The White Whale
Sept 29, 2016 16:07:00 GMT -5
Post by ChrisMadison on Sept 29, 2016 16:07:00 GMT -5
"It's been a long time coming..."
"Almost a year and eleven months to be exact."
"Anyone who knows me, that has followed my career closely, knows that my first run in Frontier Grappling Arts didn't play out as I had hoped. I know damn well that I could have brought so much more to the table than I did. A series of lackluster performances are all I left the FGA fans to remember me by; something I'm not proud of. I'm not going to make excuses for my own mediocrity; it'd just be a waste of breath to try and put a positive spin on a run that was average at best."
"My entire career has been defined by proving people wrong and earning my place in the conversation as one of the best inside that twenty by twenty ring! But how can I claim to be one of the best with a smudge on my résumé like FGA. Tommy Knox and I came to leave our mark on the tag team wrestling scene. We brought the Black Hand to FGA, but how did that pan out? A pair of singles wins over unrecognizable names, losses to Sex Sells and AshTon, a tainted victory over Jared James and Dan Herrera, and a disqualification victory over the #Sparklebuddies that prevented us from capturing the tag team championships at Capital Combat."
"Nothing that I did in my first run here was worth writing home about..."
"My failure in FGA has motivated me..."
"That may sound condescending coming from the guy who has been undefeated over the last fourteen months. I couldn't blame anyone for making such a claim. But there's no one in this world harder on me than myself. After my first stint in FGA, I took seven months off from the business. I let my body heal and I made sure to fix every single hole that I saw in my game. The result? A body of work in 4CW that instantly put me in the conversation of being the most dominant talent that ever stepped through their ropes!"
"It would have been an easy decision for m to just re-sign with 4CW and continue ruling that locker room with an iron fist. There's still plenty of talented guys in that locker room that I didn't get to lock up with. But there's a huge void in my sixteen year career; a wrong that needs to desperately be righted."
"Rick Young, you're the poor sap that has to step in and be the first to deal with me. I'm not familiar with you. We've never crossed paths. This is the first time we've worked for the same promotion. I'm sure that Michigan crowd will be boisterous, backing one of their own. But I'm in a foul mood and I've got something to prove. I will not hesitate to cut the legs out from underneath your FGA career to further myself."
"I'm going to be blasted with criticism. People will be quick to try and convince me that just because I've been successful everywhere else doesn't mean it will translate here. To them..."
"To the critics..."
"To the haters..."
"Watch me!"
"Well, after a couple months of testing the waters, the Chris Madison Mayhem tour is over with. I know you kept throwing FGA out there as an option whenever we spoke but I honestly didn't think it'd be where you decided to sign," Frankie Morrison said as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his client, Chris Madison. He brought his paper coffee cup up to his lips and took a delicate sip of the steaming hot brew. "The amount of promotions that were dying to have you become the face of their company; had to be hard to pass up on all of that."
On a typical day the Warehouse, Chris Madison's wrestling school and training facility, would be filled with eager students sharpening their tools, trying to prepare themselves for the roller coaster ride they're about to embark on. Today was different; today, it was a ghost town. Only a handful of people were inside the building. A construction crew was brought in, and they tirelessly worked as they built an elevated room in the far corner of the facility.
Chris kept quiet as he observed the crew of carpenters with a watchful eye. He dug down into one of the front pockets of his camouflage cargo shorts and pulled out a set of keys. Without warning he lobbed them over to Frankie, forcing him to make an awkward attempt to catch the keys. They bounced off of his left palm before he cradled them in his arm against his left side. "What's this for," he asked as they slid down the length of his angled arm and into the palm of his hand.
"The large key is for the front door. The other keys are going to be for your fully functional office when they finish," Chris explained without ever taking his eyes off of the workers.
Frankie looked down at the keys in disbelief. It was a token of Chris's gratitude for all of the hard work that Frankie put in, setting up those dates for his tour, and dealing with his indecisiveness. "You shut down the school for this? For me,", he questioned with his mout gaping in disbelief.
