Post by Cassidy Adler on Apr 19, 2020 11:43:57 GMT -5
‘Why did you hit that guy at your party?’ Stacy said, as she ran a brush through her bleached blonde hair, her skin a near orange with the amount of fake tan applied to it.
‘Because he deserved it. He disrespected me.’
‘Oh, right. The usual.’ she said. A sigh escaped from her lips.
‘You wouldn’t get it.’
‘Sure I wouldn’t. Anyway, you know you really upset Olive, yeah?’
‘What do you mean? I was just defending myself.’ he said, an innocent tone accompanied his voice.
‘She’s not dumb. But seriously, she likes him. That wasn’t cool.’
‘The fuck? You of all people trying to hold me accountable? C’mon Stace, you know you’d go distract her again if it meant getting another gram.’ he said, only to have her laugh in response.
‘You know I can get my own shit. It’s just easier when I suck you into giving it to me.’
He shrugged, conceding the point.
‘That guy ain’t good for her anyway. I’d gladly sock him in the mouth again if he gets involved in our shit.’
Another sigh from Stacy, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Cassidy. He felt the overwhelming need to say something to fill the silence, as if to justify his actions.
‘You guys just don’t get it.’
‘I don’t think there’s much to get, to be honest with you.’
‘Whatever. I don’t care anymore. Can you text Fran for me? She blocked me on everything.’
‘Dude.’
‘What?’
‘She’s not gonna take you back. Especially since you’re fucking everything in sight right now - including most of her friends? You really don’t think this shit through, do you?’
‘Not really.’
‘I don’t think we’re related.’
Her phone rattled on the desk in front of her. She picked it up, reading the message she received.
‘Dad called you to go up to the study.’
‘Why didn’t he text me?’
‘...because you don’t reply to any of his texts?’
‘Fair.’
He sat up off the bed and left the room, heading upstairs to the study.
Cassidy sat in a comfortable-looking leather chair, feet kicked up on an old desk while he smiled. He wore a black blazer over the top of a grey sweater. On one side of him, a glass of red wine sat, and on the other, his World Tag Team Title. He glanced at the belt, raising an eyebrow for the people watching at home.
‘A real champ defends the belt. That’s what you’re all thinking, right? Praying to high heaven that Olive and I don’t continue our reign of terror over the division by defending against seemingly the only people willing to face inevitable defeat and be humiliated again by the ONLY tag-team worthy of holding onto the straps.’
He laughs.
‘Well, be my fuckin’ guest, I’d love to dance with Spencer and Crow again, but we’ve got some not-so-new partners to attend to first. Derrick, Geri. It’s an honor to be sharing the stage with you again, because honestly? I’ve missed it. Getting the one-up on you guys has become a tradition, it smells and feels like home. Without it? I’ve felt kinda empty. It’s only fitting you guys are the first people we beat as we ravage what’s left of this division.’
He rests a hand on his belt.
‘And just like home… things haven’t changed since I last visited, have they? You’re still the underwhelming, fake contenders you were when we first squared off. And no matter how you spin it and talk about your "improvements", you revert into your same old ways - getting fuckin’ obliterated by the Adlers and looking terrible while doing it.
‘Not only do you guys fuckin’ suck at the whole wrestling thing, but you’re complete hypocrites. Remember when you sat there on your high horses, sucking your own dicks about your “consistency” and “momentum building” and criticizing myself and Olive for not being booked enough and not facing tough competition?
‘Now look at you. Your last REAL matches were both losses, against myself and Olive respectively, albeit with different partners. Then you show up in an unscheduled match against no-hoper new signings and think that’s enough to make a claim as the real contenders for these belts?
‘And we’re supposed to be the entitled ones?’
A shake of the head from Cass.
‘People like you are fuckin’ weak. Spineless bastards who think they deserve spots because of “longevity” and “commitment”. Well, what exactly are you committed to? Being huge fuckin’ disappointments and boasting mediocre win-loss records, while you stand there and think you should be HANDED opportunities against teams you’re 0-3 against?
