Post by English/Corpse on Jul 29, 2015 16:59:09 GMT -6
Hair Trigger
Failure, it never sat well with me. I
slip up and lose that championship to Ziu of all people, a man who
pinned me to the mat yet again at Heatstroke. I know they are going
to skip right over me yet again, hoping to set up the gigantic battle
all these blood thirsty simply manipulated “fans”. They all want
Ziu vs. Val, but that isn't what they are going get. Everyone wants
to drool over the Champion like he is the most popular girl in High
School. A champion doesn't loose to Ryder Blade before the big match.
A Champion doesn't come into a battle with three consecutive losses.
It seems this whole company needs a relaity check.
It's about time I cashed it.
I hated the idea of not achieving my
full potential. They have almost done it, broken my spirit. Plopped
me in the ring with 5 other dogs, all foaming at the mouth for that
one gigantic bone neglecting the rest of their weaker more brittle
achievements. I almost did it, had Ziu pinned, but they took his hand
that rose it up in the air like he was their idol, their savior.
In my country.
In my company.
In my home.
Valquist.
A man who's blood rushes to his member
at the pronunciation of his own unique title.
“The Valiant”.
When the fuck has a lawyer ever been
valiant? A linguist who believes his words have the ability to slice
flesh and transfix minds, but you all know better than that don't
you?
You all know who invented that game.
He's ruled the corporate world and now
his path of self indulgent “enlightenment” brings him to
wrestling? It brings him to VOW, and somehow brings him all the way
to the tip top of the mountain. He sits proud, his head held high.
His best friend Isis Derrida apparently back by his side, being
treated like a long lost love. I wonder how intimate their story
truly is? He sits over a kingdom he briefly rules, looking down on me
like I am a peasant. Like he has somehow done something I haven't.
But he hasn't. I was the one to carve
out that throne. I was the first one to place the crown upon my head.
And as VOW has proved in it's existence it's much easier to become a
champion than it is to remain one.
The Valquist is staring down the barrel of a
loaded up, chromed out, gripped white knuckled .45 with the initials
C. English gently inscribed on the wood grain handle.
And baby, I got a fuckin' hair trigger.