Post by A Ghost Now on May 7, 2016 9:15:17 GMT -6
Visionaries of Wrestling Win/Loss Record.
Zero and One…
“Berlin Anderson has done it! He's beaten Maxwell Soloke and Death in his very first VOW match!”
“Well, in all fairness, Max may have won the match himself if he didn't turn his back on Death...”
“That might be so, Ruby... Because up until the final moments of this contest, there really was no clear winner!”
“Ladies and gentleman, the winner of this match via pin fall… BERLIN ANDERSON!!!”
One and One…
“WOW!”
“ Wow is right, Axel. Maxwell completely STOLE that victory from Daniel.”
“ He took advantage of the situation, Ruby. It was actually a pretty smart move.”
“ Yes well, either way... Kennedy may or may not have a bone to pick with Soloke now....”
“Here's your winner, folks, via pinfall… the Perfect Disaster, MAXWELL SOLOKE!!!”
Two and One…
“Wait a minute, is he doing what I think he's doing!? This is suicide, with that bum leg of his!”
“ But Maxwell Soloke is the Suicide King! This is a huge gamble on Berlin's part!”
“.38 SPECIAL! SOLOKE DODGES IT!”
“Dammit! It was a risky play, and it didn't pay off!”
“PERFECT DISASTER! IT CONNECTS!”
One! Two!! THREE!!!
“The winner of the match, via pinfall… MAXWELLLLLL SOOOOLLLLLLLOKE!”
Two and Two…
“The winner of the match via pinfall..."The Blackguard" SCOOOTTTTT KNIGHHTTT!!!”
“Max was persistent and put up the good fight but Knight's devastating arsenal was just too hard to top.”
Three and Two.
Verizon Wireless Center – August 27th, 2014, Mankato, Minnesota
Seven!
Punch.
Eight!!
Uppercut.
Nine! TEN! NO!
Two bodies barely rolled themselves under the bottom rope of the squared circle to avoid being counted out before getting back to their feet. The smaller of the two got the advantage first with a kick to the gut, a European uppercut, and finished with a roundhouse kick.
“Maxus Combo! Max is going for a cover!”
One!
Two!!
Kickout.
The two get up again. The taller one this time gets the upper hand with his grappling. Vertical Suplex. Reverse Suplex. German Suplex. Fisherman Suplex. Dragon Suplex. Northern Lights Suplex. Pin.
One!
Two!!
Three!! No! Kickout!
“What an incredible suplex display there by Patrick Jones! Since when did he become a human suplex machine?”
“He must’ve eaten his noodles this morning, Axel.”
“Max is pretty winded after all of those suplexes… kicking out might’ve just taken the last bit of energy he had out of him.”
The larger man, identified now as Patrick Jones, moved into the corner and signaled the end for the crowd. He moved in for his finishing move; a superkick of which he dubbed “Zoned Out.”
“Max looks like he’s about to be Zoned Out… Wait! Max catches PJ’s leg and swings him around!”
The smaller wrestler, with the last burst of energy in his tank, grabbed his opponent by the neck in a Dragon Sleeper before flipping forward!
“Maxus Drive! That could be all she wrote for Patrick Jones!”
Cover…
One.
Two..
THREE!!!
DING! DING! DING!!
“The winner of this match by pinfall… MAXWELL SOLOKE!”
That’s the last any devote member of VOW saw me. For my own following of fans, they’ve known I’ve been active in another federation. But… well, something drives me back to this place. It’s on its own league. It may not be the most well-known, but still carries the same prestige as any main-stay federation does, if not more. Competition is high up there, if not higher than the norm.
I’ve missed this place. A year away has been way too long. It’s time to pick up from where I left off. From bottom to top, I go.
Now, then, step number one is the hard part.
… Obtaining a goddamn contract again.
For those of you just tuning in, let me introduce myself. My name is Maxwell Soloke. I’m sure that part is obvious by now. What you don’t know is that I am an international wrestler with multiple world championships under my belt!
One of those statements is a lie, and sadly it’s not the international part. But, I’m not a pushover either! Five singles championships. Ten hardcore championships. Two tag team championships.
And one main-stay championship.
… It’s a damn shame that championship was a stolen crown with a label that basically equates to that of an Intercontinental Championship, not a World Championship… for a traveling circus of a federation, no less. But, hey, those freaks put up one hell of a fight, I’ll give you that much.
