Post by Dionysus on Mar 4, 2018 19:12:51 GMT -5
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“And suddenly you know: It's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.”
― Meister Eckhart
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The scene opens to the interior of the newly opened Coliseum Wrestling Academy, lively with fresh faces. It was the opening day of the academy, with the very first class since its revival in attendance. They numbered twelve total and varied in age, gender, and size. As the camera panned around, the notably young face of Scout was seen sitting in a chair, where two rows of chairs were set up. He was wringing his hands in apprehension, unsure of who to speak to.
The sound of the office door closing signaled to everyone to take their seats, as the staff of the academy made their way to the ring. Dion Necurat, better known as Dionysus, led the group, with a middle-aged middle-eastern man, a mohawk-wearing native American, and a younger man in a suit. The three other men stood behind Dionysus as he addressed the group of hopefuls. His expression was serious, grim, filled with a hardness of a drill sergeant, though his words were calm. “Welcome to the Coliseum Wrestling Academy. Here, you will learn how to compete, how to handle your contract negotiations, and how to make yourselves larger than life characters. That’s what I want to say,” Dion began. “However, it isn’t going to be as easy as that. I hope you all thought long and hard about joining us today, because we are not going to make this easy for you. You will cry, you will sweat, you may even bleed in this ring. You will do anything and everything to make sure that you,” he paused, pointing for emphasis, “become the competitor you want to be. I’m not interested in whiners, complainers. I’m not interested in making entertainers. I am here to create warriors. If you want a career, then prepare yourselves well. If you’re just looking for a paycheck…” he paused again, this time pointing toward the door. “Well, you can take your exit. We’ll contact you about a refund.”
Every student looked at each other, confused. Two of the students, a larger man and a petite woman, stood up immediately, scowling at Dion, before heading out of the gym. Scout looked around nervously, slowly beginning to stand up. He was immediately startled by the gymnasium door slamming. He turned to face Dion.
“Now then…” Dion continued, allowing a sly grin to cross his face. “Whose ready for the REAL opening speech?”
The remaining students relaxed in a nervous chuckle, applauding while the staff laughed heartily. “See, this is part of being a professional wrestler,” Dion continued. “I made you guys believe that this was going to be a grueling training period. We want you guys to have fun with this too; after all, if you’re not having fun, then why are you even here?”
Dion started to walk the length of the ring, examining each student that remained. “Each of you wanted to join because you wanted to know what it was like to be a professional wrestler. Whether you’re here for one day, or you decide you want to make a living at this, we’re all here for the sake of the art. You’re going to be learning a lot, and it certainly isn’t going to be easy. You’re going to go home tired, you’ll be sore, you’ll be worn down both physically and mentally. We have a few rules for our gym and for our classes. Rule number one,” Dion said, holding up one finger. “Listen to your coaches. We’re here to help you out, and you might not like what we have to say. Just remember, we want you guys to be successful, and these lads have years of experience, both in professional wrestling and other combat sports. Take their pointers to heart. Rule number two,” he continued, holding up a second finger. “Look out for each other. Wrestling is about working together to make each other look good. Just starting out, you’re going to botch moves and botch spots. Don’t point blame; you’re both responsible for the move. Analyze what went wrong and work the spot again. Rule number three,” holding up a third finger, “If you’re hurt, let us know. You signed a wavier to be a part of this class, but if you’re hurt, we don’t want to make that worse for you. There is plenty that can be learned without needing to be in the ring, so try to make classes if you can. If we need to cancel, we’ll let you know. We’ve got your email, your phone numbers, we even have carrier pigeon if all else fails.” He paused to let the laughter die down. “You decided to make the time to be here. So, make sure that if you can make it, you’re here. If not, call us. One last thing,” he says, smiling. “This is a first step for most of you. Whether it is big or small, you’re all in this together. No pressure; we’ll get you up to snuff. So, relax, train hard, and have fun. That’s what we ask from you.”
