Post by Zane on Dec 12, 2021 9:16:42 GMT -5
"It all fits a little too perfectly".
Zane gestures with his hands as he speaks, sort of in the vein one would ascribe to an Italian if one were boiling that person down to the old stereotype. It's hard to tell if this gesturing is intentional or an expression of his very clear frustration.
"This company suspended me for two years for no reason. After doing so, it stonewalled my attorneys, mocked me, and actively buried my legacy".
His gesturing continues, growing increasingly more demonstrative in direct proportion to his rapidly elevating emotional state.
"Then, when it 'returns' me to action, I don't get the normal big return that's normal for someone with my history and list of accomplishments, or even to someone who'd been nothing but blindly loyal to the company. No. I get a text telling me that I'm in the curtain jerker against some cosplaying rookie with a chip on his shoulder".
His hands rapidly ball into fists, then relax before repeating the process again. Every time they do so, he applies just enough extra pressure that it turns his hands a little whiter.
"So I show up and wrestle this galactic douchenozzle. I'm a little rusty and off my game and he gets some shots in. I give the new kid a little shine to build his career off of. Does he deserve this honor coming from me? Fuck no. But I do it anyway."
"Why', you may be wondering".
He chuckles dryly to himself.
"Because the business needs new people for the future" he states. "Even one-trick pony assholes like Liam Davies. Someone has to be given the opener night in and night out".
"Even when this company and this business repeatedly spit in my face, I protect them".
He shakes his head disgustedly.
"It's always the things you love the most which hurt you the worst".
His hands squeeze into fists again, this time going totally white.
"So Davies goes to hit our referee with a chair. I intercede and smash it back into his face after I move her out of the way".
He pulls up a steel chair. It's obviously the one he'd punched back into Davies face because the dent his fist left in it stands out like a bright light in the darkness. He looks at it and shakes his head irritably.
"I'm not going to lie, Liam," he continues with a brief grin. "Feeling that cold steel on my fist gave me a rush. That rush was magnified a thousandfold when I felt it hit your face and heard the corresponding metallic thud".
The smile suddenly evaporates from his face.
"Then I heard the bell".
He pauses and his eyes darken a bit.
"At first I couldn't figure out why". He states. "I thought that maybe Alice had DQed you for bringing the chair in".
His free hand balls into a fist again as the one holding the chair tightens. His face flushes red as his teeth clench into a baleful sneer.
"Then I heard Mitchell declare you the winner by disqualification".
He throws the chair to the floor. It lands with a loud clatter and sitters away on the apparently concrete floor.
"I saw red at that moment". He growls. "The entire world dissolved in front of me and I honestly don't remember much more than feeling an overwhelming desire to obliterate you".
He reaches to his side and picks something up. He brings it into view slightly to the side and looks at it with a smile.
"Apparently I did just that". He says cheerfully. "You see that bloodstain there..."?
He points at a red splotch on the dented backrest.
"That's you".
He smiles wistfully.
"I know every dent and stain on this chair". He explains. "It's a record of my career".
His expression momentarily darkens again, before reverting back to a semi- smile.
"You blathered something in your 'Horizons' promo about 'getting into my head, and gloated about it like it made you special".
He points at the chair, which has "Lord of Pain-Thriller" written on it in slightly faded black permanent marker.
"You didn't get into my head". He states bluntly. "The moment and my anger got into my head and took over. In that second as my DQ was announced, two years of rage and frustration, of humiliation and feelings of abandonment and of being disrespected took over".
"You had fuck all to do with it". He practically spits as he lifts the "Lord of Pain-Thriller" up and points at the "Liam" stain. "You were just another stain".
He puts the chair back down and his hands resume their balling and relaxing pattern.
"And you're still nothing more than a goddamned cosplayer at pro wrestling".
He takes a deep breath and slowly releases it. It appears to relax him, although his hands continue their weird dance.
"So what does that have to do with what I said at the beginning of this"?
He shakes his head again.
"Think about it". He says, gritting his teeth as he speaks.
"This company has gone out of its way to bury my legacy", he continues. "This began long before I was suspended. I didn't see it at the time, because I was still in 'loyal son' mode, but this began back when I put over the newly returned Travis Roberts. While I don't regret that per se because we had a great match and told a great story, it's still recorded as a loss for me. No one cares why I lost to a man who hadn't wrestled in three years…".
He closes his eyes and shakes his head in frustration. A frustration that's clear in his tone.
