progress he’s made so far and brings that thrill back for the forty year old rookie athlete. He’s looking to be ahead of schedule on his way back and is expected to return to the ring in the next few weeks.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Dan Capello: No room service right now, thank you!
He reaches for the remote on the bed next to him with his right hand, cranking up the TV volume to listen in closer as he shovels a slice of deep dish toward his mouth with his left.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Dan Capello: I said I’m good!
Dan presses on the volume button again, letting the sound of SVU drown out the knocking.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Dan pushes himself up out of his chair and throws the remote to the bed before making his way to the door.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Capello reaches for the chain and goes to turn the handle, but is cut off in doing so as a much quieter knock taps against the outside. Dan turns the handle now and opens the door, looking out at an empty hall where an envelope rests in front of his feet. He reaches down to pick it up, flipping it open and letting the contents fall toward his fingers.
In his hand are polaroids, polaroids of Dan himself leaving the gym where he’d been training the past couple weeks. He spins to look around him, finding that he is still alone. Dan backs away toward his bedside table and reaches for the hotel phone. Before he can dial the front desk, he hears the door shut and lock behind him. A lump forms in his throat as he turns around to face his uninvited guest and the sound of a muffled gunshot travels through the room.
Part 5: Final words
(2/26/18)
I’m just moments away from upsetting Donald Deruty, a tournament favorite and going on to compete for the world championship at Revolution. I give myself one last good stretch before moving toward Gorilla, but I’m interrupted by the man, the myth, the legend...Mr. Shia LaBeouf.
Spencer: It’s fitting that you say that, because D-Day is exactly what this is going to be for Donald Deruty. When the bell rings and Deruty has stormed the beach, it will all be over from the get go. What my opponent faces tonight is a battle that will leave him bloodied, beaten, and scrambling to pick up the pieces of a poorly thought out attack. I promise you that after this match, this man will never be the same again. This moment won’t be on that I let Deruty come back from.
There’s a very good chance that if Deruty were to somehow make me eat my words, he could end up facing Roy Speede and giving himself, Roy, and most of the fans out there the match that they’ve all been wanting and quietly been clamoring for..but that’s a big “if”. While this tournaments little guy incarnate is looking to make that dream come true, I’m waiting impatiently to be the one who takes it all away. I wasn’t the hero these people ended up wanting, but I’ll gladly be the villain that they all loathe.