Dion clapped his hands together. “Now then, let me introduce to you your trainers. They’ll be lending me a hand with training and running the facility. First off, there’s Brandon Mores,” he said, gesturing toward the man in the suit. “He’ll be running the day-to-day operation of the gym and will instruct on the business side of the professional wrestling world. Any questions about bookings, go see him.” He clasped a hand on the mohawk-haired man. “This here is Drex Vires. He’s both a boxer and a wrestler, so he’ll teach you how to strike and how to make your hits look good without hurting yourself. Careful; he has a bit of a temper, but otherwise he’s harmless.” He then gestured to the older middle-eastern man. “Our head trainer will be this man, Taquar Artes. He has years of experience in the wrestling ring, and he’ll be refining your technique. You can learn a lot from this man, so take his lessons to heart. I’ll be around periodically when my schedule allows to give some pointers as well, but don’t hesitate to leave me an email if you have any questions. The rest of today is to get you all familiar with the gym, so Taquar, Drex and Brandon will take you around and give you your schedules, diet recommendations and training requirements.” Dion noted one of the larger men rolling their eyes. “Hey now, Fat Mike, I know what you’re thinking, ‘I don’t need to diet; I’m just fine!’ Well you’re right; no one is required to follow the diet recommendations. You want to have five Jersey Mike subs, you go for it, but don’t come crying to us because you ate too much.”
The class laughed and applauded after Dion thanked them for coming. He walked out of the ring and went back into the office, taking a seat at his old desk. He glanced over at a set of picture frames that he had kept locked in his safe. He picked up one of the frames, showing a young boy on another man’s shoulders. He smiled for a moment, then frowned, putting the picture face down on the desk.
Now then…time for the real work to begin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“His transcendent sense of worth had risen and caught up to him. He did not like the world he lived in, and the people in it. He was just as much a victim as he was a culprit of the seven deadly sins.”
― Soroosh Shahrivar
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The scene transitioned to Dionysus’s Study. The fireplace, for the very first time, was visible as the chair was nowhere to be found. Standing next to the fireplace was the figure of Dionysus, recognizable by the hair and beard, but he was also adorned in a rich purple cloak, covering the entire body. “We have arrived,” Dionysus began. “We have reached the climax of our first chapter in Action Wrestling. The last several weeks have led to this point. The revolution is upon us, and what an opportunity that presents itself to me. An opportunity to still pursue after a title, and to be presented this title by a man of honor such as Bernie Sanders? Certainly, an opportunity none of us sinners should ever take for granted. For you see, this match that the six of us are in is filled to the brim with sinners. Especially of the prime sins, the deadliest of sins. But who, within our circle, represents what?”
Dionysus turned, pointing to himself. “Well certainly, I would be representing greed. The opportunity for the gold is enticing to me. So much so, that in the span of one month, I have changed course from one set of gold to another. However, it is also the potential of making history that is pulling to me as well. You see, it is quite simple, when you think about it, how the others fit into this spectrum. Take Beverly Adams, for instance. She is a capable competitor in her own right, but to have to forge on your own to make a name outside of your parent’s name…I am unable to see anything other than envy out of you. Simple, elegant, concise, much like your style of competition. Now, Rose is different. Rose has a rage that cannot be quenched, only showing me wrath in this encounter. It is quite unfortunate, lady Rose, that your life has only been filled with a fury that has not been able to be focused. Perhaps, in this match, I will be able to show you what a focused fury can do. Lest we forget, our resident superhero, TakMak The Galactic Warlock. This man…or perhaps alien, depending on who you ask, fancies himself a superhero. Though surely, his pride will be his downfall in this endeavor.”
