Post by Deleted on Jan 25, 2015 2:26:43 GMT -6
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Two wrestlers stood across from one another in a smaller than normal ring with yellow ropes and a black canvas with Canadian Xtreme Wrestling in the middle in cursive lettering with a barbed wire graphic around it. The turnbuckles were black with CXW in yellow lettering as well as one of the wrestlers stood, hunched in the corner, his face painted in a unique manner, he was smaller, but had a great body, the other wrestler, tall, lanky with short brown hair as he stood focused as well as the referee held up a shiny belt in the middle of the ring.
The small crowd popped as the belt was held up into the air, it looked like the event was taking place in some sort of gymnasium with those old, dented folding chairs sat out in rows, they were almost full for the event tonight, the voice broke over the scene again.
As the referee gave the belt to the time keeper he signaled for the bell and as soon as he did the men went to lock up with one another and began tussling for position, they soon stopped though because suddenly “Champion” by Grinspoon hit the PA systems in the gym and slowly, wandering out of the makeshift entryway was a man with curly, silver dyed hair. He had on a long, black ring jacket and a pair of sunglasses on his face as he walked casually down aisle which was basically a barricade on either side of the chairs sat up there.
By listening, the announcer was trying to sift through his notes to see of Bronx was indeed supposed to come out, and due to his silence, this probably wasn’t supposed to happen. Bronx kept his gentle pace to the ring as he looked to the referees and motioned for the wrestlers to continue what they were doing as he paced around the ring, walking over to the announcer table where the lone announcer was and then slapped him right across the face, there was a thump from the microphone hitting the table as the crowd began to boo as one of the wrestlers, Pyxis slid from the ring to take up for the announcer.
Pyxis was met with a right hand from Bronx, then another as Bronx sent him into the ring post. Bronx then quickly caught the rebounding Pyxis and tossed him almost into the crowd with a belly-to-back suplex. Bronx turned around to see Ace running at him, the other wrestler as Bronx caught him with a belly to belly and tossed him into Pyxis. Valescence then walked over and picked Pyxis from behind and hit him with a German suplex on the outside which crumpled the man up. Quickly Bronx walked over to Ace and picked him up as well, he put Ace between his legs, lifted him up and power bombed him through the announcers table, all without losing his sunglasses.
Bronx dusted his hands off as officials ran from the back as Valescence grabbed the title belt at the time keepers table and put it around his waist, grabbed a microphone and slid into the ring. With a scowl, as the small crowd booed, Bronx walked over to the far ring post and hopped up and sat on the top turnbuckle as he cleared his throat into the microphone.
He shrugged and sniffed as he looked down at the belt on his waist and unhooked it before he lifted it up and looked at it, he had the crowd’s attention, the way he spoke tended to do that. He spoke in a slow cadence, like every word was methodically setting up for the next word, it was a gift he had.
Bronx tossed the title down to the floor which caused the plate to go flying off, all he did was sneer down at it as he looked back up, he clicked his tongue and tossed his head a few times, rolling his neck and then tilted his head back.
He tossed his head with this comment as Bronx leapt off of the turnbuckle and walked to the middle of the ring and looked around.
Bronx pointed down to the two bodies he left lying.
Valescence dropped the mic to boos as he walked over to the ropes and rolled out onto the apron and onto the floor where he stepped on the title belt on his way out and spit down on it as he walked up the ramp, shoving by officials as he didn’t even walk back through the curtain but instead out of the main exit, never to be seen again.
A new voice broke over the scene of Bronx with his back turned, a middle finger up as he walked out of the door, the scene paused as if it were controlled by a DVD player, computer or some other source. Indeed it was as sitting in a chair in front of a laptop computer, the current Bronx Valescence, his stringy hair falling around his broad shoulders as he leaned back in the chair he sat in, wearing a pull over, purple hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans as he shut his laptop and leaned up in the chair, running his hands over his face before he looked up.
Bronx shook his head causing his curly, silver locks to move side to side on his forehead as he sat back in the chair, it looked like he was in his own personal room, posters of pop culture bands, TV shows and movies littered the wall.
Valescence shrugged as he popped his laptop back open. Bronx clicked around a few times before he finally found what he was looking for, he put up four different windows on his browser, each profiling his opponents for the upcoming show in VOW.
A smirk crossed his face.
He scowled as he began clicking through the videos, pictures and bios of the men he would be facing, the same scowl on his face as he shook his head as he clicked through them.
Another smirk replaced the scowl that Bronx had on his lips as he crossed one leg over his knee as he scooted his chair closer to the desk.