"They only care that I lost".
He opens his eyes, and they blaze with enraged fire. The kind of fire that only those who feel scorned can tap into.
"Back to the present day...".
He pulls his signature steel chair back up and looks at it. His face suddenly looks extremely tired.
"Our current World Champion is Donovan Hastings. He's in the middle of another highly successful title reign". He states. "Donovan and I used to be CoOp partners as 'Pain and Paradox'. This chair got its original name changed because of that. A lot of its stains and dents were put here by his head".
He smiles a distant-looking smile.
"I had a great time teaming with him". He exposits. "We had some insane adventures together. I got to become 'Unkie Zane' to his twins...".
His voice trails off.
"God I miss those two little angels".
There's a deep twist of pain in his voice, and for a second it almost looks like his eyes have teared up a bit. He swallows hard and loudly and it seems to reset him.
"And even after he betrayed me and cost me the World Championship, I couldn't bring myself to end him like I'd wanted to. There was just too much emotion and too many positive memories in the way".
He swallows hard again.
"And I thought of how the twins would feel if they saw me do that to their hero".
His voice cracks ever so slightly.
"I just couldn't bring myself to embrace that hatred again".
He shrugs.
"So I walked out".
His head drops.
"I'm glad I made that decision". He continues. "Because as much as that knife twist hurt in that moment, it all made so much sense why Donovan had done it once he explained it and apologized".
He raises his head again and there appears to be the stain of a tear on one of his cheeks.
"Fast forward to the announcement of my suspension". He says as he briefly closes his eyes again. "You were one of the few who stuck up for me, Donovan, and I still deeply appreciate that".
His eyes open and when they do, they have a look of internal conflict in them.
"Sloane was one of the others".
He runs the back of his hand across his eyes.
"Why do I tell you this"? He asks. "What does this have to do with my legacy"?
He briefly looks off to the side and takes another deep breath, letting it out slowly. Once he's done he looks back into the camera.
"Donovan, your current quest is to cement yourself as the greatest World Champion ever. You've mentioned that you want to beat every former World Champion you've never beaten before…".
"You said your last one is Sebastian".
He shakes his head again as his massive frame shudders.
"Your 'last one is Sebastian'...".
He exhales in frustration.
"That's how efficiently this company has erased my legacy".
He walks off without another word.
Zane gestures with his hands as he speaks, sort of in the vein one would ascribe to an Italian if one were boiling that person down to the old stereotype. It's hard to tell if this gesturing is intentional or an expression of his very clear frustration.
"This company suspended me for two years for no reason. After doing so, it stonewalled my attorneys, mocked me, and actively buried my legacy".
His gesturing continues, growing increasingly more demonstrative in direct proportion to his rapidly elevating emotional state.
"Then, when it 'returns' me to action, I don't get the normal big return that's normal for someone with my history and list of accomplishments, or even to someone who'd been nothing but blindly loyal to the company. No. I get a text telling me that I'm in the curtain jerker against some cosplaying rookie with a chip on his shoulder".
His hands rapidly ball into fists, then relax before repeating the process again. Every time they do so, he applies just enough extra pressure that it turns his hands a little whiter.
"So I show up and wrestle this galactic douchenozzle. I'm a little rusty and off my game and he gets some shots in. I give the new kid a little shine to build his career off of. Does he deserve this honor coming from me? Fuck no. But I do it anyway."
"Why', you may be wondering".
He chuckles dryly to himself.
"Because the business needs new people for the future" he states. "Even one-trick pony assholes like Liam Davies. Someone has to be given the opener night in and night out".
"Even when this company and this business repeatedly spit in my face, I protect them".
He shakes his head disgustedly.
"It's always the things you love the most which hurt you the worst".
His hands squeeze into fists again, this time going totally white.
"So Davies goes to hit our referee with a chair. I intercede and smash it back into his face after I move her out of the way".
He pulls up a steel chair. It's obviously the one he'd punched back into Davies face because the dent his fist left in it stands out like a bright light in the darkness. He looks at it and shakes his head irritably.
"I'm not going to lie, Liam," he continues with a brief grin. "Feeling that cold steel on my fist gave me a rush. That rush was magnified a thousandfold when I felt it hit your face and heard the corresponding metallic thud".
The smile suddenly evaporates from his face.
"Then I heard the bell".
He pauses and his eyes darken a bit.
"At first I couldn't figure out why". He states. "I thought that maybe Alice had DQed you for bringing the chair in".
