Clones.
Apr 28, 2016 16:55:44 GMT -5
Post by James Joseph Page. on Apr 28, 2016 16:55:44 GMT -5
Prologue: Thirty Pieces of Silver.
Friends. Who needs them? Why share accolades when I could just gain them by myself? Gold Rush Rumble, I saw two men share something that ONE accolade. And something in my head, couldn't process the idea of a TITLE being co-signed. So there's that, good for Cannon, good for Tony, two people who say how good they are at a paradox because one of them is going to kill the other. It's human nature, there's nothing you can do about it. We're savages, we'd do anything for something. Food? We'll fight for it. Money? We'd kill for it. A chance at the FGA World Heavyweight Championship? We'd stab each other in the back for that opportunity.
And Ricky Valero made no exception when he eliminated Luke Jackson. It's like I said, when you're in the presence of that belt, IT CHANGES YOU!! You get a lust for it, y'know? And Ricky would tell you, "survival of the fittest" to excuse himself of stabbing his partner in the back. But hey, he knows what he did, he knows what that means. He knows that Jackson's going to never trust him again. But hey, his chance at the belt? He was so sure. And then he was eliminated, and then...he had to look Jackson in his eye. No honor among theives, I guess.
...I hate being right.
See, Ricky, the thing about it is, this match? This match is just an excuse for me. Inches away from gaining a chance to see my championship, and it was gone. Just like that, it was gone. My one chance, my only chance at this point, TAKEN FROM ME AGAIN BY FUJIKO MINE--
...
No, I've gotta save some of that for you. We've never faced before, that's self explanatory. And to be honest, this match, I just don't care. I don't care who you are, what you are, where you have been; The things you've seen, all of it doesn't interest me. You just want to be remembered, I guess. Once people forget about you, that's it. That legacy? Doesn't matter to the masses. You fade away, become nothing, and let me tell you, the worse thing a human being can do to you is IGNORE you.
I've been ignored my entire life. I was ignored by the woman that birthed me, and growing up I was ignored even more. But you aren't like me, not one bit. You use this as a platform to boast about your many accolades. I mean hey, look at you getting high profile matches in JAPAN. Look at you coming to MY WORLD and winning the Tag Team Championships. What exactly is it that you fight for Valero...?! You aren't fighting to survive, because you're already FULL!!
You don't have the hunger! That's right I said it, you aren't HUNGRY!! People say I've lost my hunger, my drive, my DETERMINATION, but it never went away. I'm always hungry, I'm always willing to prove a point, y'know? And guys like you, you don't have to prove anything because everything's fallen in your lap already. It's funny, a friggin' laughing riot. So when I face you, know you don't gain a goddamn thing. No exposure, no parades, no nothin'. What you get is to tell the story about how you got in the ring with Jimmy Page, and y'survived.
That's a story people are proud of telling, believe me. Because if there's one thing I pride myself on, it's that I make a good impression on people. Ask Chandler Scott. Who, I am sure is at home, caring for darling Emily. I'm sure those medical bills are something to behold huh Scott? I'm sure, whatever family he has left, are gathered around and making sure Emily's being cared for. I'm sure Chandler's being a good sibling, helping Emily in her time of need. See Ricky, Chandler Scott got the impression that...I don't take "NO." for an answer.
That, and don't you ever cross me again. And I hope to God you understand that soon in our match together, because I'd hate to face an ignorant you. I'd hate to hear that you're going to fight me with EVERYTHING you have. Because Ricky everything you've got to offer for me, might not be enough. I can take a beating, established that back when I was a kid, when I use to get my pocketed ran by bullies during lunch. But that's for another time. I guess, what it all boils down to is: I can take a punch...
Can You?
Every time I reached deep inside her walls she let out this stifled gasp of air, which I didn't know was a moan or a gasp of pain. Her brownish red hair whipped to the side as she cut her eyes back at me. I grab a hold of it and pull. She winces a bit as I continue to thrust against her like a wild dog. The T.V. was on ESPN at a medium volume, just enough noise to take up the motel room so the people next door didn't hear us. Each time our flesh smacked against each other I let out a gruff grunt. At this point, I was numbed off of alcohol.
I felt like a slobbering animal mounting a mate. I didn't feel anything for this person. All it took was, "I'm your biggest" fan, beer, and I had her on her knees behind the dumpsters of the bar we met at. We decided that we should go somewhere less exposed and we made it back here. Now she's arching her back, is she close? Shit. At this point, I hadn't even climbed the top of the mountain to even see the peak. She quivered, letting out a satisfied moan. And me, I just slipped out of her, watching her crumble onto the bed. I stood up and took my condom off, then quickly throw it away.
"Mmn, goddamn." She said with a small giggle as she rolled around on the bed. I sighed through my nostrils, putting my pants back on as she rolled on her stomach and looked at me. "Was it as good for you as it was for me?" She asked in a sultry tone. My eyes search for an answer, and then I give a meek smirk and nod my head, "Mhm." I said, not knowing what to actually say to her. "Hey, here's forty bucks, go order some pizza for us okay?" I hand her the money.