"The building itself is closed, but Nick is working them out somewhere off site. I figured this would make it easier on you since you've taken on other talent," Chris clarified as he folded his arms across his chest. "Now you don't have to constantly work from your phone or share that stuffy room with Nick," he continued as he pointed to a small room in the other corner in the rear of the building which his younger brother used as an office to handle the business end of the wrestling school.
Frankie couldn't fight back the grin on his face if he tried. He slid his finger through the key ring and spun them around before closing his hand into a fist, trapping the keys against his meaty palm. He slid the keys into the front pocket of his slacks and took another sip of his coffee. He had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around Chris and embrace with a hug. "I hope you don't mind, I invited Elena to come out next week and train a little with you. I think it'd do her some good to roll with someone the likes of you. She just won the Honor Wrestling Diamond Championship and I want her to see that it doesn't end with winning the belt; a true champion is always working to make sure the best version of themselves enters that ring," Frankie disclosed.
"I don't mind at all. It'll be good to get a closer look at the woman who's prying you away from time to time," Chris joked as he slapped Frankie on the back, between his shoulder blades. "Plus, I'll have my hands full, getting ready for Rick Young. It'll be a nice change of pace!"
"Really? You expect me to believe that? After everything you've accomplished, everyone you've defeated, over the last fourteen months, you're concerned about Rick Young," Frankie interrogated with skepticism.
"Any given night," Chris muttered.
Frankie dropped his hands down to his side as he angled his body towards his client. His eyebrows scrunched, not buying this sudden change in outlook. "You expect me to buy that any given night line? You know damn well Rick Young shouldn't be mentioned in the same breath as you. I'm surprised you're not taking this as a slap in the face," he argued in-between the sounds of incessant hammering.
"Honestly? I don't care what you choose to believe," Chris answered. "Regardless of my attitude, I've always preached on any given night. Every time I step through those ropes it could be my last. So I will prepare accordingly, no matter who my opponent is. At some point, someone amongst the FGA brass saw something in Rick Young. He wouldn't have been signed to a contract if they didn't think he brought something to the table. He had a rough debut against Evan Envi. All the more reason for him to have something to prove!"
Frankie shook his head from side to side, cackling at Chris's cookie cutter response. "Bullshit! You're Chris Madison. You're the guy who hasn't lost a match over the last fourteen months! You've beaten some of the best: Felicity Banks, Bryan Laughlin, Cyrus Riddle, Dakota Smith, Erron Wilder, Brian Hollywood, Mark Storm," he boasted, as if they were his own accomplishments. "You can't honestly expect me to stand here beside you and believe that you're holding Rick Young to the same standards of some of those guys that you've conquered! Ricky Young isn't an attraction you'd find on the main stage; he's a sideshow freak at best!"
Chris huffed through his nostrils, choosing to not respond immediately to Frankie's degrading view of Rick Young. "You know why I chose FGA," Chris quizzed without the intention of lettin him answer. "There are some pretty great companies in this business today. But to me, it's pretty evident that there are a select few with solid talent pools from top to bottom. There's no doubt in my mind that 4CW is one of the best. Anyone with a sound mind can look at that roster, put their personal feelings for Perry Wallace aside, and acknowledge just how deep they are. There's also no denying that FGA has a roster that matches up, from top to bottom. I've run through just about everyone in 4CW. My history in FGA just isn't as decorated; I want to change that! If it means I start with 'Razor' Rick Young, so be it!"
"I applaud you," Frankie muttered. "I think most people in your position would take this match as a slap in the face. Considering everything you've accomplished..."
"None of which matters at the moment," Chris interrupted. "I get a fresh start; a brand new opportunity to show the FGA faithful what I'm capable of. The people that fill that locker room may or may not be familiar with my body of work over the last fourteen months. Regardless, they will not forget the clinic I put on when I lock up with Rick Young!"
"There's the confidence I knew would return," Morrison smirked.