‘But you’ll sit there and tell yourselves you deserved this, because you can’t live with how insignificant you are otherwise. You’ll tell yourself you pushed us to our limits, that you’re more capable wrestlers, that you’ll get us next time. Rinse. Repeat.
‘Here's to putting an end to your dreams… again.’
He raises his glass and then puts it down.
‘Geri, you seem to enjoy calling me the weak-link, right? You’d know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t ya you fuckin’ loser? Your entire career has been spent being the weakest link on a squad full of nobodies. You’d catch me dead before you found me being so terrible that I’m lagging behind people like Kennedy Matthews, but you? You slot perfectly into that role, don’t you?
‘This is your legacy. This is who you are as a wrestler, as a competitor, as a woman. But you have the gall to come at me and act like I can’t get the job done? Yeah, tell that to Hall of Famers and World Champions I’ve already put into the dirt, the same people that you don’t even get a whiff of because… well, you just aren’t good enough, right? That’s how the story goes with you. And now you’re here pulling the same shit with Derrick.
Everywhere you go, you find yourself as the expendable member. The odd-man out. Whether it be chasing Cruiserweight Belts while everyone has higher aspirations, or being the fall man for your own boyfriend. Geri finds a way to be the 13th guy on the bench, doing nothing and still tryna act as though she's relevant. Do you realize what company this puts you in?
‘You’re a Talent Enhancer without the ability to enhance anything except your own fragile ego, which you desperately attempt to pump up every time you drop a sorry excuse for a promo. What’s next?
“Geri Miller searches Wiki-How on how to be a successful person in life.”
‘Step 1: Positive reinforcement. Look in the mirror and tell yourself a message you want to speak into existence. You walk into the mirror and you see yourself with your pleading eyes, tears forming in them as you whisper over and over: “Please God let me beat the Adlers.”
‘And then God looks down on you and says “lmao silly bitch” and then you get the taste slapped out of your fuckin’ mouth, again… as we expect.
‘I’d go into your cringe-inducing, vomit-worthy relationship with Derrick, but I’ll save that for when I rip him into a million pieces. For now, go cry into his fedora and think about why you’re such a waste of space and why you'll never get these belts. Okay?
‘Don’t get confused though, we can still fuck once Vayden ditches you for a partner who is actually worth a damn. Just give me the call.’
He winks.
‘I received a call from Rafael.’ Francis Alder said, stern as ever.
‘Who?
‘Your old agent.’
‘Oh, yeah. What did he want?’
‘He’s done us a huge courtesy and offered you an out from your… detour into wrestling. Thankfully, it’s something much more befitting of someone from our family. He’s found multiple roles suitable for someone of your talents. Drafted contracts are in the works. You could be filming again soon. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
Cassidy scoffed.
‘I told you I’m not gettin’ back into that shit until I’m done with wrestling. You don’t get to call the shots on what I do with my career, you get me?’
‘Career, you say? Interesting. Has Olivia not told you?’
Cassidy halted, appearing confused.
‘Told me what?’
‘The charades will be over soon. She’s quitting, and so are you. And then… you’ll get back on the right path.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘An Adler with any self-respect never tells a lie.’
‘I’ve got to go.’
He pivoted away from his Father, making way to exit his study.
‘Once you’re done sulking, call Rafael. He’ll want a word.’
Back to the scene, with Cassidy taking a sip from his wine before placing it back on the table.
‘So, Derrick. Back at it again, I see. You did some digging into our personal lives. You were that insecure that you needed to use my Father to get into Olive’s head, right? Well, how about I return the favor, you fuckin’ cunt?’
No more games. Cassidy’s feet leave the table as he stares into the camera.
‘Let’s look at your inherently toxic relationship with Geri that’s gonna end up leaving a poor kid out on the street with a deadbeat Mom and Dad once the two of you spontaneously combust into a fiery shitshow that reeks of despair and disappointment once you realize that this “fairytale relationship” is nothing but a pipe dream that you’ve attempted to construct into reality.