So, yeah. Multi-time singles champion and all that. They don’t call me “King of the Mid Card” for nothing! Hah! Ahaha… ha… ahh… fucking shit, I hate that title. But, it’s true, sadly. I’ve barely reached the main event, and when I do… I usually flop it up. A sad fate is mine.
But, I’m working to change it! I’ve gotten off my ass and improved for the most part! And that’s what I’m going right up to the General Manager and saying!
May 10th, 2016 – Hilton Garden Inn Chicago, Bedford Park, IL, 11:02 AM
“Well, that is the worst resume I have read today.” Were the first words out of Sky Sangue’s mouth. Deadpan words. Emotionless and to the point. Max could practically feel his heart breaking in his seat.
“Well… I wouldn’t be surprised, really. I’m sure this place is bursting with World Champions. I’ll see myself out of your room, then.” Max gathered up his belongings and got off of the chair provided to him. Sky merely laughed to herself.
“I am merely… ah… pulling your chain, Maxipad.”
Bitch.
“You are fine and would make a fine re-addition to the roster. At least we know that you will show to your matches, and that is a good fifty percent of what we look for. The other fifty percent is praying to the Gods of English you can coherently speak the English language.”
Max bit his tongue to the nickname. “So does that mean I get a contract?”
“Sure. Just realize you are starting where you left off. That most likely means you’re getting opening matches for Breakthrough and dark matches for the pay per views. Understand?”
“Fine, fine. I’ll take it gladly with a grain of salt.”
“You sound… desperate. Lost your old job or something and trying to scrap up this one again?”
“Quite the contrary. This will be the second federation I’m wrestling for. The other federation has monthly shows, however, so no sense in waiting around for a fight. I think I can manage the juggle, though. I’m glad to be back here with the better part of New—“
“If you haven’t forgotten from your last time here, we don’t talk about that place. No one wants to remember, and quite honestly, no one cares. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Well, you certainly know how to kiss ass. I am just going to pray that is not the only thing you are still good at. Let me look through my things and I will get you a contract.”
“Thanks, Sky.”
“Do not thank me, yet. This place has changed and improved greatly since you left.” Sky got off her bed. “And I would not be surprised if one of our finest jobbers took a win off of you.”
Double bitch…
“I can sense your annoyance. Take a joke.” Sky remarked as she dug through some files before pulling out a contract and presented it to Max. “Take your time with it.”
As Max started to read through the contract, Sky decided to interview him on the spot. “So, what brought you back here, honestly? Over any other silly federation, you pick… us. Why?”
“Well. I was hoping to maybe clean up some loose ends and ignite some old feuds. And, of course, become a champion. But, let’s be real, the latter won’t happen.”
“Oh, yes. Let me guess. Owen, Patrick, and Cera?”
“Yes. Especially Cer—“
“Died of a heart attack at Double Jeopardy. Tragic.”
Max’s heart actually halted for a moment to the news. “She’s…”
“Dead. Deceased. Six feet under. Now, hurry up with the contract and get out of my room. Please.” The mood was dampening in the room at a rapid rate. Max quickly signed off on the papers before leaving them on Sky’s bed, avoiding her glance.
“My apologies for yours, as well as all of VOW’s, loss. I’ll see myself out and see you again in a couple of days.”
“Bye.”
Max collected up his messenger bag and left the room without another word. His own room was a floor down, so he decided to walk it.
The Baddest Bitch… gone? Well… I probably would not have ever bested you either way, but… a damn shame I can’t try anymore. At least it’s warmer than a freezer… wherever you are… Heh, ain’t that right?
Cold Front… I’ll… never get revenge for that match, will I? Not until I see you in Hell, I guess.
“No! Hell no! He can’t win!” Shouted one commentator.
“It looks like that may be the case here, Vince. Cera’s lost a bit of blood from the stab wound, along with all the other attacks on her…” Another calmly said. However, the match they were commenting on was not in front of them, but rather… inside a freezer. The objective was simply to escape and leave the opponent in.
That’s the last time Max was ever involved with the Baddest Bitch. Almost three years ago.
Max and Cera were dazed after Max barely hit his “Sunset Over Nuuk,” a powerbomb transitioned from a fireman’s carry. But not even that was enough to keep her down. Every move in his arsenal was not enough to put her down as she dragged him by his throat towards the exit, choking him all the way. Max struggled desperately for anything that could help him. He needed escape, or a weapon, or both. Luckily, he had found the latter… a meat tenderizer.