She lets out a whine, rolling towards the edge of the bed to grab her panties and shirt. I grabbed a bottle of beer and my phone, then I headed into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror, and there she was...my angel. I turned around, looking into her eyes, feeling at ease. "It's not like I wanted to do it." I said to her as I turned back into the mirror, clutching my beer in my right hand. "One moment we're having drinks and the next thing I know she's on me. I guess Kentucky women find guys like me passable." I joked.
I looked in the mirror, seeing a face that was beginning to sag and turn red. My eyes were bloodshot, and I looked...sad. "You know, when I was a kid, they use to do PSA's about drinking. To scare the kids away from drinking. You didn't have to be cool to drink and all of that horseshit." I spoke, scoffing a bit as I drank some. "Me? I was around alcohol all of the time. Some of my foster parents liked to drink. Hell, kids back in 8th grade started taking up the bottle. And me, I always thought I was above it all. I always thought, that someday I would amount to something. I wouldn't be some drunk in a gutter. I'd make a difference, somehow someway." I said in a slightly slurred tone.
"I was a smart kid, got good grades, always wanted to go to Michigan University. I could've, had a high GPA...3.49 was what I read on the transcript. Didn't have the cash and I was out on my own. Then I met Lamarr, thought if I did this I would save the cash from dealing and go to community college. Do something I sorta liked. I wanted to be a writer, write books, I loved stories..." I mused at my guardian angel. What the Hell happened to me...? I look off to the side, shaking my head as my tongue rolled around the inside of my cheeks. I look at the beer, and just pour it down the drain, disgusted with myself at the moment.
"Started hanging out on the streets. Most I ever did was smoke cigarettes and drink. I took to drinking a lot. Realizing it now, I started getting more angry when I started drinking alcohol. Life went to shit, then I found wrestling, and even then my life is still shit." I said turning towards my fantasy who stood there, staring at me. "What am I gonna do...?" I ask her, knowing she wouldn't answer me back. "Why can't I just be normal...?" I ask her breaking down quietly as my blood red eyes began to pour tears down.
I sniff quickly, wiping the tears away as fast as I can. I stare at her through the mirror reflection, "Thanks for listening..." I say, sighing, feeling as if I lifted a massive weight off of my shoulders. I turned the sink on, splashed water on my face, looked up and she was gone. I take in a deep breath, then walk back outside. The groupie I met was sitting down half naked, looking at me with a small smirk. "Hey." I said as I walked back towards the bed. "Pizza'll be here in 20 minutes." She told me as she flicked through the T.V. I laid next to her, feeling maladroit. I nod my head and watch television with her, not wanting her to go. I just wanted company now, and even if we just met...I just--I didn't want to be alone tonight.
I give her a fake smirk, my hands slowly caress her shoulder and then towards her chest. She bites her lip, looking at my hand and raises her eyebrows, "You still haven't had enough...?" She asked me in an erotic manner. I shrug my shoulders looking at her, "I guess not" I reply back. She looks at me, "Oh I guess we can do it, I mean...we've got twenty minutes." She says with a giggle, climbing on top of me and slowly making her way down towards my pants. I peer up, bracing for her as I felt her around me, yet I didn't feel a thing. I just wanted time to go by. Even if this was the only way I could make her stay, I would do it. So I would sit there, and I would take what she had to offer me...I...I...
I just don't want to be alone...
It's night time in Louisville, Kentucky. Pizza boxes are scattered in the background. I started to pace a bit, dragging on a cigarette inside the motel room I was currently staying. In the middle of all of my pacing, sat a lone wooden chair. I sit down in it, looking around the room as I clasp my hands together.
No remorse for what he did. A single TWEET mentioning it, almost matter-of-factly dismissin' his dirty deed. Because hey, "Every man for himself." but see, that would mean something he you didn't act like such a coward in doing so. See me? I want you to see it coming. I want you to see it, so that you know it was me. But you Ricky, you were nothin' but a WEASEL looking to gain his accolade. Because when the opportunity presents itself you'll do anything you can to be relevant."
I shrug my shoulders.
There is no such thing as a good guy anymore. Heroes? Gone. Look around the roster and there isn't a decent human being among the lot of you. These people, the fans, they come and they want to break away from the reality that there might be some good left in the world...and then they see guys like you Ricky. Then they leave, under the impression that to get ahead in life you have to stab people in the BACK! People like you make me sick..."
I scowl quietly, putting out the cigarette on the chair underneath me.
I'm as real as it gets; I'm the genuine article, I'm an individualist! I'm a realist, I'm a cynic, I'm many things, but I'm not FAKE...like you are Valero. Because people talk high about you. All of the world, I hear about Ricky Valero and how he's the highest sought after free agent in wrestling right now. That's all I hear. So here in Louisville, Kentucky at the Broadbent Arena on the 30th of April this Saturday, I get to see what the fuss is about. And with my history of facing newcomers, it always ends the same, they end up being mediocre, and then they hit the fuckin' door. So I ask you Valero in all seriousness. What makes you any different than the rest of these clones...?"
I stare into my camera.
I stand up, and make my way to turn the camera off. And then with a flick of a switch.
..
..
END.
