Post by EmbodimentOfFear on Jul 13, 2013 19:10:50 GMT -5
July 12
They are coming.
The hoards that nip at my heels for the championship they do not deserve. How could they?
A jealous brother, empowered by his brethern of the unwashed and unremarkable.
A snake in the grass, whom I imagine spends his late nights sitting in front of a wall of monitors, drumming his fingers against each other and mwa-ha-ha-ing like the conniving super-villian he likes to pretend he is.
A man with so little faith in himself, he begs to be denied championship opportunities.
AND MORE!!! Will the fun ever end?
While I wait with baited breath for the revelations and surprises that await me at the supposed tribute, I am comforted by the knowledge that I alone am worthy of this burden, this responsibility, this honor. None of them, not these "featured" three or whatever of the past is seen fit to be dug up, there is not a person among them that understands my position, my role, that which it demands of me, the things I must do.
As I ponder the weight that is upon me, I receive a message, an invitation, which I find most interesting...
He waited patiently with a smile on his face. Of course he did. The smugness of Jet Somers is something that Phrixus was well familiar with.
“Welcome to Headquarters, champ. I trust you’ve found your accommodations to be satisfactory?”
The hand was extended. Phrixus did not shake it, merely stared at the open palm, and walked past the pair to the meeting table.
“I have no use for your…accommodations. I won’t be staying long.”
“Well it’s there if you want it,” said Jet as he walked to his own seat. “Thank you for coming to see us.”
“While you’re here, you up for guesting on TPT tonight?”
Phrixus just stared at Pierce, for several seconds, and looked back at Jet.
“Get to your point.”
“I’ll have Rob put that down as a yes?”
Jet lightly touched his partner on the arm.
“I’m sure you were watching on Synergy when I announced that the PMN was taking control of Day Two of WrestleStock, the day on which you and I are featured, more importantly, the day that belt of yours is featured.”
“You flew me out here at great expense to make sure I was watching your segment?”
“We flew you out here at great expense because we view you as a vital part of this process. This day is entitled History Repeats Itself, and nobody is more knowledgeable and familiar with the history and legacy of the Cross-Hemsiphere Title than you are.”
"If all you intend to do is tell me things I already know, I think a simple phone call might have sufficed."
"We'd like you to host the day."
Jet's statement actually gave Phrixus a momentary pause.
"Explain."
"This entire day of the festival is going to be dedicated to honoring the history of this championship. I could host it, sure. But why settle for scraps when you can have the full meal?"
"I see."
After a moment, Phrixus stood and walked to the door, where he paused. His head turned slightly back towards the Weapons, not fully looking back at them.
"I will be in touch."
July 18
Somers thinks he is so very clever. He tries to appeal to my ego.
Fool.
As though I'm going to let down my guard simply because you tell me that you think you understand me, that you claim to respect me, and that you aspire to honor me.
I see this for the sham that it is. The latest of one man's over-complicated and elaborate plots to manipulate the sheep and grab power and attention for himself. No matter.
The last time I trusted Jet Somers, against my better judgement no less, he betrayed that trust to throw his lot in with Ooley and his Department. How fitting that as he extends his hand to me anew, it is once again with a partnership with Ooley looming in the darkness. It will be to the shock of no one should History Repeat Itself.
It amuses me, to be perfectly honest. Somers has handed me a blank check to make of this day what he will. No doubt he carries his namesake wild card in his back pocket, a final twist to the knife he believes he has planted in my back.
This is a story of the manipulator and the subservient.
Dance, puppet.
They are coming.
The hoards that nip at my heels for the championship they do not deserve. How could they?
A jealous brother, empowered by his brethern of the unwashed and unremarkable.
A snake in the grass, whom I imagine spends his late nights sitting in front of a wall of monitors, drumming his fingers against each other and mwa-ha-ha-ing like the conniving super-villian he likes to pretend he is.
A man with so little faith in himself, he begs to be denied championship opportunities.
AND MORE!!! Will the fun ever end?
While I wait with baited breath for the revelations and surprises that await me at the supposed tribute, I am comforted by the knowledge that I alone am worthy of this burden, this responsibility, this honor. None of them, not these "featured" three or whatever of the past is seen fit to be dug up, there is not a person among them that understands my position, my role, that which it demands of me, the things I must do.
As I ponder the weight that is upon me, I receive a message, an invitation, which I find most interesting...
* * * * *
He waited patiently with a smile on his face. Of course he did. The smugness of Jet Somers is something that Phrixus was well familiar with.
“Welcome to Headquarters, champ. I trust you’ve found your accommodations to be satisfactory?”
The hand was extended. Phrixus did not shake it, merely stared at the open palm, and walked past the pair to the meeting table.
“I have no use for your…accommodations. I won’t be staying long.”
“Well it’s there if you want it,” said Jet as he walked to his own seat. “Thank you for coming to see us.”
“While you’re here, you up for guesting on TPT tonight?”
Phrixus just stared at Pierce, for several seconds, and looked back at Jet.
“Get to your point.”
“I’ll have Rob put that down as a yes?”
Jet lightly touched his partner on the arm.
“I’m sure you were watching on Synergy when I announced that the PMN was taking control of Day Two of WrestleStock, the day on which you and I are featured, more importantly, the day that belt of yours is featured.”
“You flew me out here at great expense to make sure I was watching your segment?”
“We flew you out here at great expense because we view you as a vital part of this process. This day is entitled History Repeats Itself, and nobody is more knowledgeable and familiar with the history and legacy of the Cross-Hemsiphere Title than you are.”
"If all you intend to do is tell me things I already know, I think a simple phone call might have sufficed."
"We'd like you to host the day."
Jet's statement actually gave Phrixus a momentary pause.
"Explain."
"This entire day of the festival is going to be dedicated to honoring the history of this championship. I could host it, sure. But why settle for scraps when you can have the full meal?"
"I see."
After a moment, Phrixus stood and walked to the door, where he paused. His head turned slightly back towards the Weapons, not fully looking back at them.
"I will be in touch."
* * * * *
July 18
Somers thinks he is so very clever. He tries to appeal to my ego.
Fool.
As though I'm going to let down my guard simply because you tell me that you think you understand me, that you claim to respect me, and that you aspire to honor me.
I see this for the sham that it is. The latest of one man's over-complicated and elaborate plots to manipulate the sheep and grab power and attention for himself. No matter.
The last time I trusted Jet Somers, against my better judgement no less, he betrayed that trust to throw his lot in with Ooley and his Department. How fitting that as he extends his hand to me anew, it is once again with a partnership with Ooley looming in the darkness. It will be to the shock of no one should History Repeat Itself.
It amuses me, to be perfectly honest. Somers has handed me a blank check to make of this day what he will. No doubt he carries his namesake wild card in his back pocket, a final twist to the knife he believes he has planted in my back.
This is a story of the manipulator and the subservient.
Dance, puppet.