Post by Brett Carson on May 19, 2014 15:26:02 GMT -6
Why the fuck am I even here? Honestly. I made a promise to myself, a promise I thought would be easy to keep..."I won't ever work,train, wrestle or fight under Steve again." Yep. My exact words. That wasn't too long ago. And now here I am...Brett motherfucking Carson, officially another pawn in Stefan Frei's Chess game. I am an idiot, a complete and utter moron.
Oh, why do I have such hatred and bitterness towards the almighty "Mr. Wrestling" you ask? Quite simple really...He's not as good as he thinks he really, really is. Now sure you could say "But Mr. Brett Carson sir, didn't he teach you everything there is to know about wrestling?", you'd actually be right in saying that...kinda. Let me put it to you like this...Stefan Frei is like training wheels on a bicycle, for a short amount of time he acted as a guide and taught you the basics of riding. But unlike other fresh, green bike riders and their bikes...these training wheels don't want to come off, they grow old and rusty and become difficult to drop off...in other words they start to hold you down. You know in your mind that with these training wheels off your back, you can go on and do bigger and better things...
Steve is those exact same training wheels. He had something great, someone who made his "training academy" look good...no...look great but he just wouldn't let me go. He kept me in his little league for months, months over due may I add and held me down while the other rocks and dirt got to be set open from his cell and went out into the big bad wrestling world that Frei thought they were ready for but they weren't in fact the only person that was ever ready to set free...was Brett Carson. But alas Frei thought otherwise, "You still can be so much better" he would say, "I'm not done with you yet, kiddo."...There was times where I felt like turning around and saying that I already was so much better and that he was done with me. But I'll admit, that wasn't the Brett you see today. I grew a set since then.
I left his shithole of an academy...He taught me the basics, basics that he went over and over and over and over on with me and, coincidentally enough, only me...But I left and went home to Canada and there was where I set the engraving not only in my mind but in the mind of all those I wrestled. Stefan Frei doesn't deserve the title, "Mr. Wrestling"...if anything, I do. In my eyes, I am already better than the "legend" (and I use that term loosely) Steve Frei.
To answer the question asked...why the fuck am I here? To torture and pay back Steve for his chaining me to the ground, to enhance my ability of wrestling to face some...decent competitors and to prove once and for all that Brett Carson will do things and become someone that Steve Frei only wishes he would've been. I sent in my credentials to the people of VOW and signed the contract I was given, courtesy of some Sky lady. She seemed eager in having me...smart woman. But nonetheless my mission is to become the best and prove why I'm the "Next Level Athlete".
That leads me onto Step 1 I suppose...The first rung on the proverbial ladder.
Tha Joka. He's a joke in my eyes, that's for sure.
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Ah yes, you lucky folks have sat through the very first loudmouth, shit talking that young Brett Carson has to offer and there will be plenty more of those in the future. From Canada to New Orleans and from New Orleans to Minnesota. That was how it went for Brett. With a final lug, he pulls off the final cardboard box from the moving truck and practically charges into his new home in the beeeauutiful St. Paul, Minnesota. And with a final sigh of relief and thankfulness, he carefully lands the box onto the wooden floorboards in his living room. The move was long, tedious and in Brett's eyes...repetitive, he looked around his home...boxes piled up everywhere, furniture scattered around waiting to be placed in their rightful positions and frames and pictures of Brett, his family and some motivational mottos on plaques that he was convincingly told by his older brother to place around his house. Speaking of his older brother, Simon Carson calmly places his shoulder on his brother's shoulder, looking in awe of his sibling's very own home.
"I dislike this...very, very much" Brett mutters, sighing once again, this time not in relief but in realization that there is still much to go until he can be completely settled into his new environment.
"Ah relax, brother. This is only the beginning for you. You'll receive much more opportunities and besides you could make this Visions of Wrestling place a household name" Simon slaps his brother on the back in efforts to have him see the bright side of the move.
The Carson brothers are the ideal athletes and academics. Both excelling in high school and college, both in the academic part and the physical part. Both Simon and Brett both played college hockey and were both successful every year in athletics. But through it all Simon had used the knowledge and power that college came with the most, while Brett decided to chase the dream of becoming a professional wrestler. He was brilliant at amateur wrestling but to him it was just that...a sport made for amateurs, and he was no amateur. The word, professional was what he wanted to be known by.
"Opportunity...That's an optimistic way of looking at it, Si (pronounced as Psy). Also a ordinary way of looking at it. You're looking at...Visionaries of Wrestling, not Visions of Wrestling, as something that could change my life and maybe it could you really never know but right now, all this..." Brett throw his arms up around his new home, "...is just a stepping stone. Steve Frei is a stepping stone, my opponents are stepping stones...It doesn't deserve to be made a household name, what it deserves to be is the stepping stone for Brett Carson to hit the big time. VOW is temporary." Brett finishes, a sick tone in his voice.
They move over to the wrongly placed couch which is at an ugly angle among other pieces of furniture and boxes in the room. They both take a seat nonetheless, allowing themselves to take in the atmosphere of the home.