Bronx winked and then clicked on the first picture on the laptop, a page for Marty Rollins came up, a brief little bio along with some video clips.
Valescence rolled his eyes as he pointed to the screen and then chuckled a bit at Marty appearing to look ‘tough’ in his picture for his bio.
The cursor moved up to the ‘x’ in the corner of the page for Marty.
With one click he was gone and the next face popped up, this one belonged to Michael Adrian, with his flaming red beard and hair.
Bronx said as he leaned back in his chair, the back gave way and leaned with him giving a slight squeak as he leaned back and forth making that annoying squeaking sound.
Bronx shrugged and raised his arms out to either side.
With that he clicked quickly off of Michael’s name and sat back up in his chair and rubbed his chin as he pulled up the next name on his list. Bronx kind of cringed back as he looked at a picture of Andrew Banner.
Bronx took the end of his finger and licked it and poked the screen of his laptop computer, making a small “hiss” noise a long with it as he laughed.
Valescence put up two fingers and his thumb and closed one eye as he pointed it toward the picture, bio and some highlight videos of Banner, and as he pulled the “trigger” the picture of Banner went away as he pulled up the final page.
Bronx rolled his eyes.
Valescence licked his lips at the thought.
With a bite of viciousness, Bronx closed the laptop and then spun his laptop around as he put his fingertips together and slowly moved them up and down, up and down. He thought for a moment before he spoke.
Bronx stood up.
With a wink he flipped the light off and his footsteps soon died away.
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“And what a main event we have for you tonight in CXW! These two young competitors, Pyxis and Ace Baldwin are ready to tear it up here in the main event!”
Two wrestlers stood across from one another in a smaller than normal ring with yellow ropes and a black canvas with Canadian Xtreme Wrestling in the middle in cursive lettering with a barbed wire graphic around it. The turnbuckles were black with CXW in yellow lettering as well as one of the wrestlers stood, hunched in the corner, his face painted in a unique manner, he was smaller, but had a great body, the other wrestler, tall, lanky with short brown hair as he stood focused as well as the referee held up a shiny belt in the middle of the ring.
The small crowd popped as the belt was held up into the air, it looked like the event was taking place in some sort of gymnasium with those old, dented folding chairs sat out in rows, they were almost full for the event tonight, the voice broke over the scene again.
“This will be the first time in CXW history we will have a Heavyweight Champion! All of these wrestlers train with one another in the Canadian Wrestling Academy, only one is deserving of the title, but either of these guys have made the rounds on the internet and the trainers of the CWA are raving about these two men!”
As the referee gave the belt to the time keeper he signaled for the bell and as soon as he did the men went to lock up with one another and began tussling for position, they soon stopped though because suddenly “Champion” by Grinspoon hit the PA systems in the gym and slowly, wandering out of the makeshift entryway was a man with curly, silver dyed hair. He had on a long, black ring jacket and a pair of sunglasses on his face as he walked casually down aisle which was basically a barricade on either side of the chairs sat up there.
“Wait…Wait a minute that is Bronx Valescence, he was out here earlier in a heck of a match earlier, the fans here are confused and so am I.”
By listening, the announcer was trying to sift through his notes to see of Bronx was indeed supposed to come out, and due to his silence, this probably wasn’t supposed to happen. Bronx kept his gentle pace to the ring as he looked to the referees and motioned for the wrestlers to continue what they were doing as he paced around the ring, walking over to the announcer table where the lone announcer was and then slapped him right across the face, there was a thump from the microphone hitting the table as the crowd began to boo as one of the wrestlers, Pyxis slid from the ring to take up for the announcer.
Pyxis was met with a right hand from Bronx, then another as Bronx sent him into the ring post. Bronx then quickly caught the rebounding Pyxis and tossed him almost into the crowd with a belly-to-back suplex. Bronx turned around to see Ace running at him, the other wrestler as Bronx caught him with a belly to belly and tossed him into Pyxis. Valescence then walked over and picked Pyxis from behind and hit him with a German suplex on the outside which crumpled the man up. Quickly Bronx walked over to Ace and picked him up as well, he put Ace between his legs, lifted him up and power bombed him through the announcers table, all without losing his sunglasses.
Bronx dusted his hands off as officials ran from the back as Valescence grabbed the title belt at the time keepers table and put it around his waist, grabbed a microphone and slid into the ring. With a scowl, as the small crowd booed, Bronx walked over to the far ring post and hopped up and sat on the top turnbuckle as he cleared his throat into the microphone.
