Post by Frank Venable on Sept 12, 2019 1:26:26 GMT -5
FPV RP #7 - Baptism by Barbed Wire
If there was anyone still not convinced that the Man Made Gods had the upper hand over Culture Shock, then I've not heard them since Monday night.
Culture Shock's leader, the big scary man himself Corey Bull, has now fallen to both Corey Black and myself. One of these losses was for the championship that Bull had so harshly neglected, the Hardcore Title. Not only that, but Corey and myself hold numerous wins over Bull's lieutenant, Oblivion. How many do you ask? I honestly could not tell you. With such definitive statements such as those, the beef should be done and we can move on to more fruitful pastures, right?
Unfortunately, it seems beef ain't squashed so easily in AW. Not two seconds after my win against him, Bull sicked the whole of Culture Shock on us. But we weren't going to go down that easily, and with the help of fresh faced up-and-comer RJ Collins, we were able to fight off Culture Shock long enough for my tag partner to lay down the gauntlet. One final match. At XIII. In Japan. Tag. Team. Deathmatch.
I've always loved the hardcore wrestling culture of Japan. Call it "Garbage wrestling" if you want, but the deathmatch stylings of FMA and IWA always exuded a certain machismo to me, and more than anything was a genre of wrestling that was about giving the fans what they wanted. I competed in this style from time to time, and Corey Black had much more experience. Together, we were going to eat Culture Shock alive.
But before we could do that, we'd have to get into the country in the first place. I had assumed the flight to Japan would be a smooth one. I could kick back, put on a podcast to pass the time, get some sleep, and when I awoke, I'd be in the land of the rising sun. That was what I prepared for, but not what I got.
I got all the way up to the "falling asleep" stage before a flight attendant shook me awake.
Culture Shock's leader, the big scary man himself Corey Bull, has now fallen to both Corey Black and myself. One of these losses was for the championship that Bull had so harshly neglected, the Hardcore Title. Not only that, but Corey and myself hold numerous wins over Bull's lieutenant, Oblivion. How many do you ask? I honestly could not tell you. With such definitive statements such as those, the beef should be done and we can move on to more fruitful pastures, right?
Unfortunately, it seems beef ain't squashed so easily in AW. Not two seconds after my win against him, Bull sicked the whole of Culture Shock on us. But we weren't going to go down that easily, and with the help of fresh faced up-and-comer RJ Collins, we were able to fight off Culture Shock long enough for my tag partner to lay down the gauntlet. One final match. At XIII. In Japan. Tag. Team. Deathmatch.
I've always loved the hardcore wrestling culture of Japan. Call it "Garbage wrestling" if you want, but the deathmatch stylings of FMA and IWA always exuded a certain machismo to me, and more than anything was a genre of wrestling that was about giving the fans what they wanted. I competed in this style from time to time, and Corey Black had much more experience. Together, we were going to eat Culture Shock alive.
But before we could do that, we'd have to get into the country in the first place. I had assumed the flight to Japan would be a smooth one. I could kick back, put on a podcast to pass the time, get some sleep, and when I awoke, I'd be in the land of the rising sun. That was what I prepared for, but not what I got.
I got all the way up to the "falling asleep" stage before a flight attendant shook me awake.
FPV: ...huh-w-what?
Attendant: I'm terribly sorry, but our flight is being forced to make an emergency landing. Our pilot was beginning to fall asleep in the cockpit, and we couldn't take the risk.
There's a certain feeling that comes with being told "Hey, you might've died just now, just an fyi." It probably was not the feeling that I felt that moment. Knowing I had a deathmatch ahead of me on Friday, my only response was.
FPV: Huh. Okay then. Where are we?
Attendant: Pennsylvania. Reading, Pennsylvania to be precise.
FPV: Ah. Of course it's Reading.
Attendant: I'm sorry, what?
FPV: Oh, nothing. Nothing.
Of all the places I could land, it would've turned out to be Reading. My former stomping grounds in the WCF, as well as my old home for a cup of coffee in the early 2010s. But, as is often the case when things happen beyond your control, I came up with a way to make the most of it.
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It's a broom closet that I'll never forget. The broom closet of the old WCF Arena in Reading.
For a short period of time, WCF decided to forego the touring route and hold all of their shows in what became dubbed the WCF Arena. It did the job well enough, and after a few months here the Dub went back on the road. Despite my short time stationed here, many a memory was forged here, including one painful one in particular...
I stood in the closet, having just enough room to move my limbs around semi-freely. It wasn't like this in 2011, but not a lot of things are.
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It's a broom closet that I'll never forget. The broom closet of the old WCF Arena in Reading.
For a short period of time, WCF decided to forego the touring route and hold all of their shows in what became dubbed the WCF Arena. It did the job well enough, and after a few months here the Dub went back on the road. Despite my short time stationed here, many a memory was forged here, including one painful one in particular...
I stood in the closet, having just enough room to move my limbs around semi-freely. It wasn't like this in 2011, but not a lot of things are.
FPV: This is it, Culture Shock. On Friday, The King of All Wrestlers and I finally put an end to your so-called "dominance" of the AW tag team division. When the first XIII of Action Wrestling is done and in the books, there will BE no more Culture Shock. We will end you and scatter your ashes in the Sea of Japan.