"Never said I wasn't confident," Chris snapped. "He has said it himself, before his match with Evan Envi, he's not the kind of guy who's going to go out there and wrestle five star classic matches. This isn't some ultra-violent brawl that's right in his wheelhouse. If Rick Young wants to resurrect his career off of my name he'll have to out wrestle me!"
The melody of power tools began to dwindle down in the background. The carpenters were done for the day, laying down all of the framework for the elevated office. "You've dealt with guys like him before," Frankie suggested as the two stepped aside, clearing a path for the workers to move back and forth, bringing their belongings back to the truck which was backed up to the rear exit door.
"The only way this match goes south is if I get inside my own head. Stylistically, he doesn't match up. Guys like him are a dime a dozen. A majority of these guys think their strongest attribute is their fists. This is professional wrestling, not some underground bare knuckle brawling fight club. Rick Young was an attraction when he broke into the business because there was still a market for that kind of wrestling. You can't get by these days without knowing how to actually wrestle,", Chris elaborated.
"He's going to have a lot to prove," Frankie warned. "You'll practically be in his backyard."
"Good, Chris exclaimed. "Gives him that much more of a reason to wrestle the best match of his entire career..."
Madison strolled along the concrete slabs that surrounded the bombed out Packard Automotive Plant in Detroit Michigan; his hands tucked into the front pocket of the black sweatshirt he wore. Along the skeletal frame of the large buildings, trash littered the ground. Walls were crumbling, panes of glass in the windows were shattered. What was once a flourishing industry has left these post apocalyptic looking structures throughout the city of Detroit. Chris stopped at the foot of the factory, staring at a wall covered in graffiti.
"I don't think there could be a more fitting place for Rick Young's attempt at resurrecting his wrestling career to come to an end..."
He pulled his hands out of his pocket and pulled back on the hood that covered his head before turning around to face the camera crew that followed him.
"The Compuware Arena, Plymouth Township; a mere thirty-five minutes from your hometown of Detroit, Michigan. The building will be filled with fans who want to see their local boy finally get the next chapter of his career going. Being that close to home should give you a leg up. SHOULD... We'll practically be wresting in your backyard Saturday night!"
"But lets be honest, 'Razor' Rick Young is a thing of the past. We both broke into this business around the same time, when there was a high demand for someone like you. Wrestling fans were rabid, expecting bloodshed every time that bell rang; an environment that you ultimately thrived in. But those days are done. Hardcore wrestling is an art form that just doesn't draw like it once did. And while this business evolved you clung to a style that had little promise!"
"You carved out your place in the business, literally and figuratively. But all good things come to an end. Unfortunately we all have expiration dates in this industry; some sooner than others. If anything was made obvious about your return to the ring, it's that you're a fish out of water. What you accomplished in the past, all of those accolades and championships, can't write your ticket for you. If you want to resurrect what once was, you're going to have to translate that will, that desire, inside that ring! You're going to have to prove that you can actually wrestle!"
"But you're not the only one in this match with something to prove."
"What I've done in 4CW has jolted new life into a career that was seemingly on life support. When I last stepped foot into a FGA ring it was made evident that I just wasn't in the right place to make a legit run in the company. My priorities were all out of sorts, I wasn't performing to the best of my abilities; I was a fucking mess! But now, more than ever, I'm putting myself before anyone else. I know that I have what it takes to succeed; I've found a way in every other promotion that I've ever competed for. So why not here?"
"For me, FGA is that white whale that I'm willing to kill myself chasing. I'm getting to be obsessed with proving that my run in 4CW wasn't just a product of the environment I was in."
"I've got something to prove, and it all starts this Saturday. Unfortunately you've been hit with the task of being my first opponent, taking the brunt of it all. For me, there's no other outcome than twisting you into a pretzel, imposing my will, finding your breaking point, and forcing you to give up. I've heard the rhetoric from guys like you before, too proud to admit that they'll tap out if the circumstances are right. Trust me, everyone has a breaking point. No matter how violent you are, no matter how resilient, you're made of the same flesh and blood as everyone else. Your bones break, ligaments and joints only bend certain ways. For me, there's no sound more gratifying than another grown man screaming in agony, hopelessly trying to weather the storm before giving up."