‘Ya know…Ever since I was a little boy…All I’ve ever wanted is to be in this ring. I wanted championships, I wanted glory, I wanted fame. It’s the reason why I dominated the Amateur wrestling circuit when I was in high school, it’s the reason I was all state, it’s the reason you can still look up newspaper clippings about me, I dominated that world, so when I stepped into the squared circle, I was ready to dominate this world as well, but management had other plans.”
He shrugged and sniffed as he looked down at the belt on his waist and unhooked it before he lifted it up and looked at it, he had the crowd’s attention, the way he spoke tended to do that. He spoke in a slow cadence, like every word was methodically setting up for the next word, it was a gift he had.
“Yet, management doesn’t want a guy who can outwrestle everyone on their roster. They want a pretty boy who can’t hold a wrist lock and a guy who can’t find the mat to save his life, only wants to live on the top turnbuckle. I have the look, I have the technical ability…I am the best wrestler this piece of garbage school has to offer. Yet I’m not offered the spots around the country, I’m not offered tours to America to go wrestle. And holding this title…Feels empty…Because it’ll never mean anything because I DON’T HOLD IT.”
Bronx tossed the title down to the floor which caused the plate to go flying off, all he did was sneer down at it as he looked back up, he clicked his tongue and tossed his head a few times, rolling his neck and then tilted his head back.
“I am not a visionary, I am THE visionary. I see more than coming out here painted up like some Road Warrior lite. I see more than hip tosses and arm drags. I see a new age, where what goes on in this ring isn’t about popularity or who can make you laugh the hardest. I remember when this game was about talent, and how good you are in this ring, and make no mistake about it. I’m DAMN good.”
He tossed his head with this comment as Bronx leapt off of the turnbuckle and walked to the middle of the ring and looked around.
“So you can get one last GOOD look at Bronx Valescence, because the next time you see me won’t be in this awful country, it’ll be on television in the states tearing the roof off of every building I step into. The fact of the matter is people like this…”
Bronx pointed down to the two bodies he left lying.
“Are the reason I don’t like this anymore, people like this are the reason I won’t ‘graduate’ from a wrestling school, if that’s what you want to call this joke of a place. So take your pictures and say goodbye, to Bronx Valescence, because the next time you see me, it’ll be in the spotlight, it’ll be on the main stage, and I thank my lucky stars I won’t have to see any of you stupid people again.”
Valescence dropped the mic to boos as he walked over to the ropes and rolled out onto the apron and onto the floor where he stepped on the title belt on his way out and spit down on it as he walked up the ramp, shoving by officials as he didn’t even walk back through the curtain but instead out of the main exit, never to be seen again.
“I wasn’t always like that.”
A new voice broke over the scene of Bronx with his back turned, a middle finger up as he walked out of the door, the scene paused as if it were controlled by a DVD player, computer or some other source. Indeed it was as sitting in a chair in front of a laptop computer, the current Bronx Valescence, his stringy hair falling around his broad shoulders as he leaned back in the chair he sat in, wearing a pull over, purple hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans as he shut his laptop and leaned up in the chair, running his hands over his face before he looked up.
“I wasn’t always bitter, and it wasn’t always the case when I talked about the wrestling business it made me throw up in my mouth a little. I was white meat baby face who just wanted to win, and come out and please the fans. I would shake my opponents hand before the match, smile, and it didn’t matter whether I won or lost, rather than I how I wrestled, and if it were to the best of my ability? Heh…I was happy.”
Bronx shook his head causing his curly, silver locks to move side to side on his forehead as he sat back in the chair, it looked like he was in his own personal room, posters of pop culture bands, TV shows and movies littered the wall.
“I thought making my way into the more…Mainstream type of wrestling would be the cure, that maybe because slumming it up in Bingo Halls and seeing the same gimmick, the same guy each and every night. Seriously, I thought that maybe as I made my way up the ladder I would see some guys start to separate themselves from the pack, and then I landed in the VOW…The Visionaries of Wrestling.”
Valescence shrugged as he popped his laptop back open. Bronx clicked around a few times before he finally found what he was looking for, he put up four different windows on his browser, each profiling his opponents for the upcoming show in VOW.
“When you sign a contract for a federation like VOW, you picture unique styles, unique people. Wrestlers who want to change the business. It doesn’t matter if it’s the wily old veteran or the rookie cutting his teeth for the first time. When I arrived to do some media relations, I sat my bags down and wondered why I ever signed a contract.”
A smirk crossed his face.