‘Once the shining light of “stardom” fades away - and keep in mind, I use that word pretty fuckin’ generously because the two of you couldn’t string together a consistent streak of success if your future child’s depended on it - and you’re left staring at once another in your shitty rundown apartment that stinks of weed and devastating failure, you’ll see that what you had wasn’t real.
‘What’s that, you say? “Cassidy, you bastard. We really do love each other!”
‘Yeah, right. Because the former rivals turned lovers who haven’t been together for even a year yet re in it for the long haul and are ready to have a kid, when they can’t even keep their emotions in check. One scrolls through Tumblr looking for shit to cut his wrists to, “relating” to all the edgy content on there, and the other is too juvenile to even give her partner a call about her concerns. Isn’t that right, Geri? Texting like a 12 year old to Derrick about Rion Hearts. Worried about the competition, hm? That makes sense, considering whenever there’s actually decent competition you crumble faster than a Lissie Hope World Title reign.
‘Yup, guys. This love story makes PERFECT sense. I’ll send the pitch over to Wattpad right now and let them know that the next hit Young Adult Novel is in the works.
“Seriously, you couldn’t make this shit up unless you were a recluse 16-year-old who has to scream at their Mom saying “THIS ISN’T JUST A PHASE MOM”.
‘You wanna talk about how I’m immature? Wanna say that I’m not cut out for the business? Cool. Fair game. But don’t sell yourselves as the beacons of maturity. Especially you, Vayden. You know, considering you want your child's future role model to be a drug abusing, clingy, serial-follower with no mind of her own to be the one raising that poor soul.
‘Say what you want about us, we can take it. You guys? You drown under pressure and expectation. You didn’t want this match, you knew it was a lost cause the moment you went out there and started your corny ass speeches about how you should get this shot. Your pride needed it, your self-respect and dignity hinged on getting this shot.
‘And you got it. Congratulations, you’re facing the Champs. Shoot me with your best. Break my fuckin’ jaw. Kick me in the nuts and make me spew. Beat me into a bloody mess. Please, I’m begging you.
‘But no matter how hard I beg, and no matter how hard you guys try… it’s just not gonna happen, now is it? Because you are The Cool Kids… and an Adler out-thinks and out-hustles a “Cool” Kid.
‘Every. Single. Time.’
‘Because he deserved it. He disrespected me.’
‘Oh, right. The usual.’ she said. A sigh escaped from her lips.
‘You wouldn’t get it.’
‘Sure I wouldn’t. Anyway, you know you really upset Olive, yeah?’
‘What do you mean? I was just defending myself.’ he said, an innocent tone accompanied his voice.
‘She’s not dumb. But seriously, she likes him. That wasn’t cool.’
‘The fuck? You of all people trying to hold me accountable? C’mon Stace, you know you’d go distract her again if it meant getting another gram.’ he said, only to have her laugh in response.
‘You know I can get my own shit. It’s just easier when I suck you into giving it to me.’
He shrugged, conceding the point.
‘That guy ain’t good for her anyway. I’d gladly sock him in the mouth again if he gets involved in our shit.’
Another sigh from Stacy, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Cassidy. He felt the overwhelming need to say something to fill the silence, as if to justify his actions.
‘You guys just don’t get it.’
‘I don’t think there’s much to get, to be honest with you.’
‘Whatever. I don’t care anymore. Can you text Fran for me? She blocked me on everything.’
‘Dude.’
‘What?’
‘She’s not gonna take you back. Especially since you’re fucking everything in sight right now - including most of her friends? You really don’t think this shit through, do you?’
‘Not really.’
‘I don’t think we’re related.’
Her phone rattled on the desk in front of her. She picked it up, reading the message she received.
‘Dad called you to go up to the study.’
‘Why didn’t he text me?’
‘...because you don’t reply to any of his texts?’
‘Fair.’
He sat up off the bed and left the room, heading upstairs to the study.
~~~~~
Cassidy sat in a comfortable-looking leather chair, feet kicked up on an old desk while he smiled. He wore a black blazer over the top of a grey sweater. On one side of him, a glass of red wine sat, and on the other, his World Tag Team Title. He glanced at the belt, raising an eyebrow for the people watching at home.
