Post by Soldado Fortuna on May 9, 2021 3:23:40 GMT -5
We open on a beautiful garden, complete with dozens of varieties of flower and a perfectly manicured lawn. In the middle of the garden sits a large table, which Victoria Richardson is seated at, flanked by Soldado Fortuna.
"Is that what you want? For us to get so rattled that we make mistakes and implode for all the world to see and for you to revel in our misery?"
"Or are you hoping to see a little preview of next week’s Cruiserweight title match?"
"Don’t get me twisted, we haven’t forgotten the feeling of not winning the Cruiserweight title and it was our partner for this week, Regan Voorhees, that inflicted that feeling upon us"
"You are the one in the unenviable position of being trapped alongside your opponent for next week, an opponent who’s willing to move heaven and earth to take your title off you. It’s not lost on me how easy it would be for us to exact a little revenge upon you Regan. How easy it would be for Soldado to leave you a crumpled mess in the middle of the ring and render you a mere carcass for Soldado to feast on next week"
Victoria smiles
"In fact, Regan, we want you to be at 100% for our title match next week so there can be no asterixis attached to Soldado’s coronation"
Victoria produces a flowerpot with a single red rose inside.
"So why don’t you make like this beautiful rose and stand on the apron, looking pretty, and observe what you unlocked in Soldado when you beat him. What was lying dormant but has now bubbled to the surface. What awaits you in seven days Regan"
Victoria pushes the red rose to the floor and produces two new pots, each with a pristine black rose planted in it. On each of the pots, the names of one of the Schlorg brothers is written
"Now for the unfortunate souls for whom these black roses belong to: Ricky. Chris. The Schorgs"
"In your own minds you will reason that this is management giving you some sort of stamp of approval of your abilities, that you deserve to be in the ring with the current and soon-to-be Cruiserweight champion. The reality is a lot bleaker. The reality is that the two of you are nothing more than cannon fodder, glorified crash test dummies for my client to reacquaint himself with pummelling an opponent into submission"
"Sorry to say this, boys, but you are the wrestling equivalent of a fluffer. I’m sure Mama and Papa Schorg are thrilled with that being the pinnacle of your existence"
"The only thing you have to cling to is the tired cliché of a champion team beating a team of champions, a catch cry you can use to convince yourselves you’ve got a chance. The problem is the two of you as far from a champion team as it gets. This is despite the fact you’ve been handed a gift from the genetic gods that other tag teams would kill to possess...and yet you are squandering it by languishing in the doldrums of the tag division, where you will continue to remain"
"So, what becomes your last resort? What every established team’s last resort is when they face a strange bedfellows team: Hope the opponents self-destruct. Hope that the big red target on Regan’s back is too much and Soldado cannot show restraint. Hope is all you have and it will be that hope that will kill you"
Victoria takes a long look around the garden