Dionysus crossed his arms. “You see, some of these competitors are easy to decipher which sin they embody. The others…well, that is where explanation is needed, particularly when it comes to the sloth. Now, who among the remaining competitors best embodies this sin?” Dionysus paused, feigning thought, before clasping his hands together. “Ah, but of course! That would be our good friend, Thaddeus Franklin King! …Although, I suppose he refers to himself as TFK, or The Franchise Killer, or however you want to put it. Either way, Mr. King best embodies sloth. He sees this as an easy opportunity at glory, when he, much like myself and others in this match, came up short in the world title hunt. Well, Mr. King, let me assure you; your nature shall deceive you, which, lets face it, as an actor, your nature is expecting the world to be handed to you. You aspire to the top of the A-List, when your talent and desire are C-List at best. The biographical film on your life will forever remain in the straight-to-DVD bargain bin.”
“Which, of course, leads us to gluttony. And this sin falls to you, Mr. Frost. ‘Big’ John Frost. A large, Russian powerhouse who rightly strikes fear into weaker men. You are certainly not the first I have seen like this. Your words do not terrify me, your presence does nothing to frighten. Your past is nothing compared to others I have witnessed. It is your hunger that intrigues me. Your trials and tribulations that led you to this moment, to where you, and only you, will stand atop the carnage. However, you are not alone in this thinking.”
Dionysus drew his hand toward the clasp of his cloak, drawing it away from him. This caused the cloak to cut Dionysus from view, and on the return, he was adorned in armor, his signature shield strapped to one arm, and the Fennel staff clutched in the other. “You see, Mr. Frost, and the rest of you, you are not entering into the ring with a simple competitor. You are entering this contest with a warrior. I have trained long and competed against opponents that posed much more of a challenge. With that being the case, I certainly do not underestimate any of you. We all lust for the same title, after all. However, for all of you, but particularly with you, Mr. Frost, I will satisfy your hunger for combat, and leave you all fulfilled. You will all be defeated, of course, but still coming out better for it. For it will be on this night where we set the standard for this division.”
Dionysus slammed his staff against his shield, letting it ring out three times, before planting the staff into the ground. He turned his back toward the camera, hanging a cloth from the staff. Dionysus turned back, saying, “And for this division…I, Dionysus…shall bear the standard.” He walked off camera, showing a banner hanging from the staff, depicting the United States flag and the words “Action Wrestling” emblazoned across the banner. It billows in a slight breeze as the camera fades to black.
“And suddenly you know: It's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.”
― Meister Eckhart
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The scene opens to the interior of the newly opened Coliseum Wrestling Academy, lively with fresh faces. It was the opening day of the academy, with the very first class since its revival in attendance. They numbered twelve total and varied in age, gender, and size. As the camera panned around, the notably young face of Scout was seen sitting in a chair, where two rows of chairs were set up. He was wringing his hands in apprehension, unsure of who to speak to.
The sound of the office door closing signaled to everyone to take their seats, as the staff of the academy made their way to the ring. Dion Necurat, better known as Dionysus, led the group, with a middle-aged middle-eastern man, a mohawk-wearing native American, and a younger man in a suit. The three other men stood behind Dionysus as he addressed the group of hopefuls. His expression was serious, grim, filled with a hardness of a drill sergeant, though his words were calm. “Welcome to the Coliseum Wrestling Academy. Here, you will learn how to compete, how to handle your contract negotiations, and how to make yourselves larger than life characters. That’s what I want to say,” Dion began. “However, it isn’t going to be as easy as that. I hope you all thought long and hard about joining us today, because we are not going to make this easy for you. You will cry, you will sweat, you may even bleed in this ring. You will do anything and everything to make sure that you,” he paused, pointing for emphasis, “become the competitor you want to be. I’m not interested in whiners, complainers. I’m not interested in making entertainers. I am here to create warriors. If you want a career, then prepare yourselves well. If you’re just looking for a paycheck…” he paused again, this time pointing toward the door. “Well, you can take your exit. We’ll contact you about a refund.”
Every student looked at each other, confused. Two of the students, a larger man and a petite woman, stood up immediately, scowling at Dion, before heading out of the gym. Scout looked around nervously, slowly beginning to stand up. He was immediately startled by the gymnasium door slamming. He turned to face Dion.
“Now then…” Dion continued, allowing a sly grin to cross his face. “Whose ready for the REAL opening speech?”
