.krowmaeT
Mar 7, 2016 20:59:23 GMT -5
Post by The Mason on Mar 7, 2016 20:59:23 GMT -5
03.05.16
”So. Like. Okay.
Weeks have passed and… I’ve thought a lot and whatever and… on one hand, it’s hard not to feel confident, knowing I’m teaming up with Becky, going into this Tag Team Title tourney, startin’ it off with two dudes that haven’t even stood on the same apron together before; Malo and Gonzales. Knowing who we are, what we do, and what we’re capable of, I’d be underselling the fuck out of everything we’ve accomplished in however-many-months since we inked these deals.
We’re a team, even when the bell isn’t ringing anymore. We didn’t get, like, thrown together because we saved the other one from a beatdown… we got here because this is where we chose to be, and yeah-- I feel really confident, carrying all that in the back of my head.
But on the other side of it, El Grandé Malo’s proven himself as a strong, reliable competitor. He’s got the popularity and he’s got the skill, but at the risk of harkin’ back to le obvious, he and the new kid aren’t a team. They’re not really much of anything, you know... They haven’t had the time to learn anything about #BruteCamp and beyond that, they haven’t had the time to learn shit about each other.
Does it mean they’re not dangerous? Nah… that would be stupid. Beck and I know that just turning your head the wrong way in the ring can mean the end of the match, or something worse-- so we know they’re still dangerous. There’s no doubt about that. But that’s a technicality. They’re two dudes, dangerous just because people are dangerous… we’re a team, and we’re dangerous because we’ve learned how to be. Together.
...Darby and Butcher needed to be stopped back in the Serengeti, and you guys did that. You get kudos for that. But it doesn’t mean it’ll stop us-- not when so much is riding on this first match. You’re not gonna pin me, you’re not gonna submit Becky, and you’re not gonna get us to take ourselves out of the running. We’re not gonna get counted out and we’re not gonna get carried away because in the Brute Camp, we do this shit for sport, on our gamesmen shit, in the truest form. We’ve always been enough, just us on our own.
That’s enough.
We didn’t have much to fight for before now though. Not much other than pride. I thought we were dangerous then, y’know, but Malo… Gonzales… shit, guys, now we’ve actually got something to look forward to. Now it’s about the hardware for the first time. Not the last though.
Now things get brutal.”
03.06.16
“Hey, uh… Beck?”
Mason Mannion cleared his throat softly-- barely audibly. He nervously rubbed hs hans together and finally raised his eyes, looking ahead, eyes locked to the wall. He clenched his jaw. He squared his shoulders. He cleared his throat again-- louder. More manly and assertive this time.
“Beck, I know this seems a little weird. I know the timing is off. But I think this is as good a time as any to talk to you about this, you know? And it’s not like everybody doesn’t see it already. It’s obvious. And it’s not…” He sighed. “It’s not something I think I’m really willing to keep hidden, nahmean?”
Mason rubbed at his eyes, taking another deep breath.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is… we really need to…” He frowned. “...we really need to think about modifying our team name. We sound like an underage pornographic dance troupe.”
“Ewwww, what kind of porn are you watching?” she quickly pushed up to a seated position, turning to look at him in feign disgust.
Mason narrowed his eyes. “I only wa…” He closed his eyes and started over. “Just something to think about for the future, right? Let’s not tell Rex about it.”
The two sat on the ground inside the home theater. Mason clearly had something else on his mind, evident by the light glimmer in his eyes as he looked up at Becky, but shook his head a little.
“Either way, we’re ready. We’ve got no choice. Right?”
“Right! Let’s do this!” She winked at him before turning back to the screen.
Mason took a deep breath. Swallowed. And nodded, smiling faintly.
"Right."
”So. Like. Okay.
Weeks have passed and… I’ve thought a lot and whatever and… on one hand, it’s hard not to feel confident, knowing I’m teaming up with Becky, going into this Tag Team Title tourney, startin’ it off with two dudes that haven’t even stood on the same apron together before; Malo and Gonzales. Knowing who we are, what we do, and what we’re capable of, I’d be underselling the fuck out of everything we’ve accomplished in however-many-months since we inked these deals.
We’re a team, even when the bell isn’t ringing anymore. We didn’t get, like, thrown together because we saved the other one from a beatdown… we got here because this is where we chose to be, and yeah-- I feel really confident, carrying all that in the back of my head.
But on the other side of it, El Grandé Malo’s proven himself as a strong, reliable competitor. He’s got the popularity and he’s got the skill, but at the risk of harkin’ back to le obvious, he and the new kid aren’t a team. They’re not really much of anything, you know... They haven’t had the time to learn anything about #BruteCamp and beyond that, they haven’t had the time to learn shit about each other.
Does it mean they’re not dangerous? Nah… that would be stupid. Beck and I know that just turning your head the wrong way in the ring can mean the end of the match, or something worse-- so we know they’re still dangerous. There’s no doubt about that. But that’s a technicality. They’re two dudes, dangerous just because people are dangerous… we’re a team, and we’re dangerous because we’ve learned how to be. Together.
...Darby and Butcher needed to be stopped back in the Serengeti, and you guys did that. You get kudos for that. But it doesn’t mean it’ll stop us-- not when so much is riding on this first match. You’re not gonna pin me, you’re not gonna submit Becky, and you’re not gonna get us to take ourselves out of the running. We’re not gonna get counted out and we’re not gonna get carried away because in the Brute Camp, we do this shit for sport, on our gamesmen shit, in the truest form. We’ve always been enough, just us on our own.
That’s enough.
We didn’t have much to fight for before now though. Not much other than pride. I thought we were dangerous then, y’know, but Malo… Gonzales… shit, guys, now we’ve actually got something to look forward to. Now it’s about the hardware for the first time. Not the last though.
Now things get brutal.”
03.06.16
“Hey, uh… Beck?”
Mason Mannion cleared his throat softly-- barely audibly. He nervously rubbed hs hans together and finally raised his eyes, looking ahead, eyes locked to the wall. He clenched his jaw. He squared his shoulders. He cleared his throat again-- louder. More manly and assertive this time.
“Beck, I know this seems a little weird. I know the timing is off. But I think this is as good a time as any to talk to you about this, you know? And it’s not like everybody doesn’t see it already. It’s obvious. And it’s not…” He sighed. “It’s not something I think I’m really willing to keep hidden, nahmean?”
Mason rubbed at his eyes, taking another deep breath.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is… we really need to…” He frowned. “...we really need to think about modifying our team name. We sound like an underage pornographic dance troupe.”
“Ewwww, what kind of porn are you watching?” she quickly pushed up to a seated position, turning to look at him in feign disgust.
Mason narrowed his eyes. “I only wa…” He closed his eyes and started over. “Just something to think about for the future, right? Let’s not tell Rex about it.”
The two sat on the ground inside the home theater. Mason clearly had something else on his mind, evident by the light glimmer in his eyes as he looked up at Becky, but shook his head a little.
“Either way, we’re ready. We’ve got no choice. Right?”
“Right! Let’s do this!” She winked at him before turning back to the screen.
Mason took a deep breath. Swallowed. And nodded, smiling faintly.
"Right."