|
Post by Violet Amelia Holt on Jan 30, 2022 17:25:41 GMT -5
It's a quiet night in the Dog Pound Academy as Violet Amelia Holt is sitting on one of the wooden benches near the far wall. Her mind is racing with multiple thoughts running free like wild dogs. The lights inside the Academy are slowly turning off as Violet stands up to her feet. She is wearing a dark hooded jacket with tight jeans and her hiking boots on her feet. She moves across the granite floor with ease. The last employee exits the front door as Violet gets up onto the ring apron.
Violet stands to her feet as her eyes scan across the empty ring. Her hands grip the top rope very tightly before stepping between the bottom and middle ropes. Her pinkish blonde hair is tied up in a sharp ponytail. She looks around assuming that she is completely alone.
Violet Amelia Holt: Six years! For six years, I have been in the wrestling business. From the two years I had in SCW and the four years I spent busting my ass on the independent circuit; I knew that I was born to do this. So many times, I hear people talking about how they were called to be a wrestler. Some say they were made for this business. I don't doubt they believe those lies but trust me. No one is prepared for what this business can bring.
Violet pauses for a minute as she drags her fingers across the top rope.
Violet Amelia Holt: This ring is special. This ring is the only place that keeps me from going completely insane. No one knows how hard I will defend this ring. I will defend this ring from all invaders. This is what is called passion. So many times, my passion has been questioned. So many times, my heart has been questioned. Do you know what I tell everyone who questions me? I tell them to go fuck themselves. The fact I am willing to go through any lengths to achieve my goals should tell you how passionate I am about this business. So many people want to constantly tell people how passionate they are but that's because they are trying to convince themselves. They want the world to believe they have passion when they don't even believe it themselves. Let's take Kallie as an example for someone who is the biggest fraud in this entire match. Her only claim to fame is beating Jonathan Sanders but let's face it. Jonathan was probably having an off night. Now, she thinks she can beat anyone. I would believe her if she didn't get beat by Lexi on the last Riot. Kallie, you should stay in the kiddie pool where you will be safe. Because the deeper you go, the meaner the predators are going to be and there will be no one to save you. I don't care how many coattails you are riding to even get in this business because the moment I latch my hands around her neck you will be begging for your floaties.
Violet smirks as she moves away from the ropes. She lifts her eyes up toward the ceiling.
Violet Amelia Holt: Do you want to know why I am looking up at the ceiling? I'm looking to see how long Canada is going to sit back and do absolutely nothing. I mean how many wars have they actually fought. I don't remember any Canadian being honored in any war that has happened throughout history. That's because deep down, all Canadians are cowards. The only way Canadians do anything is through sports. They control Hockey. There are thousands of professional wrestlers who are Canadians but how many of them actually make an impact. Why am I talking about Canadians? It's because I am facing a political ass clown who wants everyone to believe he can be an “American” hero. If Devon Ryder wants to be a hero so fucking badly then I will find great pleasure in being that American villain he can't defeat. I will be the Harley Quinn to his Batman persona. You see Devon. I am the one American who despises anyone who uses this ring for a political agenda. If that is the only reason you compete then I will have no other choice but to physically remove you from the wrestling business. While you abstain from using weapons, I find them to be extremely useful. I will enjoy breaking your jaw and crushing your dreams.
Violet stops walking and sits on one of the turnbuckles. She crosses her right leg over her left knee while leaning back a bit.
Violet Amelia Holt: What can I say about Miles Kasey? I could call him a loser but we already knew that right Miles. I mean what have you done to even be considered a threat? Hell, I would be better off fighting some random dude off the fucking street. At least, he could put up an actual fight. I don't care that you are a member of Wolfslair. I don't care that you use them for clout and hoping it would strike fear into your opponents. You see, I am not afraid of a man who was dropped into a tank of piranhas. I will dispose of you in the early parts of the match so we won't be subjected to watch your pathetic ass trying to be badass. If anything I will be doing you a favor then you can still leave with your dignity. However, the moment you decide to continue then I will be right there with more violence than you can handle.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE VIOLET?