"So many of you guys become entranced by the mystique of being impenetrable. That's not reality. Too many people in this industry have lost sight of the purity of the sport. Rick, you're not the first demented and sadistic wrestler to find success, nor will you be the last. Every company has that one guy with a flare for the extreme that has left a lasting impression. But you know what I've noticed over the years? All of you seem to fizzle out over time. Like a flash in the pan, early success followed by years of trying to prove that it wasn't a fluke!"
"As fun as it is to fantasize, truth always rears its ugly head."
"The truth? You should have never gotten out of bed to find a new job. You should have invested better, setting yourself up for the rest of your life. Instead, you threw away every cent and have been left no other options. Time to knuckle up and throw down, you've got a family relying on you. Children and a wife who've been sucked into this abysmal lifestyle that you chose. If that's not enough motivation for you to make something of yourself then you're truly a lost cause..."
"Rick 'The Lost Cause' Young..."
"Has a bit of a ring to it."
"I hope you're wise enough to leave your family at home. Spare them the heartache and anguish. Don't allow them to make the twenty-seven mile trip to the arena just to watch their beloved hero have his career ripped away from him. I don't want your wife, your children, to have to witness that kind of embarrassment, reassuring every doubt they had about you taking another stab at this demanding career."
"Evan Eniv started the process when he caught you with that inside cradle. A hand full of tights for added leverage made sure that you weren't going to keep on fighting. Ryan LeCavalier had you seeing double with strikes so hard that the first few rows could hear your bones rattling. Me, I'm going to have a more decisive victory. By the time we're through you'll be too overwhelmed to even have a clue as to what hit you."
"You've been cheated..."
"You've been beaten..."
"I'm going to break you and put an end to this charade."
Madison tucks his chin down towards his chest, breaking eye contact with the camera as the video feed cuts to black.
"Almost a year and eleven months to be exact."
"Anyone who knows me, that has followed my career closely, knows that my first run in Frontier Grappling Arts didn't play out as I had hoped. I know damn well that I could have brought so much more to the table than I did. A series of lackluster performances are all I left the FGA fans to remember me by; something I'm not proud of. I'm not going to make excuses for my own mediocrity; it'd just be a waste of breath to try and put a positive spin on a run that was average at best."
"My entire career has been defined by proving people wrong and earning my place in the conversation as one of the best inside that twenty by twenty ring! But how can I claim to be one of the best with a smudge on my résumé like FGA. Tommy Knox and I came to leave our mark on the tag team wrestling scene. We brought the Black Hand to FGA, but how did that pan out? A pair of singles wins over unrecognizable names, losses to Sex Sells and AshTon, a tainted victory over Jared James and Dan Herrera, and a disqualification victory over the #Sparklebuddies that prevented us from capturing the tag team championships at Capital Combat."
"Nothing that I did in my first run here was worth writing home about..."
"My failure in FGA has motivated me..."
"That may sound condescending coming from the guy who has been undefeated over the last fourteen months. I couldn't blame anyone for making such a claim. But there's no one in this world harder on me than myself. After my first stint in FGA, I took seven months off from the business. I let my body heal and I made sure to fix every single hole that I saw in my game. The result? A body of work in 4CW that instantly put me in the conversation of being the most dominant talent that ever stepped through their ropes!"
"It would have been an easy decision for m to just re-sign with 4CW and continue ruling that locker room with an iron fist. There's still plenty of talented guys in that locker room that I didn't get to lock up with. But there's a huge void in my sixteen year career; a wrong that needs to desperately be righted."
"Rick Young, you're the poor sap that has to step in and be the first to deal with me. I'm not familiar with you. We've never crossed paths. This is the first time we've worked for the same promotion. I'm sure that Michigan crowd will be boisterous, backing one of their own. But I'm in a foul mood and I've got something to prove. I will not hesitate to cut the legs out from underneath your FGA career to further myself."
