Post by thrashmetaldan on Jul 9, 2012 16:41:37 GMT -6
Damien sits in deep thought at his home. He stares deep into his fireplace as he caresses a glass of Pinot Noir. Behind him, his manager, Anthony Sanderson paces back and forth, nervously.
“The Grave Digger. I don’t know how much you know about this guy, Damien, but don’t take him lightly. He’s a champion after all.”
“Oh, dear, simple Anthony. I don’t take anything lightly. I didn’t leave Britain to be the whipping boy of some freakish oddity in a mask. I’m above him. Whether he’s a tag team champion or the bloody prince of Kentucky.”
He said the words “tag team” with bile.
Anthony huffs audibly. He obviously isn’t convinced.
“In any case, I don’t need to waste a great amount of thought on him. He’s talented, but Crane and I have him well scouted. He’s wild. Crazed. Unpredictable to anyone who hasn’t done their homework. But there is no secret in his arsenal I will not account for.”
“Oh, really? Cuz you’re the friggin badass who’s come to teach everyone a lesson? I don’t buy it Damien! I’ve had you under contract for over a year, and you’ve been a wrecking ball. But this is the big leagues! You’re only twenty-three! All these guys around here have been kicking ass for years! You can’t possibly know what you’re up against. Go ahead and hit me again if you want, but I’m not backing down. We’re in the USPW. I mean, you’ve only had your green card for a month, and you’re talking about tearing down the established order of things over here! That’s not how it works!”
Damien stands up immediately and throws the glass of wine into the fireplace, shattering it as the flames roar to life. He turns to face his manager, violently.
“This, ‘established order’ doesn’t need me to tear it down. It only requires someone to administer a slight push. The peons that inhabit it are old, outdated, or utilize the methods of those who are. I am the new archetype, Anthony! Doubt if you will, but at Freedom, I’m going to leave the Grave Digger in a broken, bloody heap. He won’t be able to resist the force I shall bring to bear against him. The Labyrinth relies on intimidation. I rely on skill, intensity, and the fact that I’m not a damned fool using scare tactics to try and make up for a lack of true ability. And I won’t hurt you Anthony.”
He smiles, wickedly.
“I can’t afford to. I’ve already wasted too much aggression on my glass of Pinot Noir. After the match however...”
He walks up to his manager and stares him directly in the eyes, unflinching.
“I would lock your door.”
He doesn’t know how to respond for a moment.
“Why in the hell do I put up with you?”
Damien’s eyes narrow a bit.
“Because of your absurdly high cut of my winnings. Now get out of my home. I have a match on Friday. You’re upsetting my contemplations.”
“The Grave Digger. I don’t know how much you know about this guy, Damien, but don’t take him lightly. He’s a champion after all.”
“Oh, dear, simple Anthony. I don’t take anything lightly. I didn’t leave Britain to be the whipping boy of some freakish oddity in a mask. I’m above him. Whether he’s a tag team champion or the bloody prince of Kentucky.”
He said the words “tag team” with bile.
Anthony huffs audibly. He obviously isn’t convinced.
“In any case, I don’t need to waste a great amount of thought on him. He’s talented, but Crane and I have him well scouted. He’s wild. Crazed. Unpredictable to anyone who hasn’t done their homework. But there is no secret in his arsenal I will not account for.”
“Oh, really? Cuz you’re the friggin badass who’s come to teach everyone a lesson? I don’t buy it Damien! I’ve had you under contract for over a year, and you’ve been a wrecking ball. But this is the big leagues! You’re only twenty-three! All these guys around here have been kicking ass for years! You can’t possibly know what you’re up against. Go ahead and hit me again if you want, but I’m not backing down. We’re in the USPW. I mean, you’ve only had your green card for a month, and you’re talking about tearing down the established order of things over here! That’s not how it works!”
Damien stands up immediately and throws the glass of wine into the fireplace, shattering it as the flames roar to life. He turns to face his manager, violently.
“This, ‘established order’ doesn’t need me to tear it down. It only requires someone to administer a slight push. The peons that inhabit it are old, outdated, or utilize the methods of those who are. I am the new archetype, Anthony! Doubt if you will, but at Freedom, I’m going to leave the Grave Digger in a broken, bloody heap. He won’t be able to resist the force I shall bring to bear against him. The Labyrinth relies on intimidation. I rely on skill, intensity, and the fact that I’m not a damned fool using scare tactics to try and make up for a lack of true ability. And I won’t hurt you Anthony.”
He smiles, wickedly.
“I can’t afford to. I’ve already wasted too much aggression on my glass of Pinot Noir. After the match however...”
He walks up to his manager and stares him directly in the eyes, unflinching.
“I would lock your door.”
He doesn’t know how to respond for a moment.
“Why in the hell do I put up with you?”
Damien’s eyes narrow a bit.
“Because of your absurdly high cut of my winnings. Now get out of my home. I have a match on Friday. You’re upsetting my contemplations.”