A voice calls out as Violet turns her head to see her dad standing in the doorway that leads to back offices. Violet doesn't budge at first as Dustin crosses his arms across his chest.
Violet Amelia Holt: I am verbalizing what I plan on doing to the three people I am forced to face.
Dustin Holt: You need to leave.
Dustin tells her with a harsh tone in his voice. Violet cocks her head to the side.
Violet Amelia Holt: Why? This is my gym.
Dustin takes one step closer while dropping his arms to his side.
Dustin Holt: I'm not going to tell you again Violet. You need to leave.
Violet hops back down and stands next to the ropes.
Violet Amelia Holt: No! I am not leaving unti……
Dustin Holt: ENOUGH!!! You will leave or I'll have you escorted off the premises.
The sudden change in Dustin’s demeanor catches Violet off guard as he turns his back on her. Violet steps through the ropes and looks at her father.
Violet Amelia Holt: Why are you acting like this dad? You normally don't talk to me in this manner.
Dustin Holt: You have fifteen minutes to leave or I will ban you.
The last part of that lingers as Violet hops down off the ring and runs after her father.
Violet Amelia Holt: Daddy, is everything O…..
Violet places her hand on her father's shoulder hoping to get an answer. Dustin turns slowly as Violet sees a look in his eyes that she hasn't seen before.
Violet Amelia Holt: Daddy!?
Dustin doesn't say a word as he turns back towards his office and walks away from Violet. Violet is highly confused but doesn't chase after him. She looks back at the ring before heading towards the front door. Dustin stops, watches his daughter heading towards the door and throws a massive punch into the punching bag hanging in front of him. The bag swings violently for a while as Violet steps out onto the sidewalk.
Violet Amelia Holt: I don't know what the hell is going on with my dad but I'm not going to let that hold me back. In fact, I am going to let that fuel me more. I am going to hurt Kallie physically. I am going to ruin Devon mentally. I am going to fuck Miles mentally by straight up overlooking his boring ass. This is my moment and no one is going to stop me. As for you Miss Puppies, you better keep your nose out of my business or I will be forced to leave three broken bodies as a calling card. These idiots have no idea how crazy I can fucking get but trust me they will find out the hard way.
As Violet is talking, she catches a glimpse of her father just standing at the glass door. She lifts her hand up towards the window but Dustin doesn't acknowledge her. He turns away as a small tear forms in the corner of her eye. Violet places her hand back into her pocket while walking down the sidewalk.
The scene slowly fades as it shows Dustin walking into a dark room and closing the door right behind him.
|
|
|
Post by Miles Kasey on Jan 30, 2022 23:56:15 GMT -5
“You better not hurt her!” Miles knew it was coming from Aiden eventually sometime as soon as the match was announced. It took a few days for them to be in the general vicinity of each other.
“Me?! I’ve watched that hellcat train!” Miles yells back across the room, with a smirk on his face, “You better remind her about my safe word.”
“Meringue?”
“What the fu....No, it’s teal. I told her on twitter when the match was announced.” Miles looked behind him as Aiden laughed at him, so Miles just flipped him off, “...asshole.”
Aiden just kept laughing, waving as he headed out the door.
Was he that far off his game that he took a good ribbing seriously and never saw it coming? Hard to believe that being on the bench for as long as he has been, especially seeing that he was a former United Champ but his name wasn’t called.
So imagine his surprise to see his name on the list for Riot starting February. Someone must have finally remembered that he was working there. Course him showing up to watch Morgan take on Dick Rider and kick his ass, like he knew she would, may have jolted someone’s memory.
He loved New Orleans and he was bored with sitting at home and not being productive anywhere but the gym. It felt good to just be there but still...
Something felt off.
This wasn’t the same PWS: Apex anymore. They grew without him.
But he grew without them.
It was a mutual growth and neither one needed the other anymore but he was missed...or so he was told.