The remaining students relaxed in a nervous chuckle, applauding while the staff laughed heartily. “See, this is part of being a professional wrestler,” Dion continued. “I made you guys believe that this was going to be a grueling training period. We want you guys to have fun with this too; after all, if you’re not having fun, then why are you even here?”
Dion started to walk the length of the ring, examining each student that remained. “Each of you wanted to join because you wanted to know what it was like to be a professional wrestler. Whether you’re here for one day, or you decide you want to make a living at this, we’re all here for the sake of the art. You’re going to be learning a lot, and it certainly isn’t going to be easy. You’re going to go home tired, you’ll be sore, you’ll be worn down both physically and mentally. We have a few rules for our gym and for our classes. Rule number one,” Dion said, holding up one finger. “Listen to your coaches. We’re here to help you out, and you might not like what we have to say. Just remember, we want you guys to be successful, and these lads have years of experience, both in professional wrestling and other combat sports. Take their pointers to heart. Rule number two,” he continued, holding up a second finger. “Look out for each other. Wrestling is about working together to make each other look good. Just starting out, you’re going to botch moves and botch spots. Don’t point blame; you’re both responsible for the move. Analyze what went wrong and work the spot again. Rule number three,” holding up a third finger, “If you’re hurt, let us know. You signed a wavier to be a part of this class, but if you’re hurt, we don’t want to make that worse for you. There is plenty that can be learned without needing to be in the ring, so try to make classes if you can. If we need to cancel, we’ll let you know. We’ve got your email, your phone numbers, we even have carrier pigeon if all else fails.” He paused to let the laughter die down. “You decided to make the time to be here. So, make sure that if you can make it, you’re here. If not, call us. One last thing,” he says, smiling. “This is a first step for most of you. Whether it is big or small, you’re all in this together. No pressure; we’ll get you up to snuff. So, relax, train hard, and have fun. That’s what we ask from you.”
Dion clapped his hands together. “Now then, let me introduce to you your trainers. They’ll be lending me a hand with training and running the facility. First off, there’s Brandon Mores,” he said, gesturing toward the man in the suit. “He’ll be running the day-to-day operation of the gym and will instruct on the business side of the professional wrestling world. Any questions about bookings, go see him.” He clasped a hand on the mohawk-haired man. “This here is Drex Vires. He’s both a boxer and a wrestler, so he’ll teach you how to strike and how to make your hits look good without hurting yourself. Careful; he has a bit of a temper, but otherwise he’s harmless.” He then gestured to the older middle-eastern man. “Our head trainer will be this man, Taquar Artes. He has years of experience in the wrestling ring, and he’ll be refining your technique. You can learn a lot from this man, so take his lessons to heart. I’ll be around periodically when my schedule allows to give some pointers as well, but don’t hesitate to leave me an email if you have any questions. The rest of today is to get you all familiar with the gym, so Taquar, Drex and Brandon will take you around and give you your schedules, diet recommendations and training requirements.” Dion noted one of the larger men rolling their eyes. “Hey now, Fat Mike, I know what you’re thinking, ‘I don’t need to diet; I’m just fine!’ Well you’re right; no one is required to follow the diet recommendations. You want to have five Jersey Mike subs, you go for it, but don’t come crying to us because you ate too much.”
The class laughed and applauded after Dion thanked them for coming. He walked out of the ring and went back into the office, taking a seat at his old desk. He glanced over at a set of picture frames that he had kept locked in his safe. He picked up one of the frames, showing a young boy on another man’s shoulders. He smiled for a moment, then frowned, putting the picture face down on the desk.
Now then…time for the real work to begin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“His transcendent sense of worth had risen and caught up to him. He did not like the world he lived in, and the people in it. He was just as much a victim as he was a culprit of the seven deadly sins.”