"I'm going to be blasted with criticism. People will be quick to try and convince me that just because I've been successful everywhere else doesn't mean it will translate here. To them..."
"To the critics..."
"To the haters..."
"Watch me!"
_______________________________________________________________
September 22nd, 2016
Long Island, New York
Long Island, New York
"Well, after a couple months of testing the waters, the Chris Madison Mayhem tour is over with. I know you kept throwing FGA out there as an option whenever we spoke but I honestly didn't think it'd be where you decided to sign," Frankie Morrison said as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his client, Chris Madison. He brought his paper coffee cup up to his lips and took a delicate sip of the steaming hot brew. "The amount of promotions that were dying to have you become the face of their company; had to be hard to pass up on all of that."
On a typical day the Warehouse, Chris Madison's wrestling school and training facility, would be filled with eager students sharpening their tools, trying to prepare themselves for the roller coaster ride they're about to embark on. Today was different; today, it was a ghost town. Only a handful of people were inside the building. A construction crew was brought in, and they tirelessly worked as they built an elevated room in the far corner of the facility.
Chris kept quiet as he observed the crew of carpenters with a watchful eye. He dug down into one of the front pockets of his camouflage cargo shorts and pulled out a set of keys. Without warning he lobbed them over to Frankie, forcing him to make an awkward attempt to catch the keys. They bounced off of his left palm before he cradled them in his arm against his left side. "What's this for," he asked as they slid down the length of his angled arm and into the palm of his hand.
"The large key is for the front door. The other keys are going to be for your fully functional office when they finish," Chris explained without ever taking his eyes off of the workers.
Frankie looked down at the keys in disbelief. It was a token of Chris's gratitude for all of the hard work that Frankie put in, setting up those dates for his tour, and dealing with his indecisiveness. "You shut down the school for this? For me,", he questioned with his mout gaping in disbelief.
"The building itself is closed, but Nick is working them out somewhere off site. I figured this would make it easier on you since you've taken on other talent," Chris clarified as he folded his arms across his chest. "Now you don't have to constantly work from your phone or share that stuffy room with Nick," he continued as he pointed to a small room in the other corner in the rear of the building which his younger brother used as an office to handle the business end of the wrestling school.
Frankie couldn't fight back the grin on his face if he tried. He slid his finger through the key ring and spun them around before closing his hand into a fist, trapping the keys against his meaty palm. He slid the keys into the front pocket of his slacks and took another sip of his coffee. He had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around Chris and embrace with a hug. "I hope you don't mind, I invited Elena to come out next week and train a little with you. I think it'd do her some good to roll with someone the likes of you. She just won the Honor Wrestling Diamond Championship and I want her to see that it doesn't end with winning the belt; a true champion is always working to make sure the best version of themselves enters that ring," Frankie disclosed.
"I don't mind at all. It'll be good to get a closer look at the woman who's prying you away from time to time," Chris joked as he slapped Frankie on the back, between his shoulder blades. "Plus, I'll have my hands full, getting ready for Rick Young. It'll be a nice change of pace!"
"Really? You expect me to believe that? After everything you've accomplished, everyone you've defeated, over the last fourteen months, you're concerned about Rick Young," Frankie interrogated with skepticism.
"Any given night," Chris muttered.
Frankie dropped his hands down to his side as he angled his body towards his client. His eyebrows scrunched, not buying this sudden change in outlook. "You expect me to buy that any given night line? You know damn well Rick Young shouldn't be mentioned in the same breath as you. I'm surprised you're not taking this as a slap in the face," he argued in-between the sounds of incessant hammering.
"Honestly? I don't care what you choose to believe," Chris answered. "Regardless of my attitude, I've always preached on any given night. Every time I step through those ropes it could be my last. So I will prepare accordingly, no matter who my opponent is. At some point, someone amongst the FGA brass saw something in Rick Young. He wouldn't have been signed to a contract if they didn't think he brought something to the table. He had a rough debut against Evan Envi. All the more reason for him to have something to prove!"