And in a strange way, he missed PWS: Apex. But from this range, his aim was bound to improve.
He caught himself daydreaming about it all, the then and the now...and as he was shaking the cobwebs up and positioning himself to go another round with the squat rack...
A random voice calls out, “YO KASEY! You got a visitor!”
He would glance over his shoulder just in time to see a gorgeous redhead stride into the room with a smile on her face as she said ‘Hello’ to everyone that passed by, “Well, hello gorgeous.” Miles said with a bit of a draw out specifically for Becca Larkin. The woman had him wrapped around her little finger and she knew it but it was all to themselves. They didn’t make a big ‘To-do’ out of what this was, whatever it was.
“Hey abs, you almost done with your sesh?”
He nods as he takes a big gulp of water, “Just another round and I was gonna call it. What brings you by?”
Becca is so good at this flirting thing that he fully believes that she doesn’t even know she does it, but the simplest things like tucking her hands in her backpocket and rocking back and forth and nibbling on her bottom lip had him smiling even brighter, “I have a little surprise for ya.”
“Ya do? Good surprise or...”
She smirked and just nods, “It’s good. Trust me.”
That brought a boyish smirk to his face cause he just couldn’t help himself with her, “Does it involve a secret?”
“Not the store....” He almost looked disappointed there for a minute before she pipes in, “At least not this one.”
“Well that narrows it down.”
“Besides, I wouldn’t have brought it with me if it was that.” she said slapping him in the shoulder.
“Abuse!”
“Shut it.” she glares at him, “Just...hold on, let me get it.”
And before he has a chance to say anything, she runs off and through the door. He turns and has decided to give up on the workout for the day. He knew it’d be pointless with her around anyways. As he began to rack the weights, he heard the door open and close and didn’t bother to look up as he finished up before he heard a female voice pop up that was not Becca’s.
“Hello, son.”
Miles freezes for a moment before standing up fully and turning around coming face to face with the woman who birthed him and his twin sister, Brianna, who raised him and then told him to go make something of himself.
What a failure that’s been so far.
“Ma? Wha...what are you- How are you?”
“Surprise!” Becca pipes in, “I know you said something about not being able to go home but...” and she notices Miles isn’t exactly comfortable at the moment, “I figured this would be awesome, almost a late Christmas present.”
Miles just smiles and shakes his head, “Becks, it’s fine. I’m just...Mom.”
“Surprise to see me, boy?”
“Something like that. I seem to recall that you’d never get on a damn plane, even if your life depended on it.”
“Well when this young lady called me and explained to me what she had in mind, well lets just say she made a really convincing argument.”
“What can I say, my powers of persuasion are better than I thought.”
“And Bri?”
“She had to stay back, flying in her condition isn’t advisable at the moment,” Mama Kasey says and when her son’s face creases in confusion, “I forgot to tell you...she’s 3 months pregnant.”
Miles' jaw just drops and he shakes his head, “Wait...hold up...”
“We just found out honestly. She wasn’t feeling well over the holiday’s...” his mother says, “Turns out that idiot boyfriend has knocked her up.”
“Well...that explained her mood swings when I talked to her lately. ...so I’m gonna be an uncle.”
“I’m gonna be a grandmother...which I didn’t think it’d be her giving me that first with the way you were carrying on.” her mother looks at Becca, “No offense dear.”
Becca sees where Miles’ mom is going so she just shrugs and says, “That’s alright, he just carries on with me now.”
“And on that note.” Miles says, grabbing his stuff, “I need to shower. Let me do that and I’ll treat you ladies to some dinner and then maybe we’ll show you the sights.”
Becca and Ms. Kasey continues to chat as Miles walks to the locker room. Just as he reaches the door he hears his mother burst out laughing.
Yeah...Becca is definitely a keeper.
-----------------------
“I’m not even sure where to begin. I know I have sorta been around but honestly, it’s almost like starting over.”
Miles says sitting ever so nonchalantly in a chair in a empty room. Just a boy and his camera.
