Make Yourselves
Feb 1, 2020 20:25:04 GMT -5
Psycho Vulcan Sentai (Kaz), Quixote Della Torre, and 2 more like this
Post by VHS on Feb 1, 2020 20:25:04 GMT -5
*Flashback*
As we stood at the curtain waiting to march to the ring for our title match, the eyes of Vulcan’s mask stared into my soul. I could feel him communicating with me through that visor. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I felt a cold, steely distance. That mask had...such...power.
I reached up and tapped the side of his mask, and he shook his head like a dog. His head came to rest with his eyes locked to the floor.
“You good?”
No answer.
“Hey! Vulcan!”
He looked up in line with my face. He nodded.
I knew he was full of shit. He was stuck on something, and it was a thousand miles away from Washington DC.
____________________________________________
So here we are. Not standing tall as the first-ever CW Tag Champions, but as low down as beaten dogs. Tails tucked. Defeated. Let’s just say this is not where SVS and I saw ourselves standing heading into Revolution. Let’s just say we saw a drastically different outcome. Let’s just say we...are motivated beyond words to recover from this stumbling block and to overcome. We didn’t win the big one in our first attempt, but we won’t slip again when we end up getting that next opportunity. No, no. Next time? We’re better, smarter, bigger, badder, and more ready. Next time? We know their tricks. We know their strategies. We put them in checkmate.
But we have to get there first. This wrestling life is about more than HaVeN. It’s about more than an individual win or loss. We make the wrestling life mean something by finding the right mix of luck and opportunity. Last week? We had more opportunity than luck, and we got snakebit. This week? We begin the process of rebuilding the opportunity itself.
That’s where the Schorg Brothers come in, and I promise, anyone making their entrance at this point in our process is not only in an incredibly unfortunate position but a dangerous one, too. I said that we were like beaten dogs, Schorgs. Well, the worst time to mess with a dog is when it’s been beaten. A beaten dog will do anything in its power to ensure that no one ever makes them feel that way again. This week at Clash, you’ll be the first ones to raise a hand against us after we took a beating. You’ll be the first of many to get mauled as well. We aren’t here to take beatings, Schorgs. We’re here to be the damn standard bearers for this tag division, and at the moment, you’re just inconvenient stepping stones. Twin stepping stones.
When I watch your matches, I just wish that one of you two would have just absorbed the other in the womb. Your greatest claim to fame is...what? Being some asshole’s in-laws? Man, what an important achievement! Your parents banged and made you. Then they banged and made someone else. Then that other person married some guy who has done something with his life, and wah-lah, you’re supposed to be relevant? Nope. No damn way. That’s not how this works. I can’t give you boys a pass on that one. You want to be something? Do something. THAT’S HOW this works. MAKE YOURSELVES. Don’t ride coattails.
Stand up. Look me and SVS in the eye and take your best shot at decking each of us in the teeth. We dare you. Ball those fists, load ‘em way back, and JUST TRY it. You’re going to hate it when you found out just how hard these beaten dogs can bite.
____________________________________________
*Present*
“Vulcan!”
Silence.
“VULCAN! Dude, you’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“The one where you go all Major Tom and float off into space.”
“Oh, um, sorry.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to take that thing off? The air…”
“Yes, I’m sure, Victor!”
A pregnant pause.
“Sorry, Victor, but did we...shoot the promo?”
VHS looked at SVS with a concerned gaze.
“You don’t remember shooting it?”
“No. I don’t at all.”
“What the hell is going on with you, man?”
“Nothing.”
“No. It’s more than nothing. Did something happen?”
“I don’t…”
SVS drifted off, and his awkward, mid-sentence silence dominated the room.
As we stood at the curtain waiting to march to the ring for our title match, the eyes of Vulcan’s mask stared into my soul. I could feel him communicating with me through that visor. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I felt a cold, steely distance. That mask had...such...power.
I reached up and tapped the side of his mask, and he shook his head like a dog. His head came to rest with his eyes locked to the floor.
“You good?”
No answer.
“Hey! Vulcan!”
He looked up in line with my face. He nodded.
I knew he was full of shit. He was stuck on something, and it was a thousand miles away from Washington DC.
____________________________________________
So here we are. Not standing tall as the first-ever CW Tag Champions, but as low down as beaten dogs. Tails tucked. Defeated. Let’s just say this is not where SVS and I saw ourselves standing heading into Revolution. Let’s just say we saw a drastically different outcome. Let’s just say we...are motivated beyond words to recover from this stumbling block and to overcome. We didn’t win the big one in our first attempt, but we won’t slip again when we end up getting that next opportunity. No, no. Next time? We’re better, smarter, bigger, badder, and more ready. Next time? We know their tricks. We know their strategies. We put them in checkmate.
But we have to get there first. This wrestling life is about more than HaVeN. It’s about more than an individual win or loss. We make the wrestling life mean something by finding the right mix of luck and opportunity. Last week? We had more opportunity than luck, and we got snakebit. This week? We begin the process of rebuilding the opportunity itself.
That’s where the Schorg Brothers come in, and I promise, anyone making their entrance at this point in our process is not only in an incredibly unfortunate position but a dangerous one, too. I said that we were like beaten dogs, Schorgs. Well, the worst time to mess with a dog is when it’s been beaten. A beaten dog will do anything in its power to ensure that no one ever makes them feel that way again. This week at Clash, you’ll be the first ones to raise a hand against us after we took a beating. You’ll be the first of many to get mauled as well. We aren’t here to take beatings, Schorgs. We’re here to be the damn standard bearers for this tag division, and at the moment, you’re just inconvenient stepping stones. Twin stepping stones.
When I watch your matches, I just wish that one of you two would have just absorbed the other in the womb. Your greatest claim to fame is...what? Being some asshole’s in-laws? Man, what an important achievement! Your parents banged and made you. Then they banged and made someone else. Then that other person married some guy who has done something with his life, and wah-lah, you’re supposed to be relevant? Nope. No damn way. That’s not how this works. I can’t give you boys a pass on that one. You want to be something? Do something. THAT’S HOW this works. MAKE YOURSELVES. Don’t ride coattails.
Stand up. Look me and SVS in the eye and take your best shot at decking each of us in the teeth. We dare you. Ball those fists, load ‘em way back, and JUST TRY it. You’re going to hate it when you found out just how hard these beaten dogs can bite.
____________________________________________
*Present*
“Vulcan!”
Silence.
“VULCAN! Dude, you’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“The one where you go all Major Tom and float off into space.”
“Oh, um, sorry.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to take that thing off? The air…”
“Yes, I’m sure, Victor!”
A pregnant pause.
“Sorry, Victor, but did we...shoot the promo?”
VHS looked at SVS with a concerned gaze.
“You don’t remember shooting it?”
“No. I don’t at all.”
“What the hell is going on with you, man?”
“Nothing.”
“No. It’s more than nothing. Did something happen?”
“I don’t…”
SVS drifted off, and his awkward, mid-sentence silence dominated the room.