His free hand balls into a fist again as the one holding the chair tightens. His face flushes red as his teeth clench into a baleful sneer.
"Then I heard Mitchell declare you the winner by disqualification".
He throws the chair to the floor. It lands with a loud clatter and sitters away on the apparently concrete floor.
"I saw red at that moment". He growls. "The entire world dissolved in front of me and I honestly don't remember much more than feeling an overwhelming desire to obliterate you".
He reaches to his side and picks something up. He brings it into view slightly to the side and looks at it with a smile.
"Apparently I did just that". He says cheerfully. "You see that bloodstain there..."?
He points at a red splotch on the dented backrest.
"That's you".
He smiles wistfully.
"I know every dent and stain on this chair". He explains. "It's a record of my career".
His expression momentarily darkens again, before reverting back to a semi- smile.
"You blathered something in your 'Horizons' promo about 'getting into my head, and gloated about it like it made you special".
He points at the chair, which has "Lord of Pain-Thriller" written on it in slightly faded black permanent marker.
"You didn't get into my head". He states bluntly. "The moment and my anger got into my head and took over. In that second as my DQ was announced, two years of rage and frustration, of humiliation and feelings of abandonment and of being disrespected took over".
"You had fuck all to do with it". He practically spits as he lifts the "Lord of Pain-Thriller" up and points at the "Liam" stain. "You were just another stain".
He puts the chair back down and his hands resume their balling and relaxing pattern.
"And you're still nothing more than a goddamned cosplayer at pro wrestling".
He takes a deep breath and slowly releases it. It appears to relax him, although his hands continue their weird dance.
"So what does that have to do with what I said at the beginning of this"?
He shakes his head again.
"Think about it". He says, gritting his teeth as he speaks.
"This company has gone out of its way to bury my legacy", he continues. "This began long before I was suspended. I didn't see it at the time, because I was still in 'loyal son' mode, but this began back when I put over the newly returned Travis Roberts. While I don't regret that per se because we had a great match and told a great story, it's still recorded as a loss for me. No one cares why I lost to a man who hadn't wrestled in three years…".
He closes his eyes and shakes his head in frustration. A frustration that's clear in his tone.
"They only care that I lost".
He opens his eyes, and they blaze with enraged fire. The kind of fire that only those who feel scorned can tap into.
"Back to the present day...".
He pulls his signature steel chair back up and looks at it. His face suddenly looks extremely tired.
"Our current World Champion is Donovan Hastings. He's in the middle of another highly successful title reign". He states. "Donovan and I used to be CoOp partners as 'Pain and Paradox'. This chair got its original name changed because of that. A lot of its stains and dents were put here by his head".
He smiles a distant-looking smile.
"I had a great time teaming with him". He exposits. "We had some insane adventures together. I got to become 'Unkie Zane' to his twins...".
His voice trails off.
"God I miss those two little angels".
There's a deep twist of pain in his voice, and for a second it almost looks like his eyes have teared up a bit. He swallows hard and loudly and it seems to reset him.
"And even after he betrayed me and cost me the World Championship, I couldn't bring myself to end him like I'd wanted to. There was just too much emotion and too many positive memories in the way".
He swallows hard again.
"And I thought of how the twins would feel if they saw me do that to their hero".
His voice cracks ever so slightly.
"I just couldn't bring myself to embrace that hatred again".
He shrugs.
"So I walked out".
His head drops.
"I'm glad I made that decision". He continues. "Because as much as that knife twist hurt in that moment, it all made so much sense why Donovan had done it once he explained it and apologized".
He raises his head again and there appears to be the stain of a tear on one of his cheeks.
"Fast forward to the announcement of my suspension". He says as he briefly closes his eyes again. "You were one of the few who stuck up for me, Donovan, and I still deeply appreciate that".
His eyes open and when they do, they have a look of internal conflict in them.
"Sloane was one of the others".
He runs the back of his hand across his eyes.
"Why do I tell you this"? He asks. "What does this have to do with my legacy"?
He briefly looks off to the side and takes another deep breath, letting it out slowly. Once he's done he looks back into the camera.
"Donovan, your current quest is to cement yourself as the greatest World Champion ever. You've mentioned that you want to beat every former World Champion you've never beaten before…".
"You said your last one is Sebastian".
He shakes his head again as his massive frame shudders.
"Your 'last one is Sebastian'...".
He exhales in frustration.
"That's how efficiently this company has erased my legacy".
He walks off without another word.