“I know damn well Kallie is going to be out for everyone’s ass in this match after what happened with Alexis on Riot. She is not one to fuck around and even though she is still new, even though she is a fellow member of Wolfslair, she is going to attempt to claw my eyes out if I get in her way. Sadly, I have no choice, love.”
He leans back in the chair.
“I don’t know why but for some reason, I needed time to be anywhere but here lately. And I have had to sit and watch others really step up. Devon Ryder has shocked everyone too and well there’s Violet. You, young lady, have a chip on your shoulder. Same for you Devon Feels rather familiar. But you can’t seem to get it focused....also feels familiar.”
He smirks for a moment, rubbing his chin a moment.
“You all have this absolutely amazing opportunity ahead of you on this show in Houston. My brain has been going in several hundred different directions but know that despite how this match goes, I am back in PWS on a full time basis. And I don’t think people realize what that really means.”
And with that he stands, sticking his hands into his pockets and shrugs.
“You are all about to find out.”
|
|
|
Post by Devon Ryder on Jan 31, 2022 0:05:51 GMT -5
ACT 1: A MOMENT OF SELF-DOUBT
State Farm Arena Atlanta, GA, USA 7 December, 2021 8:59 PM EDT
*Numb.*
*That's all I feel walking to the back after my “confrontation” with Cleo Phillips just now. Numb. No arrogance, no anger, no sense of satisfaction or superiority that my message was delivered…not even the sorrow and regret that I'd suffered in the moment. Just...emptiness. I move on autopilot; my legs carry me back to gorilla almost of their own accord, totally independent of any input from my conscious mind. Not that I could offer any right now, anyway. In this state I’m just…gone. Disconnected. I can still hear Z-Money cursing out police officers somewhere in the distance, but everything is…hazy. Dreamlike. My senses operate as if I’m thinking through six metres of thick sludge. I haven’t felt this way in a long time, not since…well, since I met Desi. She’s always been my rock, the lighthouse that pulls me back to shore when I get…like this. When I delve too deep into my own mind. And it is her voice that pulls me back now.*
“Devon? Are you alright, my love?”
*I blink. Once, twice, shaking my head sharply and bringing a hand to my temple as I come back to the present. I become aware of her hands, too, one of them gripping my own and the other coming up to gently caress my cheek. I lean into her touch, placing my hand over hers and pulling her against me. She gasps and lets out a soft giggle, but I can’t smile. I try, but I’m still feeling…conflicted. Uncertain. Lost. She looks at me and her brow furrows; she can tell I’m in too deep. That I’m not myself right now. She rests her head against my chest, humming a soft lullaby as one hand curls around the back of my neck, tracing the flesh ethereally with her fingertips in an attempt to calm my nerves. I try to meet her gaze, I try to let myself relax, but my attention is stolen by the end of the hallway. Just beyond the merchandising table, by the arena’s main entrance and exit, I can see Cleo Phillips and Z-Money being escorted out by the police that I called to apprehend them. A small crowd has amassed to witness the event, though they are of course being held back by a few of the junior officers, and just before they leave the arena the champion glances back over her shoulder and her eyes lock with mine, glaring with a furious intensity into the very fibre of my soul. I do not blame her for her hatred; in her position, I would hate me too. But it does little to alleviate my worries.*
“Am I a good man, Desiree?”
*She stops her humming and looks up at me quizzically.*
“What? Of COURSE you are, amor, how could you possibly not think so?”
*I feel my lips curl into a frown as I gaze down at my beloved. I can see her heart break to even consider the notion, and my own heart breaks for inflicting that upon her. She has always been so sensitive, so empathetic to what ails me - and I have been the same for her. When one of us is suffering, the other suffers with them. We are, in all things, a truly equal partnership, and I am so blessed to call her mine. But we made a vow, the two of us, at the inception of our relationship; we swore to one another that we would be 100 percent transparent in all of our communication. The Way of Absolute Candour. No matter HOW we are feeling, how difficult or painful the subject may be for both of us, we MUST discuss it openly. It has served us well so far, and I am not about to break our covenant now. Not for this.*
“I just…I’m not sure if I did the right thing. I think I may have gone too far.”