― Soroosh Shahrivar
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The scene transitioned to Dionysus’s Study. The fireplace, for the very first time, was visible as the chair was nowhere to be found. Standing next to the fireplace was the figure of Dionysus, recognizable by the hair and beard, but he was also adorned in a rich purple cloak, covering the entire body. “We have arrived,” Dionysus began. “We have reached the climax of our first chapter in Action Wrestling. The last several weeks have led to this point. The revolution is upon us, and what an opportunity that presents itself to me. An opportunity to still pursue after a title, and to be presented this title by a man of honor such as Bernie Sanders? Certainly, an opportunity none of us sinners should ever take for granted. For you see, this match that the six of us are in is filled to the brim with sinners. Especially of the prime sins, the deadliest of sins. But who, within our circle, represents what?”
Dionysus turned, pointing to himself. “Well certainly, I would be representing greed. The opportunity for the gold is enticing to me. So much so, that in the span of one month, I have changed course from one set of gold to another. However, it is also the potential of making history that is pulling to me as well. You see, it is quite simple, when you think about it, how the others fit into this spectrum. Take Beverly Adams, for instance. She is a capable competitor in her own right, but to have to forge on your own to make a name outside of your parent’s name…I am unable to see anything other than envy out of you. Simple, elegant, concise, much like your style of competition. Now, Rose is different. Rose has a rage that cannot be quenched, only showing me wrath in this encounter. It is quite unfortunate, lady Rose, that your life has only been filled with a fury that has not been able to be focused. Perhaps, in this match, I will be able to show you what a focused fury can do. Lest we forget, our resident superhero, TakMak The Galactic Warlock. This man…or perhaps alien, depending on who you ask, fancies himself a superhero. Though surely, his pride will be his downfall in this endeavor.”
Dionysus crossed his arms. “You see, some of these competitors are easy to decipher which sin they embody. The others…well, that is where explanation is needed, particularly when it comes to the sloth. Now, who among the remaining competitors best embodies this sin?” Dionysus paused, feigning thought, before clasping his hands together. “Ah, but of course! That would be our good friend, Thaddeus Franklin King! …Although, I suppose he refers to himself as TFK, or The Franchise Killer, or however you want to put it. Either way, Mr. King best embodies sloth. He sees this as an easy opportunity at glory, when he, much like myself and others in this match, came up short in the world title hunt. Well, Mr. King, let me assure you; your nature shall deceive you, which, lets face it, as an actor, your nature is expecting the world to be handed to you. You aspire to the top of the A-List, when your talent and desire are C-List at best. The biographical film on your life will forever remain in the straight-to-DVD bargain bin.”
“Which, of course, leads us to gluttony. And this sin falls to you, Mr. Frost. ‘Big’ John Frost. A large, Russian powerhouse who rightly strikes fear into weaker men. You are certainly not the first I have seen like this. Your words do not terrify me, your presence does nothing to frighten. Your past is nothing compared to others I have witnessed. It is your hunger that intrigues me. Your trials and tribulations that led you to this moment, to where you, and only you, will stand atop the carnage. However, you are not alone in this thinking.”
Dionysus drew his hand toward the clasp of his cloak, drawing it away from him. This caused the cloak to cut Dionysus from view, and on the return, he was adorned in armor, his signature shield strapped to one arm, and the Fennel staff clutched in the other. “You see, Mr. Frost, and the rest of you, you are not entering into the ring with a simple competitor. You are entering this contest with a warrior. I have trained long and competed against opponents that posed much more of a challenge. With that being the case, I certainly do not underestimate any of you. We all lust for the same title, after all. However, for all of you, but particularly with you, Mr. Frost, I will satisfy your hunger for combat, and leave you all fulfilled. You will all be defeated, of course, but still coming out better for it. For it will be on this night where we set the standard for this division.”
Dionysus slammed his staff against his shield, letting it ring out three times, before planting the staff into the ground. He turned his back toward the camera, hanging a cloth from the staff. Dionysus turned back, saying, “And for this division…I, Dionysus…shall bear the standard.” He walked off camera, showing a banner hanging from the staff, depicting the United States flag and the words “Action Wrestling” emblazoned across the banner. It billows in a slight breeze as the camera fades to black.