‘A real champ defends the belt. That’s what you’re all thinking, right? Praying to high heaven that Olive and I don’t continue our reign of terror over the division by defending against seemingly the only people willing to face inevitable defeat and be humiliated again by the ONLY tag-team worthy of holding onto the straps.’
He laughs.
‘Well, be my fuckin’ guest, I’d love to dance with Spencer and Crow again, but we’ve got some not-so-new partners to attend to first. Derrick, Geri. It’s an honor to be sharing the stage with you again, because honestly? I’ve missed it. Getting the one-up on you guys has become a tradition, it smells and feels like home. Without it? I’ve felt kinda empty. It’s only fitting you guys are the first people we beat as we ravage what’s left of this division.’
He rests a hand on his belt.
‘And just like home… things haven’t changed since I last visited, have they? You’re still the underwhelming, fake contenders you were when we first squared off. And no matter how you spin it and talk about your "improvements", you revert into your same old ways - getting fuckin’ obliterated by the Adlers and looking terrible while doing it.
‘Not only do you guys fuckin’ suck at the whole wrestling thing, but you’re complete hypocrites. Remember when you sat there on your high horses, sucking your own dicks about your “consistency” and “momentum building” and criticizing myself and Olive for not being booked enough and not facing tough competition?
‘Now look at you. Your last REAL matches were both losses, against myself and Olive respectively, albeit with different partners. Then you show up in an unscheduled match against no-hoper new signings and think that’s enough to make a claim as the real contenders for these belts?
‘And we’re supposed to be the entitled ones?’
A shake of the head from Cass.
‘People like you are fuckin’ weak. Spineless bastards who think they deserve spots because of “longevity” and “commitment”. Well, what exactly are you committed to? Being huge fuckin’ disappointments and boasting mediocre win-loss records, while you stand there and think you should be HANDED opportunities against teams you’re 0-3 against?
‘But you’ll sit there and tell yourselves you deserved this, because you can’t live with how insignificant you are otherwise. You’ll tell yourself you pushed us to our limits, that you’re more capable wrestlers, that you’ll get us next time. Rinse. Repeat.
‘Here's to putting an end to your dreams… again.’
He raises his glass and then puts it down.
‘Geri, you seem to enjoy calling me the weak-link, right? You’d know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t ya you fuckin’ loser? Your entire career has been spent being the weakest link on a squad full of nobodies. You’d catch me dead before you found me being so terrible that I’m lagging behind people like Kennedy Matthews, but you? You slot perfectly into that role, don’t you?
‘This is your legacy. This is who you are as a wrestler, as a competitor, as a woman. But you have the gall to come at me and act like I can’t get the job done? Yeah, tell that to Hall of Famers and World Champions I’ve already put into the dirt, the same people that you don’t even get a whiff of because… well, you just aren’t good enough, right? That’s how the story goes with you. And now you’re here pulling the same shit with Derrick.
Everywhere you go, you find yourself as the expendable member. The odd-man out. Whether it be chasing Cruiserweight Belts while everyone has higher aspirations, or being the fall man for your own boyfriend. Geri finds a way to be the 13th guy on the bench, doing nothing and still tryna act as though she's relevant. Do you realize what company this puts you in?
‘You’re a Talent Enhancer without the ability to enhance anything except your own fragile ego, which you desperately attempt to pump up every time you drop a sorry excuse for a promo. What’s next?
“Geri Miller searches Wiki-How on how to be a successful person in life.”
‘Step 1: Positive reinforcement. Look in the mirror and tell yourself a message you want to speak into existence. You walk into the mirror and you see yourself with your pleading eyes, tears forming in them as you whisper over and over: “Please God let me beat the Adlers.”
‘And then God looks down on you and says “lmao silly bitch” and then you get the taste slapped out of your fuckin’ mouth, again… as we expect.
‘I’d go into your cringe-inducing, vomit-worthy relationship with Derrick, but I’ll save that for when I rip him into a million pieces. For now, go cry into his fedora and think about why you’re such a waste of space and why you'll never get these belts. Okay?