*She frowns, and I don’t blame her. I feel her palm rest on my cheek and I lean against it again, the gentle stroking motions of her thumb soothing some of the trepidation in my mind. She locks eyes with me and her expression is stern. It’s the look she gives me whenever I’ve said anything self-deprecating, or when I doubt my own abilities. The ‘Latina Death Glare’, we call it. I can’t help smiling when I think of that.*
“Babe, no. Listen to me.”
*She chides, and my expression becomes serious again. I will ALWAYS listen when she speaks to me, no matter how trivial or what else is on my mind. Her voice is my ambrosia, and this occasion is no different.*
“You said you wanted to send a message to Cleo Phillips, right?”
*I falter. The question was unexpected.*
“Well, yes, I did. But-”
*She cuts me off.*
“And that’s exactly what you did. You wanted her to understand WHY you believe what you do, to see what you’re fighting for, and I think you showed that perfectly. You have nothing to feel bad about, alright?”
*Dismay creases my brow and writes itself across my forehead. My lips purse as I lock eyes with her, wondering if my uncertainty is still written within them. I am confident it is, especially based on her reaction. Warmth, concern and sympathy, genuine as ever. I heave a soft sigh and look towards the door, the last of the officers now making their way outside as the onlookers disperse.*
“I hope you’re right, my love, but I just…can’t help feeling as though I’ve become part of the problem. Like I just had a hand in perpetuating the very systems that I - that WE - fight against!”
*I pause, but not long enough to invite an interjection. She seems to realize I’m only gathering my thoughts.*
“There must have been a better way to illustrate my point.”
*It is Desiree’s turn to frown now, and her eyes shine with that intensity I love so much as she takes hold of both my cheeks, forcing me to face her.*
“Devon, no. This is just your perfectionism and anxiety talking, and you KNOW what I'm going to say about that, don't you?"
*I can't help but grin. I do, in fact, know PRECISELY what she'll say.*
"Fuck those bitches?"
*She grins at me.*
"FUCK those bitches, exactly! They know NOTHING about you really, they only want to make you doubt yourself and forget how brilliant, kind, compassionate, loving, talented, driven, and ALL those wonderful things you are! But you are more than your negative thoughts. okay? You don't need to dwell on them."
*Desiree pauses now, but I do not interrupt. I can see in her eyes that she’s not finished, and she pulls my face close to hers, so our foreheads meet as she speaks the next line.*
“And maybe you DID make a mistake, babe, but do you know what that means? It means you’re human, and all you can do is your best. Nobody but you expects you to be perfect.”
*I let my eyes fall closed, feeling the tears well up. I try to stop them, but it’s far too late by now, and in seconds I fall to pieces in her arms. She simply holds me, nuzzling softly against my cheek and whispering in my ear.*
“But you will ALWAYS be perfect to me, meu amor. Remember that I love you, okay?”
*I can only nod. I’m speechless. She always knows exactly what to say to drive away my darkness, to help me keep perspective on the things that really matter. I need to let her know how much I appreciate this, and EVERYTHING she does. Show her how much she means to me. That she’s my light. My fire. My beautiful Brazilian angel. I would say all of this and MORE…but I have no words just now. And even if I did, even MY extensive vocabulary would fail to adequately describe the adoration that I feel. I could write a million poems in a million tongues, and it would STILL never be enough. I hope this act comes close.*
“I love you too, meu anjo.”
*My arms snake around her waist and pull her in so I can feel her heartbeat against me, as I capture her lips in a deep and passionate kiss imbued with all the fire I can muster. She melts, and so do I. I feel her arms wrap around my neck, the mists inside my mind finally clearing as I come back to myself again. I’m alive. We stay that way for a long few moments, entwined, just lingering in the closeness before she slowly pulls away. I suppose even radiant Brazilian angels need to breathe. Grinning ear to ear, she looks up to meet my gaze. To my surprise, I am beaming too.*
“So I guess this means you’re feeling better?”