Earlier, with her own knife, Max had nicked Cera in the side. Blood had been spilling since the start of this match, and he was about to spill more as he swung that tenderizer home… right into the wound. It was only fair, since she had taken a wide swipe at his chest much earlier than that. Cera doubled over in pure agony as Max fell to the ground. The pain, cold, headshots, and blood loss was taking their toll on both of their consciousnesses.
Max shoved Cera back away from him, sending her hard into a shelf. Both toppled over… into another… and another… until every shelf behind the first fell like a domino. Losing the last bit of his rational thought, Max looked to end the match completely as he grabbed Cera up one last time for the powerbomb, but Cera has the wherewithal to turn it into a hurricanrana! Cera sends Max face-first into the same set of shelves he had pushed her into just a moment prior. Through all the pain she had endured, her blood continued to boil as she grabbed Max close and knocked him down completely with her patent Xtreme Speed scorpion kick. Max fell to the cold ground, unresponsive as Cera walked out the winner, shutting Max in behind her…
Back in his own hotel room now, Max laid down on his bed before looking up the event Sky mentioned. Sure enough, there it was. News articles were still a-plenty. All covering the tragic death in the ring of Cera. It was real.
“Well, shit. I guess there really goes that idea. Well, Patty and Owen still are around and active. I can’t wait to pay those two a visit again.” Max started to scroll through his phone a bit more to catch up on the more recent past of VOW, as well as the upcoming pay per view.
“Fate of the Gods. Well, for their Super Bowl, it seems nice. Zero Gravity Championship main event? Hell, a Zero G contendership match in the Pre-Show last year? I’m fine with this, maybe I’ll have a chance to start my way to the top early. Don’t hold your breath, though, Soloke. Knowing your luck, you’ll probably get the jobbed out in the very first pre-show match like that clown did. But, high hopes! You’re back in VOW! Let’s show these people what you’ve got to offer and have some fun with it!”
As night began to fall, Max started to get ready for bed. He stripped away into his boxers and got comfortable in his hotel room bed. He set his phone on the bedside table with the ringer on in case he was needed. Lastly, he looked out his window to the night sky with a smile.
“Tomorrow is a new day… and it’s going to be a good day.”
Zero and One…
“Berlin Anderson has done it! He's beaten Maxwell Soloke and Death in his very first VOW match!”
“Well, in all fairness, Max may have won the match himself if he didn't turn his back on Death...”
“That might be so, Ruby... Because up until the final moments of this contest, there really was no clear winner!”
“Ladies and gentleman, the winner of this match via pin fall… BERLIN ANDERSON!!!”
One and One…
“WOW!”
“ Wow is right, Axel. Maxwell completely STOLE that victory from Daniel.”
“ He took advantage of the situation, Ruby. It was actually a pretty smart move.”
“ Yes well, either way... Kennedy may or may not have a bone to pick with Soloke now....”
“Here's your winner, folks, via pinfall… the Perfect Disaster, MAXWELL SOLOKE!!!”
Two and One…
“Wait a minute, is he doing what I think he's doing!? This is suicide, with that bum leg of his!”
“ But Maxwell Soloke is the Suicide King! This is a huge gamble on Berlin's part!”
“.38 SPECIAL! SOLOKE DODGES IT!”
“Dammit! It was a risky play, and it didn't pay off!”
“PERFECT DISASTER! IT CONNECTS!”
One! Two!! THREE!!!
“The winner of the match, via pinfall… MAXWELLLLLL SOOOOLLLLLLLOKE!”
Two and Two…
“The winner of the match via pinfall..."The Blackguard" SCOOOTTTTT KNIGHHTTT!!!”
“Max was persistent and put up the good fight but Knight's devastating arsenal was just too hard to top.”
Three and Two.
Verizon Wireless Center – August 27th, 2014, Mankato, Minnesota
Seven!
Punch.
Eight!!
Uppercut.
Nine! TEN! NO!
Two bodies barely rolled themselves under the bottom rope of the squared circle to avoid being counted out before getting back to their feet. The smaller of the two got the advantage first with a kick to the gut, a European uppercut, and finished with a roundhouse kick.
“Maxus Combo! Max is going for a cover!”
One!
Two!!
Kickout.
The two get up again. The taller one this time gets the upper hand with his grappling. Vertical Suplex. Reverse Suplex. German Suplex. Fisherman Suplex. Dragon Suplex. Northern Lights Suplex. Pin.