Frankie shook his head from side to side, cackling at Chris's cookie cutter response. "Bullshit! You're Chris Madison. You're the guy who hasn't lost a match over the last fourteen months! You've beaten some of the best: Felicity Banks, Bryan Laughlin, Cyrus Riddle, Dakota Smith, Erron Wilder, Brian Hollywood, Mark Storm," he boasted, as if they were his own accomplishments. "You can't honestly expect me to stand here beside you and believe that you're holding Rick Young to the same standards of some of those guys that you've conquered! Ricky Young isn't an attraction you'd find on the main stage; he's a sideshow freak at best!"
Chris huffed through his nostrils, choosing to not respond immediately to Frankie's degrading view of Rick Young. "You know why I chose FGA," Chris quizzed without the intention of lettin him answer. "There are some pretty great companies in this business today. But to me, it's pretty evident that there are a select few with solid talent pools from top to bottom. There's no doubt in my mind that 4CW is one of the best. Anyone with a sound mind can look at that roster, put their personal feelings for Perry Wallace aside, and acknowledge just how deep they are. There's also no denying that FGA has a roster that matches up, from top to bottom. I've run through just about everyone in 4CW. My history in FGA just isn't as decorated; I want to change that! If it means I start with 'Razor' Rick Young, so be it!"
"I applaud you," Frankie muttered. "I think most people in your position would take this match as a slap in the face. Considering everything you've accomplished..."
"None of which matters at the moment," Chris interrupted. "I get a fresh start; a brand new opportunity to show the FGA faithful what I'm capable of. The people that fill that locker room may or may not be familiar with my body of work over the last fourteen months. Regardless, they will not forget the clinic I put on when I lock up with Rick Young!"
"There's the confidence I knew would return," Morrison smirked.
"Never said I wasn't confident," Chris snapped. "He has said it himself, before his match with Evan Envi, he's not the kind of guy who's going to go out there and wrestle five star classic matches. This isn't some ultra-violent brawl that's right in his wheelhouse. If Rick Young wants to resurrect his career off of my name he'll have to out wrestle me!"
The melody of power tools began to dwindle down in the background. The carpenters were done for the day, laying down all of the framework for the elevated office. "You've dealt with guys like him before," Frankie suggested as the two stepped aside, clearing a path for the workers to move back and forth, bringing their belongings back to the truck which was backed up to the rear exit door.
"The only way this match goes south is if I get inside my own head. Stylistically, he doesn't match up. Guys like him are a dime a dozen. A majority of these guys think their strongest attribute is their fists. This is professional wrestling, not some underground bare knuckle brawling fight club. Rick Young was an attraction when he broke into the business because there was still a market for that kind of wrestling. You can't get by these days without knowing how to actually wrestle,", Chris elaborated.
"He's going to have a lot to prove," Frankie warned. "You'll practically be in his backyard."
"Good, Chris exclaimed. "Gives him that much more of a reason to wrestle the best match of his entire career..."
_______________________________________________________________
FGA Video Diary: Series 2 - Volume #1
September 28th, 2016
Detroit, Michigan
September 28th, 2016
Detroit, Michigan
[•REC]
Madison strolled along the concrete slabs that surrounded the bombed out Packard Automotive Plant in Detroit Michigan; his hands tucked into the front pocket of the black sweatshirt he wore. Along the skeletal frame of the large buildings, trash littered the ground. Walls were crumbling, panes of glass in the windows were shattered. What was once a flourishing industry has left these post apocalyptic looking structures throughout the city of Detroit. Chris stopped at the foot of the factory, staring at a wall covered in graffiti.
"I don't think there could be a more fitting place for Rick Young's attempt at resurrecting his wrestling career to come to an end..."
He pulled his hands out of his pocket and pulled back on the hood that covered his head before turning around to face the camera crew that followed him.
"The Compuware Arena, Plymouth Township; a mere thirty-five minutes from your hometown of Detroit, Michigan. The building will be filled with fans who want to see their local boy finally get the next chapter of his career going. Being that close to home should give you a leg up. SHOULD... We'll practically be wresting in your backyard Saturday night!"