*I have to laugh, my grin becoming sheepish.*
“No fair, using my words against me like that.”
*She smirks.*
“It’s totally fair! After all, I learned from the best.”
*It’s my turn to smirk now. I often wonder if it’s healthy, the way she polishes my ego…but I adore it, and I’d never change a thing.*
“You did indeed. Eu te amo, Desi.”
*She smiles, taking my hand in hers as a PA approaches to politely redirect us before the next match begins. We have been lingering behind the curtain just too long.*
“Eu te amo, Devon. Eu te amo muito.”
*I inhale sharply as we find our way to one of the many lounges in the back to watch the remainder of the show. I know what the next step is, and with Desiree by my side, I KNOW that I’ll complete it. And it will be a fine Crusade indeed.*
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ACT 2: WHAT WE’VE BECOME
Devon Ryder’s Apartment Ottawa, ON Canada 29 January, 2022 1:30 PM EDT
“Do you think about the future?”
*Fade in. We find ourselves in a well-furnished modern apartment, decorated in a modern aesthetic, with sunlight streaming in through huge picture windows and a glass balcony door. We appear to be standing in the modest living room, with a powder-blue cloth sofa sitting against the far wall, offset by a black-and-white striped throw-rug beneath it, bearing tribal patterns. Desiree de La Roche sits atop this sofa, wearing jeans and a tight-fitting black turtleneck, with her curly hair tied up in a loose bun. Her face is buried in her cellphone and a steaming “Canada” mug sits on the coffee table in front of her. The whole ensemble sits atop a dark hardwood floor and in front of off-white walls with a huge modern art print in deep reds and yellows hanging above it, giving a splash of vibrant colour to the otherwise understated room. As the camera pans out, we can see the source of the question we came in on - Devon Ryder - standing by the balcony door just to Desiree’s right, with a mug of what appears to be hot chocolate clutched in his right hand. His left sits loosely in the pocket of his own blue jeans, thumb hooked through the nearest belt loop, and he raises the mug to his lips for a moment before he speaks.*
“I do. I consider it a lot. Where we’ve come from, as a people, the direction society is headed…I can get lost in it some days. I know that isn’t always healthy, but I do try not to dwell on it too often, lest I give myself to cynicism. These days, it seems, not much news is good.”
*Devon pauses, here, sipping his hot chocolate once again. He briefly turns away from the window, facing the camera at his side.*
“I’ve tried to focus on the…bright spots, in the past. The few things that ARE trending upwards, the places where we’ve actually managed to make some positive progress in spite of overwhelming odds. It is not always easy. These sorts of stories are in unfortunately short supply, especially when compared with the glut of news about anti-vaccine protests, rising Western fascism, climate change catastrophes and political misinformation running rampant through society today. We see these stories all over the world; the human rights abuses and literal concentration camps for Uighur muslims in China; Russia’s ever-expanding list of war crimes and unethical invasions; the UK’s gradual crackdown on immigration and the slashing of social services in the wake of Brexit; even here. The Canadian government’s mishandling of the Keystone XL and Trans-Mountain pipelines, its CONTINUING injustices towards the indigenous communities who will be most adversely-affected by the results of those projects, is absolutely disgraceful. And that’s not the worst of it.”
*Devon pauses here.*
“There is a…culture emerging in Canada, both privately and politically, that absolutely horrifies me to my core. A culture of religious intolerance and bigotry based on the deity that some Canadians choose to worship. It really picked up in the mid-2000s, under Prime Minister Stephen Harper, who mimicked many of George W. Bush’s policies aimed at restricting travel for those of the muslim faith in the wake of 9/11. He even proposed a ‘national horrific acts’ hotline which was a thinly-veiled attempt at targeting muslims who made racist white people uncomfortable in public spaces. Now, we DID vote Harper out for that - he was proposing to implement it in the 2015 election, and it’s widely believed that his poorly-disguised racism was one of the reasons he lost to Justin Trudeau - but that did not make these problematic attitudes vanish. Even today, while our Canadian parliament has CLAIMED they are against Islamophobia and discrimination in all its forms, we have seen frighteningly little ACTION to back up those words.”