One!
Two!!
Three!! No! Kickout!
“What an incredible suplex display there by Patrick Jones! Since when did he become a human suplex machine?”
“He must’ve eaten his noodles this morning, Axel.”
“Max is pretty winded after all of those suplexes… kicking out might’ve just taken the last bit of energy he had out of him.”
The larger man, identified now as Patrick Jones, moved into the corner and signaled the end for the crowd. He moved in for his finishing move; a superkick of which he dubbed “Zoned Out.”
“Max looks like he’s about to be Zoned Out… Wait! Max catches PJ’s leg and swings him around!”
The smaller wrestler, with the last burst of energy in his tank, grabbed his opponent by the neck in a Dragon Sleeper before flipping forward!
“Maxus Drive! That could be all she wrote for Patrick Jones!”
Cover…
One.
Two..
THREE!!!
DING! DING! DING!!
“The winner of this match by pinfall… MAXWELL SOLOKE!”
That’s the last any devote member of VOW saw me. For my own following of fans, they’ve known I’ve been active in another federation. But… well, something drives me back to this place. It’s on its own league. It may not be the most well-known, but still carries the same prestige as any main-stay federation does, if not more. Competition is high up there, if not higher than the norm.
I’ve missed this place. A year away has been way too long. It’s time to pick up from where I left off. From bottom to top, I go.
Now, then, step number one is the hard part.
… Obtaining a goddamn contract again.
For those of you just tuning in, let me introduce myself. My name is Maxwell Soloke. I’m sure that part is obvious by now. What you don’t know is that I am an international wrestler with multiple world championships under my belt!
One of those statements is a lie, and sadly it’s not the international part. But, I’m not a pushover either! Five singles championships. Ten hardcore championships. Two tag team championships.
And one main-stay championship.
… It’s a damn shame that championship was a stolen crown with a label that basically equates to that of an Intercontinental Championship, not a World Championship… for a traveling circus of a federation, no less. But, hey, those freaks put up one hell of a fight, I’ll give you that much.
So, yeah. Multi-time singles champion and all that. They don’t call me “King of the Mid Card” for nothing! Hah! Ahaha… ha… ahh… fucking shit, I hate that title. But, it’s true, sadly. I’ve barely reached the main event, and when I do… I usually flop it up. A sad fate is mine.
But, I’m working to change it! I’ve gotten off my ass and improved for the most part! And that’s what I’m going right up to the General Manager and saying!
May 10th, 2016 – Hilton Garden Inn Chicago, Bedford Park, IL, 11:02 AM
“Well, that is the worst resume I have read today.” Were the first words out of Sky Sangue’s mouth. Deadpan words. Emotionless and to the point. Max could practically feel his heart breaking in his seat.
“Well… I wouldn’t be surprised, really. I’m sure this place is bursting with World Champions. I’ll see myself out of your room, then.” Max gathered up his belongings and got off of the chair provided to him. Sky merely laughed to herself.
“I am merely… ah… pulling your chain, Maxipad.”
Bitch.
“You are fine and would make a fine re-addition to the roster. At least we know that you will show to your matches, and that is a good fifty percent of what we look for. The other fifty percent is praying to the Gods of English you can coherently speak the English language.”
Max bit his tongue to the nickname. “So does that mean I get a contract?”
“Sure. Just realize you are starting where you left off. That most likely means you’re getting opening matches for Breakthrough and dark matches for the pay per views. Understand?”
“Fine, fine. I’ll take it gladly with a grain of salt.”
“You sound… desperate. Lost your old job or something and trying to scrap up this one again?”
“Quite the contrary. This will be the second federation I’m wrestling for. The other federation has monthly shows, however, so no sense in waiting around for a fight. I think I can manage the juggle, though. I’m glad to be back here with the better part of New—“
“If you haven’t forgotten from your last time here, we don’t talk about that place. No one wants to remember, and quite honestly, no one cares. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Well, you certainly know how to kiss ass. I am just going to pray that is not the only thing you are still good at. Let me look through my things and I will get you a contract.”
“Thanks, Sky.”
“Do not thank me, yet. This place has changed and improved greatly since you left.” Sky got off her bed. “And I would not be surprised if one of our finest jobbers took a win off of you.”