‘Don’t get confused though, we can still fuck once Vayden ditches you for a partner who is actually worth a damn. Just give me the call.’
He winks.
~~~~~
‘I received a call from Rafael.’ Francis Alder said, stern as ever.
‘Who?
‘Your old agent.’
‘Oh, yeah. What did he want?’
‘He’s done us a huge courtesy and offered you an out from your… detour into wrestling. Thankfully, it’s something much more befitting of someone from our family. He’s found multiple roles suitable for someone of your talents. Drafted contracts are in the works. You could be filming again soon. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
Cassidy scoffed.
‘I told you I’m not gettin’ back into that shit until I’m done with wrestling. You don’t get to call the shots on what I do with my career, you get me?’
‘Career, you say? Interesting. Has Olivia not told you?’
Cassidy halted, appearing confused.
‘Told me what?’
‘The charades will be over soon. She’s quitting, and so are you. And then… you’ll get back on the right path.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘An Adler with any self-respect never tells a lie.’
‘I’ve got to go.’
He pivoted away from his Father, making way to exit his study.
‘Once you’re done sulking, call Rafael. He’ll want a word.’
~~~~~
Back to the scene, with Cassidy taking a sip from his wine before placing it back on the table.
‘So, Derrick. Back at it again, I see. You did some digging into our personal lives. You were that insecure that you needed to use my Father to get into Olive’s head, right? Well, how about I return the favor, you fuckin’ cunt?’
No more games. Cassidy’s feet leave the table as he stares into the camera.
‘Let’s look at your inherently toxic relationship with Geri that’s gonna end up leaving a poor kid out on the street with a deadbeat Mom and Dad once the two of you spontaneously combust into a fiery shitshow that reeks of despair and disappointment once you realize that this “fairytale relationship” is nothing but a pipe dream that you’ve attempted to construct into reality.
‘Once the shining light of “stardom” fades away - and keep in mind, I use that word pretty fuckin’ generously because the two of you couldn’t string together a consistent streak of success if your future child’s depended on it - and you’re left staring at once another in your shitty rundown apartment that stinks of weed and devastating failure, you’ll see that what you had wasn’t real.
‘What’s that, you say? “Cassidy, you bastard. We really do love each other!”
‘Yeah, right. Because the former rivals turned lovers who haven’t been together for even a year yet re in it for the long haul and are ready to have a kid, when they can’t even keep their emotions in check. One scrolls through Tumblr looking for shit to cut his wrists to, “relating” to all the edgy content on there, and the other is too juvenile to even give her partner a call about her concerns. Isn’t that right, Geri? Texting like a 12 year old to Derrick about Rion Hearts. Worried about the competition, hm? That makes sense, considering whenever there’s actually decent competition you crumble faster than a Lissie Hope World Title reign.
‘Yup, guys. This love story makes PERFECT sense. I’ll send the pitch over to Wattpad right now and let them know that the next hit Young Adult Novel is in the works.
“Seriously, you couldn’t make this shit up unless you were a recluse 16-year-old who has to scream at their Mom saying “THIS ISN’T JUST A PHASE MOM”.
‘You wanna talk about how I’m immature? Wanna say that I’m not cut out for the business? Cool. Fair game. But don’t sell yourselves as the beacons of maturity. Especially you, Vayden. You know, considering you want your child's future role model to be a drug abusing, clingy, serial-follower with no mind of her own to be the one raising that poor soul.
‘Say what you want about us, we can take it. You guys? You drown under pressure and expectation. You didn’t want this match, you knew it was a lost cause the moment you went out there and started your corny ass speeches about how you should get this shot. Your pride needed it, your self-respect and dignity hinged on getting this shot.
‘And you got it. Congratulations, you’re facing the Champs. Shoot me with your best. Break my fuckin’ jaw. Kick me in the nuts and make me spew. Beat me into a bloody mess. Please, I’m begging you.
‘But no matter how hard I beg, and no matter how hard you guys try… it’s just not gonna happen, now is it? Because you are The Cool Kids… and an Adler out-thinks and out-hustles a “Cool” Kid.
‘Every. Single. Time.’