“For example: today was ‘National Day of Action Against Islamophobia’; though, turning on the news, you’d never know it if you were not already informed. The date also corresponds with the National Day of Remembrance for the Quebec City Mosque Attack. For those unaware, it commemorates a tragic date in 2019 when six people were killed and 19 were injured in a racially-motivated terrorist attack at a Quebec City mosque. It was a truly horrific act that remains a black mark on our country’s history…and yet very little resulted from it. We DID eventually see an increase in gun control legislation, but it took nearly an entire calendar year and ANOTHER mass shooting - the worst in Canadian history - to finally prompt that progress. Even in the wake of the killing just last year of a family of four in London, Ontario, the leaders of all our political parties spoke quite sympathetically at the funeral…but failed to sign a NON-LEGALLY-BINDING missive to officially condemn islamophobia in Canada! It seems our leaders are very content to share life-affirming WORDS on the subject, but rather paralyzed when it comes to actually taking any corrective actions.”
*Here Devon pauses, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself before continuing.*
“Now, hearing me admit all of that may come as a shock to some of you. I know there seems to be this emerging perception of me online as some sort of…out-of-touch Canadian supremacist, an uber-patriot who ignores his country’s faults to place it on a pedestal above everybody else. But that has never been my aim. I have never shied away from addressing the problems we deal with here in Canada, and the fact that we as a nation have much to improve upon as well. But NONE of that makes it any less true when I claim the United States is even worse than we are. None of that invalidates ANYTHING I have ever said about America. Because those claims are supported by evidence. Those theories are NOT fabrications, they are uncomfortable and inconvenient truths about a deeply-broken, flawed democracy. A flawed democracy which I do, truly, in my soul, believe my country to be superior to. Maybe that DOES make me a fool. Maybe, like all Heroes, I am the Villain in somebody else’s narrative…but maybe I am not.”
*Devon pauses, here, sipping his hot chocolate again as he turns away from the window.*
“There is a Chinese proverb I have heard. ‘The snake, knowing itself, strikes swiftly.’ Those of you familiar with it will know that saying comes from my favourite video game, Metal Gear Solid. Now, I can’t speak to its veracity - I know such things are often misquoted or entirely fictional, and the game’s writer never cited any sources - but I CAN say it was effective. The phrase became a…mantra, of sorts, for me. A philosophy that I tried to adopt to influence my behaviour. It is designed to quell anxiety; effectively, the quote means that as long as you know that what you’re doing is in line with your true nature, there should be no hesitation in doing it. I had…lost sight of that, for a while. I had forgotten, in the chaos with Cleo Phillips and the United Title, who I was. Who I AM. I allowed uncertainty to creep back in. And it showed in my performance.”
*Here, Devon pauses, his eyes downcast as he’s clearly pensive.*
“I am not upset that I failed to capture the United Title; I made no secret going INTO that match that walking out with the belt was not my goal. But what I wanted to do was give Cleo Phillips the greatest match of her career so far. I wanted to wrestle her to her limit, to take her further than Nick Madison or Mike Hawk or even Sierra Williams had ever taken her. I wanted our match to go down in history as the best of the best that PWS has ever seen…and THAT is what I failed to do. I have nobody to blame for it but me. I got…lost in all the build-up, particularly when I had Cleo arrested - a decision I have come to regret. I dwelled on that mistake for quite some time; in spite of reassurance from my beloved Desiree, I still wasn’t certain that I’d made the right decision. And that lack of certainty became anxiety…and anxiety is the antithesis of victory. See, when I got anxious, I needed to prove something to myself. I needed to remind myself that I deserve my spot. I started…fixating on that, focusing on it to the detriment of everything else I’d set out to do…and that was my undoing. It will be my opponents’ undoing, as well.”