Double bitch…
“I can sense your annoyance. Take a joke.” Sky remarked as she dug through some files before pulling out a contract and presented it to Max. “Take your time with it.”
As Max started to read through the contract, Sky decided to interview him on the spot. “So, what brought you back here, honestly? Over any other silly federation, you pick… us. Why?”
“Well. I was hoping to maybe clean up some loose ends and ignite some old feuds. And, of course, become a champion. But, let’s be real, the latter won’t happen.”
“Oh, yes. Let me guess. Owen, Patrick, and Cera?”
“Yes. Especially Cer—“
“Died of a heart attack at Double Jeopardy. Tragic.”
Max’s heart actually halted for a moment to the news. “She’s…”
“Dead. Deceased. Six feet under. Now, hurry up with the contract and get out of my room. Please.” The mood was dampening in the room at a rapid rate. Max quickly signed off on the papers before leaving them on Sky’s bed, avoiding her glance.
“My apologies for yours, as well as all of VOW’s, loss. I’ll see myself out and see you again in a couple of days.”
“Bye.”
Max collected up his messenger bag and left the room without another word. His own room was a floor down, so he decided to walk it.
The Baddest Bitch… gone? Well… I probably would not have ever bested you either way, but… a damn shame I can’t try anymore. At least it’s warmer than a freezer… wherever you are… Heh, ain’t that right?
Cold Front… I’ll… never get revenge for that match, will I? Not until I see you in Hell, I guess.
~~~
“No! Hell no! He can’t win!” Shouted one commentator.
“It looks like that may be the case here, Vince. Cera’s lost a bit of blood from the stab wound, along with all the other attacks on her…” Another calmly said. However, the match they were commenting on was not in front of them, but rather… inside a freezer. The objective was simply to escape and leave the opponent in.
That’s the last time Max was ever involved with the Baddest Bitch. Almost three years ago.
Max and Cera were dazed after Max barely hit his “Sunset Over Nuuk,” a powerbomb transitioned from a fireman’s carry. But not even that was enough to keep her down. Every move in his arsenal was not enough to put her down as she dragged him by his throat towards the exit, choking him all the way. Max struggled desperately for anything that could help him. He needed escape, or a weapon, or both. Luckily, he had found the latter… a meat tenderizer.
Earlier, with her own knife, Max had nicked Cera in the side. Blood had been spilling since the start of this match, and he was about to spill more as he swung that tenderizer home… right into the wound. It was only fair, since she had taken a wide swipe at his chest much earlier than that. Cera doubled over in pure agony as Max fell to the ground. The pain, cold, headshots, and blood loss was taking their toll on both of their consciousnesses.
Max shoved Cera back away from him, sending her hard into a shelf. Both toppled over… into another… and another… until every shelf behind the first fell like a domino. Losing the last bit of his rational thought, Max looked to end the match completely as he grabbed Cera up one last time for the powerbomb, but Cera has the wherewithal to turn it into a hurricanrana! Cera sends Max face-first into the same set of shelves he had pushed her into just a moment prior. Through all the pain she had endured, her blood continued to boil as she grabbed Max close and knocked him down completely with her patent Xtreme Speed scorpion kick. Max fell to the cold ground, unresponsive as Cera walked out the winner, shutting Max in behind her…
~~~
Back in his own hotel room now, Max laid down on his bed before looking up the event Sky mentioned. Sure enough, there it was. News articles were still a-plenty. All covering the tragic death in the ring of Cera. It was real.
“Well, shit. I guess there really goes that idea. Well, Patty and Owen still are around and active. I can’t wait to pay those two a visit again.” Max started to scroll through his phone a bit more to catch up on the more recent past of VOW, as well as the upcoming pay per view.
“Fate of the Gods. Well, for their Super Bowl, it seems nice. Zero Gravity Championship main event? Hell, a Zero G contendership match in the Pre-Show last year? I’m fine with this, maybe I’ll have a chance to start my way to the top early. Don’t hold your breath, though, Soloke. Knowing your luck, you’ll probably get the jobbed out in the very first pre-show match like that clown did. But, high hopes! You’re back in VOW! Let’s show these people what you’ve got to offer and have some fun with it!”
As night began to fall, Max started to get ready for bed. He stripped away into his boxers and got comfortable in his hotel room bed. He set his phone on the bedside table with the ringer on in case he was needed. Lastly, he looked out his window to the night sky with a smile.
“Tomorrow is a new day… and it’s going to be a good day.”