"But lets be honest, 'Razor' Rick Young is a thing of the past. We both broke into this business around the same time, when there was a high demand for someone like you. Wrestling fans were rabid, expecting bloodshed every time that bell rang; an environment that you ultimately thrived in. But those days are done. Hardcore wrestling is an art form that just doesn't draw like it once did. And while this business evolved you clung to a style that had little promise!"
"You carved out your place in the business, literally and figuratively. But all good things come to an end. Unfortunately we all have expiration dates in this industry; some sooner than others. If anything was made obvious about your return to the ring, it's that you're a fish out of water. What you accomplished in the past, all of those accolades and championships, can't write your ticket for you. If you want to resurrect what once was, you're going to have to translate that will, that desire, inside that ring! You're going to have to prove that you can actually wrestle!"
"But you're not the only one in this match with something to prove."
"What I've done in 4CW has jolted new life into a career that was seemingly on life support. When I last stepped foot into a FGA ring it was made evident that I just wasn't in the right place to make a legit run in the company. My priorities were all out of sorts, I wasn't performing to the best of my abilities; I was a fucking mess! But now, more than ever, I'm putting myself before anyone else. I know that I have what it takes to succeed; I've found a way in every other promotion that I've ever competed for. So why not here?"
"For me, FGA is that white whale that I'm willing to kill myself chasing. I'm getting to be obsessed with proving that my run in 4CW wasn't just a product of the environment I was in."
"I've got something to prove, and it all starts this Saturday. Unfortunately you've been hit with the task of being my first opponent, taking the brunt of it all. For me, there's no other outcome than twisting you into a pretzel, imposing my will, finding your breaking point, and forcing you to give up. I've heard the rhetoric from guys like you before, too proud to admit that they'll tap out if the circumstances are right. Trust me, everyone has a breaking point. No matter how violent you are, no matter how resilient, you're made of the same flesh and blood as everyone else. Your bones break, ligaments and joints only bend certain ways. For me, there's no sound more gratifying than another grown man screaming in agony, hopelessly trying to weather the storm before giving up."
"So many of you guys become entranced by the mystique of being impenetrable. That's not reality. Too many people in this industry have lost sight of the purity of the sport. Rick, you're not the first demented and sadistic wrestler to find success, nor will you be the last. Every company has that one guy with a flare for the extreme that has left a lasting impression. But you know what I've noticed over the years? All of you seem to fizzle out over time. Like a flash in the pan, early success followed by years of trying to prove that it wasn't a fluke!"
"As fun as it is to fantasize, truth always rears its ugly head."
"The truth? You should have never gotten out of bed to find a new job. You should have invested better, setting yourself up for the rest of your life. Instead, you threw away every cent and have been left no other options. Time to knuckle up and throw down, you've got a family relying on you. Children and a wife who've been sucked into this abysmal lifestyle that you chose. If that's not enough motivation for you to make something of yourself then you're truly a lost cause..."
"Rick 'The Lost Cause' Young..."
"Has a bit of a ring to it."
"I hope you're wise enough to leave your family at home. Spare them the heartache and anguish. Don't allow them to make the twenty-seven mile trip to the arena just to watch their beloved hero have his career ripped away from him. I don't want your wife, your children, to have to witness that kind of embarrassment, reassuring every doubt they had about you taking another stab at this demanding career."
"Evan Eniv started the process when he caught you with that inside cradle. A hand full of tights for added leverage made sure that you weren't going to keep on fighting. Ryan LeCavalier had you seeing double with strikes so hard that the first few rows could hear your bones rattling. Me, I'm going to have a more decisive victory. By the time we're through you'll be too overwhelmed to even have a clue as to what hit you."
"You've been cheated..."
"You've been beaten..."
"I'm going to break you and put an end to this charade."
Madison tucks his chin down towards his chest, breaking eye contact with the camera as the video feed cuts to black.