“A few years ago, I would have been humbled at the opportunity to lock it up against some of these guys. It would have been honored for a new fan base to get a good look at Wrestling’s Best Kept Secret. I would have loved to show them why they use to call me ‘Sir Suplex’ but now? Now I don’t care if I split the curtains if the fans cheer, boo, hiss, throw trash at me, because I don’t have anything to prove to anyone but myself. I’m not trying to earn respect of the wrestlers or the fans. I’m here to suplex and maim these idiots until there’s nothing left of them, I’m ready to show management, why they’ve signed the best free agent on the market. This isn’t fun anymore, it’s a business. I came here expecting chicken salad and I look around the roster and all I see is chicken s#it.”
He scowled as he began clicking through the videos, pictures and bios of the men he would be facing, the same scowl on his face as he shook his head as he clicked through them.
“I expected a roster of greatness, but instead all I see is a bunch of special ed children at the special ed Olympics eating glue and picking their nose while they bicker back and forth at one another. I see unoriginality, I see a place where wrestlers go to die, not thrive…But good news for Visionaries of Wrestling? The Answer, has arrived.”
Another smirk replaced the scowl that Bronx had on his lips as he crossed one leg over his knee as he scooted his chair closer to the desk.
“And his name is Bronx Valescence. Wrestlers will call me the reckoning, the fans will call me the answer and the owners…They’ll call me the savior. I look at my match at Double Jeopardy and I understand the reasoning I’m on the preshow. I understand the reasoning that the winner gets a shot at the Zero Gravity title, but I want to let management know now. I will win this match. I will out wrestle these clowns tenfold, and I will not be offended when they give my Zero G title shot up to some other scrub. I’ve noticed that the World Visionary Championship is vacant, and maybe management doesn’t think anyone has been worthy enough, but I’ll tell you right now…There IS someone who is worthy enough and you’re lookin’ at ‘em.”
Bronx winked and then clicked on the first picture on the laptop, a page for Marty Rollins came up, a brief little bio along with some video clips.
“When you look down this list of names in this 5 way. There’s only one future world champion in it, you think any of the rest of these monkeys stand a chance? Take ol’ Marty Rollins for an example, look at him.”
Valescence rolled his eyes as he pointed to the screen and then chuckled a bit at Marty appearing to look ‘tough’ in his picture for his bio.
“First off, who names their kid ‘Marty’ in the first place? I can think of like, two Marty’s and they both sucked. Second off, if that isn’t his real name and just his ring name. Does he hate himself enough to name himself Marty? He looks like an extra in the Lord of the Rings, pointy ears and all. Marty claims to be a high flyer, claims to be a hard worker, yet it doesn’t look like he’s hit the gym a day in his life. Also, damn, if this match were a drinking game and you drank every time someone called themselves a ‘lone wolf’ you would be drunk before you got through naming all 5 guys. I only know a couple of things about Marty, he seems like a pretty dumb wrestler because all he likes to do is flip off of things, which if you think about it isn’t that good of a strategy. I picture him in the ring like when you play a friend in a video game and he just keeps trying to flip over the top rope at you and hit spring board moves. Look, bottom line is this. My dude has been in the business 7 years and has yet to win a major title…There’s a reason for that Marty.”
The cursor moved up to the ‘x’ in the corner of the page for Marty.
“You suck.”
With one click he was gone and the next face popped up, this one belonged to Michael Adrian, with his flaming red beard and hair.
“Uhhh, yeah this guy.”
Bronx said as he leaned back in his chair, the back gave way and leaned with him giving a slight squeak as he leaned back and forth making that annoying squeaking sound.
“Look guy, I’ve studied you. I know you’re this sort of…Family man. I know you’ve been through your hard times and you think that wrestling is somehow going to give you enough money to make a living or whatever. You see that’s the problem, Adrian. When you step into the ring with me, I’m not worried about money or how I’m going to feed my bratty, snotty nosed daughter. I’m worried about how many ways I’m going to make sure you’re not going to walk out of the ring the same man. If I break your neck and you’re out for the next year and your daughter is stuck eating TV dinners on the street, you think I give a damn? Nice guys like you, don’t make it in this business. This isn’t a business for a family man, and that squared circle isn’t a place for a damn hero…It’d be wise for you to step out, think about what you’re about to do, go home to your little girl and squeeze her a little tighter, because let’s be honest.”
Bronx shrugged and raised his arms out to either side.
“I’m going to be her favorite wrestler anyway, not her pops.”
With that he clicked quickly off of Michael’s name and sat back up in his chair and rubbed his chin as he pulled up the next name on his list. Bronx kind of cringed back as he looked at a picture of Andrew Banner.