“See, tonight I’ve been booked to wrestle a four-way match against three of the fiercest up-and-comers that PWS: Apex has to offer: Miles Kasey, Violet Amelia Holt, and Kallie Reznik. Any ONE of them could be a handful on their own, but all three? The talent in that ring tonight is legendary, and I’d be a FOOL to underestimate it. I am NOT a fool. But WHAT I am is FOCUSED. For the first time in months, I remember who I am. The snake once again knows itself…so I will not hesitate to strike. Can the same be said of you three, I wonder? Milo, I will NEVER disparage your in-ring abilities; you did not get to be where you are on the merits of your familial connections. You are truly a one-of-a-kind talent between those ropes. But here’s the problem: so am I. And between the two of us, Milo, which one has been out of action longer? Who’s been away from the ring focusing on family drama, allowing his personal life and personal hang-ups to get in the way of his performances? It started with last year’s Demon’s Run, Miles; you had the Destination NEXT at your fingertips…and you ultimately failed to pull through. What have you done since then? What redemption have you found? That must weigh heavily on a soul like yours, Miles. You probably feel as though you have to prove yourself tonight…and I can tell you firsthand exactly how that will work out. Ask Cleo Phillips.”
*Devon smirks, beginning to act more like himself again.*
“Now Violet Holt, Kallie Reznik…THOSE are the real threats out there tonight. No offense intended, Miles. But Violet Amelia Holt is one of the craziest, most violent and unpredictable wrestlers on the PWS: Apex roster. That woman is a deadly weapon, inside OR outside of a wrestling ring…but that violence can only take you so far. Violence, like revolution, needs emotion as its fuel source, but both will undoubtedly fail without direction. THAT is what you’re lacking, Violet. Because I have no doubt you’re angry; after everything Jonathan Sanders did to you in the lead-up to Crusade, then being unable to take your revenge on him when the moment finally came…it must be absolutely destroying you inside. But that’s precisely the problem, Violet. Because that rage is not directed at me, or at Miles Kasey or Kallie Reznik…it’s entirely directed at Jonathan Sanders. You will NEVER topple any of us if you cannot take your thoughts away from HIM. I can use that emotionality, that lack of focus, to my advantage, because you may be VIOLENT, but I am cerebral…and I can wrestle CIRCLES around a psychopath like you.”
“Finally, we come to Kallie Reznik. Honestly? Pound for pound, I’d say you’re probably the best pure wrestler coming into this match tonight…apart from me. I know SOME of your history, Kallie, I know you cut your teeth on garbage wrestling and throwing yourself off the highest-point like a desperate spot monkey in some bloodsport league…but I know you’ve gone on to greener pastures since then. I know you, unlike Violet Holt, can actually handle yourself in a real wrestling match. Which is why I know I have to be careful. I have to watch you with some vigilance, especially considering your record in this company. But I’m not overly-concerned. I know you’ve dealt with failure recently, too; you’re another soul caught up in the destructive aura of Jonathan Sanders’ temper tantrum. And even if you can put that aside, the fact he caused you to come up short against Alexis Makarios is going to weigh on your mind just as heavily as everything Miles Kasey is dealing with. You THINK you’re a great wrestler…but now you can’t be certain, can you? I KNOW how damaging that uncertainty can be. I KNOW how much anxiety will sabotage your performance tonight…which is exactly why I KNOW that I will be victorious. Because I know who I AM now, Kallie. I am in TUNE with my true nature. I am the greatest professional wrestler of my generation, the CANADIAN! HERO! I am a snake in a ring full of mongoose…”
*Ryder pauses, his smirk becoming a grin as he glares down the camera lens.*
“And, knowing myself, I will NOT hesitate to strike.”
*With that, Ryder’s finished, turning back towards the window as “American Woman” by the Guess Who starts up to play him off.*
|
|