I hope you're ready for the end of your time in the spotlight, Bull. We've had enough of the cheap shots, the attacks from behind. We continue to prove ourselves to be true MAN. MADE. GODS. And yet no matter how many times we beat you or put you down, you're always there, the cockroach of Action Wrestling, always ready for underhanded tactics. I admire your endurance. Fall down seven times, get back up eight, yeah? Well Bull, there's not going to BE an eighth time for you. You've exhausted all your chances, and you've failed at all of them, just like you'll fail at XIII.
You could've made this easier for yourself, you know? You could've just fallen to us once and saved yourself the career damage we've inflicted on you and everyone you associate with. Just once, you could've sucked things up, accept your failure and move on. But you didn't. You kept going, you kept losing. First to Corey, then to me. Your lackey Claire Hawkins has won more consistently then you have, and she's your C-player at best. Is that why you brought her on board, to have at least one winner on your side? Because that sure wasn't coming from Oblivion or Slayer, and it sure as hell wasn't coming from you.
Bull, you and Oblivion get one final shot at us, and it's on OUR terms. Tag Team Deathmatch. That should do you both some good, shouldn't it? After all, Oblivion is a six-time WCF Hardcore Champion, and you were the first ever AW Hardcore Champion, right? Nevermind the fact that you did more to diminish that title then anyone could ever hope to do in as short a timespan as you did. We are all thankful that belt now rests on the shoulders of a Corey more than ready to make it mean something. But even with that, you both are supposed to be hardcore specialists, surely this won't be an issue for you two?
You're dead wrong.
The Man Made Gods are the KINGS of the Deathmatch. No one came before us, and no one will come after us. We are the alpha AND the omega. You think a simple chairshot will be enough to take us down? Watch any Clockwork Orange House of Fun match either of us have been in? You wanna put us through a table? Watch me get nails driven into my wrists and I'm nailed to the cross for the sins of bad wrestlers every where. You want to drop down on us from the height of a ladder? Two words. EUTHANASIA. CHAMBER. Nuff said.
Bull, we're done with you. We're going to give you a courtesy crippling so you'll be forced to take time off and reevaluate where your life is going, because if your in-ring performance has given me any indication, wrestling isn't doing you any good. Write a book about your life, it's interesting and fucked up enough to warrant one, become a bestselling author, anything to get you out of the ring for good.
And don't think I've forgotten about you, Lister. How could I? Compared to Bull my history with you is...more storied. When I first faced off against you, I bought into everything you stood for. You truly were The Monster of WCF in my eyes. In fact, does this place look familiar? It should. You put me in here after I mouthed off to you after you beat me one Slam. You covered me in barbed wire, tortured me, and left me for dead. I was a scared, scared rookie Lister.
It was in that closet, funnily enough, that I became a new man. No longer was I going to deal with anyone's bullshit in the WCF. I was going to man up, beat newcomers and old timers alike, win titles and make my mark. And I did. That closet cleansed me, and after that incident I made one of two big realizations about you. You were no monster. You were just a man, like anyone else. A troubled man, but just a man nonetheless. When I realized that, beating you became too easy. Every time I met you in the ring, you fell to me. That pin on you at Blast 2012 awarded me my first WCF World Title. The boogeyman was no more.
And yet that whole time, every time I met you, I always pleaded to you Lister, to the man inside IT. I foolishly thought I could wrench you from the depths of madness, get the man back from the monster. Call it a hero complex, call it whatever. I thought I could earnestly save you. So when you came to Action Wrestling as Jakob Lister, I was ecstatic for you! A man reborn with Christ on his side, what an amazing story.
Then I saw what the real Jakob Lister was like, and moreso than any time you had the mask, I was horrified.
The words coming out of your mouth, the hateful, misogynistic way you treated the women of AW, one of the strongest parts of the roster, were no different than what you said as Oblivion, but at least then you had the excuse of being a monster. Here you had no excuse, no mask to hide behind. These were the true thoughts of Jakob Lister, and honestly given the current era we live in I'm surprised you weren't #MeToo'd off the face of the fucking planet.
Then you put the mask back on. And that's when I made my second realization about you.
There was never any real difference between you and Oblivion. There was no monster eating away at your soul, you WERE the monster, through and through. You put that mask on with no hesitation, proving once and for all you've always needed that crutch. Saving you would have been a waste of time, because there no one there to save.
Lister, beating you at XIII will not be some huge milestone for me. It will not usher in a new age of my career or Corey's. I've already proven I can be hardcore with the rest of them, and even beat them at their own game. Beating you at XIII will just be business as usual.
Culture Shock, this is your final chance to prove yourself. You can have Slayer and Hawkins interfere all you want, but even with them it'll do you no good. Corey and I are just too fucking jacked and too fucking ready to take you on to waste our time losing. We've already wasted enough time on you, we're going to beat you and move on to where we truly belong. The title picture. We're going to show that little concert hall what TRUE hardcore wrestling looks like, and you're going to be our lab rats to experiment on. Enjoy your last sliver of recognition, because on Friday we're going to bleed you two dry. After Friday if anyone still doesn't think the Man Made Gods don't deserve the gold, then they don't know what fucking business they're in.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a flight to catch. Sayonara.