“Holy…Almost forgot about this big, stringy haired mongoloid. Reminds me of another Banner I know, one of them is big, green and intimidating when they’re made upset. The other is some PTSD fueled, on steroids lunatic who, I guess didn’t get his rocks off in the Army so he decides to step into a wrestling ring. Who in the hell signed this dude? Are you on drugs? Are you on the drugs this guy should be on? Look, I found articles on this dude. But hey, good news for this flag waving troll is Banner, you’re a Packers fan. So you’re used to losing the big one.”
Bronx took the end of his finger and licked it and poked the screen of his laptop computer, making a small “hiss” noise a long with it as he laughed.
“It’s interesting because Banner does represent most of the American people. Sheep, the wool pulled over their eyes because they can’t admit that America isn’t the leading country in the world in anything, except obesity and teenage pregnancies. You’re delusional, Banner. Delusional that you actually think you can step into the ring with someone like me. I don’t care how many wars you’ve fought in, if you were such a decorated soldier and not a complete piece of garbage, you wouldn’t be trying your hand at wrestling. Where you should be is homeless, on the street and begging for money. I hope you don’t have any flashbacks come Double Jeopardy. I hope you don’t think you’re back in ‘Nam or wherever the hell you come from. Because you’re not stepping into whatever Candy Land base you were in at WAR. You’re stepping into MY house…MY ring…And this war at Double Jeopardy? It’ll be MY victory…”
Valescence put up two fingers and his thumb and closed one eye as he pointed it toward the picture, bio and some highlight videos of Banner, and as he pulled the “trigger” the picture of Banner went away as he pulled up the final page.
“Chase Michaels…”
Bronx rolled his eyes.
“Yet another professional wrestler that calls himself a lone wolf. Yet another unoriginal mouth breather who thinks he is gods gift to professional wrestling, but Michaels…You’re not as lucky as the others. You see, I’ve actually got to see you in the ring. I was wanting to be impressed last week as I sat in the back, through the curtains and watching you wrestle. I had heard okay things. I heard you may be as good of a wrestler as I was. As I watched, I noticed how sloppy you were. I noticed while the others may scream about how no-nonsense you were, I saw a sloppy punk who lands a couple of lucky elbows here and there. I saw a guy who comes out of the crowd, but nobody really wants to touch you because you don’t look like you’ve taken a bath in 30 years. I see a man who is a poser. Deep down, you’re that little loser everyone picked on in school, not a motorcycle riding badass. I can see right through you and your bulls#it lone wolf gimmick, Chase. I’m not calling you a “wolf”, you’re a puppy. You’re a puppy who is about to step into the big dogs yard. I hope you enjoyed your win, Chase. I really do, because I’m going to save you for last.”
Valescence licked his lips at the thought.
“I want to save you for last, and pick you apart. Piece by piece, limb by limb until you can’t walk. I want to prove you as the fake you are. YOU are what’s wrong with this business. YOU are the reason that this business I once loved is something I despise and am desperate to clean up. YOU are the last one I will eliminate, and YOU….Will never forget the night you stepped into the ring with Bronx Valescence. Don’t pray to win this match, Chase. Pray to me. Pray that I will let you live to fight another day and not break your damn neck and you won’t even be able to hop on that little tricycle and ride home from Double Jeopardy. Get ready to get exposed…”
With a bite of viciousness, Bronx closed the laptop and then spun his laptop around as he put his fingertips together and slowly moved them up and down, up and down. He thought for a moment before he spoke.
“I know the rest of the VOW will be tuning in and watching. Partly I don’t blame them because it’ll be their first time seeing actual talent. This match is a warning to each and every wrestler in the VOW. Nobody is safe, no title is safe. And for the VOW management, you’re welcome. You’re welcome to have someone to represent this pit of unoriginality. I’m not a visionary…I’m THE visionary in professional wrestling. I see past try-hards and lone-wolfs for what they really are. Power hungry, ego maniacs who are too afraid to tap into their true self. I’ve hacked the matrix. I’ve seen the code. I’m going on first, but you better, I’m the damn main event.”
Bronx stood up.
“For years I’ve been slumming it up in Canada, watching professional wrestling swirl in the toilet. It needs a change. It needs a face lift. There’s not one man who can more be the face of that revolution than me. It starts with VOW. At Double Jeopardy, with, or without the support of the fans, or management. I’m going to set the wrestling world on fire, and it all begins at Double Jeopardy. I’ll see you there, sucko’s.”
With a wink he flipped the light off and his footsteps soon died away.
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