"I see..." Simon simply replies as they both breath easy and look around noticing features of the beast (house) that they are comfortably relaxing in.
It's quiet for a moment as they both take in the first real rest they've had since moving. Simon suggested that since he was the eldest, it was his responsibility to make sure his little brother was settled in well.
"So you know who you're fighting in your first match? Probably some roided up, beefy guy with a mean streak that matches Gordon Ramsay's or Simon Cowell's I imagine." Simon chuckles, thinking about the overall harsh and rude nature that both Ramsay and Cowell carry.
Brett smirks, "Not exactly. First of all, Gordon and Cowell don't have mean streaks...those two have asshole streaks, I imagine quite literally. I face a man by the name of...wait for it...Tha Joka. He's one of the quote unquote big names that this place has received after the huge, sacking of wrestlers recently, and from what I've seen..." Carson pauses, looking his brother in the eye, "...he's quite the character. A psychopath of sorts...A man who doesn't quite fit the bill in the modern world. A clown."
Simon raises an eyebrow, "Right. So he's a little loopy then? The promotion's class clown?"
Brett laughs a little at his elder brother's confusion towards the distinctively unique and near horrifying character known as Tha Joka.
"Not quite...He's a fucking nutso. Green dreads, facepainted, has a rusted and probably infected cheese grater that most likely hasn't been used to actually grate cheese in goodness knows how long and...the most outstanding feature to Joka, he has an obsession with kicking a guy's balls so much so, he's sold over hundreds of thousands of his branded ball guards and turned it into merchandise. He's a circus freak rather than a class clown." The Next Level Athlete explains to his relative..
It's quite clear the relationship between the two is strong, a bond tightly held together. Respect and civil conversation.
"So you'll have a successful night then? A win over uh...The Joker?"
"Tha Joka...You gotta say it with the accent."
"Ah."
"And win, lose or draw Breakthrough will be a...pun fully intended...breakthrough for me. No man who hides behind a cheap stage name and some $2 facepaint can stop that. But with that being said, I'm aware of what Byron is capable of. He's viscous and merciless, kinda like me I guess. " Brett smiles that cocky smile before getting up off the couch and like a picker he begins to scavenge through boxes in search of something
Simon shakes his head with a light chuckle as well. Brett pulls out a kettle from one of the boxes in the living room before hurdling over furniture and boxes, making his way to his kitchen where more boxes and utensils are placed on the countertop and the tile flooring as well. His brother follows behind too.
"Coffee?" Carson asks, gingerly pulling out one mug from one of the opened boxes and is already half way going in for a second mug.
"Yeah sure, why not..." His brother answers, leaning on the countertop as Brett powers up the pot.
Brett knows exactly who Joka is, and as much as there is a strong outer shell shown to his brother. A part of him on the inside is scared of the man they call Tha Joka. Purely scared. Why? Not because of the way Joka looks, the man is painted on with facepaint and ink, it's just not something that would give Brett. Not because of the way Joka fights...Carson hasnt done this for very long and in terms of wrestling style...he's seen a hundred and one Joka's before. What makes Brett uncomfortable is the way this man conducts himself...the eeriness and the horror villain-esque manner. The way he laughs in the face of pain but still has the twisted mindset to inflict sharp, stinging pain on the opponent right after is what doesn't sit well with him.
But that doesn't mean he won't face Joka...It just means Byron has one advantage over Brett. Headgames.
Brett knows exactly who Joka is, and as much as there is a strong outer shell shown to his brother. A part of him on the inside is scared of the man they call Tha Joka. Purely scared. Why? Not because of the way Joka looks, the man is painted on with facepaint and ink, it's just not something that would give Brett. Not because of the way Joka fights...Carson hasnt done this for very long and in terms of wrestling style...he's seen a hundred and one Joka's before. What makes Brett uncomfortable is the way this man conducts himself...the eeriness and the horror villain-esque manner. The way he laughs in the face of pain but still has the twisted mindset to inflict sharp, stinging pain on the opponent right after is what doesn't sit well with him.
But that doesn't mean he won't face Joka...It just means Byron has one advantage over Brett. Headgames.
The kettle hisses after a few moments and along with some simple milk, sugar and coffee powder, a hot cup of caffeine is placed calmly in front of Simon. Both Carson brothers start sipping away at their coffee...
"So Joka is the first step, huh?" Simon calmly mutters, with a slight nod of his head.
"The first step is always the hardest is what they say...Joka...is going to be difficult for me...mentally." Brett focuses on doing his best to sugarcoat the fact that he fears that Joka's nature and actions will throw him off his game but it doesn't
fool his brother.
"He sounds like a psycho but you'll have to show him just how much of a psycho you can be in the ring, brother." Simon grins to which, Brett replies with one of his own. But through the grin he still knew that despite saying it to himself...Joka was going to be no joke.
Will Brett prevail over wrestling legend Tha Joka? Or will the experience edge and tom foolery that Joka produces play to the Clown Prince of Hardcore's advantage? Stay Tuned to find out.
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