Terrified
Oct 13, 2016 19:53:21 GMT -5
Post by The Mason on Oct 13, 2016 19:53:21 GMT -5
October 12, 2016
HENDERSON, NV
“You see how she flaunts it, Sadie? Like she’s so cool. You see how she boasts every chance she gets about being the Pride Champion? It’s like she doesn’t feel guilty at all for killing Fuji’s mom!”
Evan Envi sat across from me, eyes scrolling down post after post on his Twitter timeline, phone held firmly in front of his face which grew redder and redder by the second.
Now, I’d learned to filter through Evan Harrison’s tirades. Parts like that usually fell upon deaf ears. I risked shooting him a glance over the-- thus far-- peaceful breakfast. At long last, Evan had filled his house with furniture, just a month after burning it all while ”searching for himself.” Now gone were the days of standing at the kitchen table while I ate cereal. Farewell to the countless nights of sleeping on an air mattress in the middle of a near-empty room.
But I digress.
Evan caught my eye, even if only for that brief second. He frowned, waiting impatiently for his response.
“You’re not a fan of hers, are you?” he asked in an uncharacteristically quiet tone.
“I dunno,” I muttered, allowing the spoon to drop from my fingers, back down into the bowl. “Guess we’ll decide based on how bad she beats your ass this weekend.”
“See! Stuff like that ain’t funny! Stop putting your negative vibes out there.” Evan pushed himself up from the table, walking his own dishes over to the sink as he continued. “You gonna be in Minnesota to watch it all go down?”
I hesitated with the answer. Envi had started spending his time with what I’d like to refer to as the undesirables. People like Neon. People like Courtney Leinart-- the worst kind of ring rat. The thought turned my stomach. Meeting his eyes again after what was probably an eternity, I carefully constructed my reply.
“Probably not, no.”
Nailed it.
“Suit yourself. You’ll wanna see the look on Maleficent’s face up-close when she gets Kapowski Kicked and I make her look DUMB.”
I nodded toward the living room. “We have DVR. It’s fine.”
Evan stomped a foot in frustration, because there’s no better way to define both maturity and manhood in one single instance. “WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I DON’T HAVE FULL SUPPORT IN MY WAR AGAINST REID?!”
“I dunno,” I muttered, knowing full well that I knew. “You need an army to go to war. And maybe no one else wants a war on Reid.” I shrugged. “I think, in a little way, everyone likes Reid. Or at least at one point they might’ve liked Reid.” Again, I shrugged, because. “The kids all like Reid.”
”Shut up, Sadie.”
I raised my hands defensively, pushing myself away from the table as well. Because I, for one, do not need to be slapped in the face for my suggestions.
“I’ll be there in spirit, Ev,” I said obligatorily. “I’ll be watching. I’ll be a call or a FaceTime away or whatever if you end up finding God in Minnesota or something and wanna talk about it.”
“You know who does support me?” Evan went on, ignoring my previous comment. “My friggin’ Dad supports me.”
“No… that’s absolutely not true.”
“Yes it is. And he’s coming tomorrow so we can play golf! He knows where my head needs to be at to get through something like this!”
“Ev--”
“He knows exactly what I need to do to BEAT someone like Molly Reid. He was a U.S. National somethingweight Golden Gloves boxing friggin’ champion!”
Whatever I said at this point would’ve been a waste of my own energy. Evan was looking off into the distance, caught in his own hype. I had no choice but to look with him. Easier.
“There’s a championship in my future too, Sadie. Except I’m not gonna have to punch faces to get there.” He turned back toward me, sharply. ”Imma have to punch throats.”
October 13, 2016
HENDERSON, NV
“So you were fuckin’ this girl before all this, right?”
Evan’s father squared his shoulders, club in hand, sizing up the off-white golf ball that sat ominously on the tee. A cigar was hanging out of his mouth and Evan was standing downwind of the dude, taking in all that tobacco smoke like a fucking champion. He coughed loudly before responding.
“Who? Molly?”
“The broad you’re fighting.”
“Oh. Uh.” Evan looked at me. “Yeah. All the time. That’s why she hates me so bad, y’know? She basically misses my--”
“You know what I always taught you,” Mr. Harrison said out of the corner of his mouth, eyes narrowing on the golf ball. “Bitch gets too mouthy, don’t be afraid to assert yourself. Don’t listen to those bullshit commercials on the radio. You can take the back of your hand to a bitch when it’s necessary.” Mr. Harrison stood upright and turned, blowing a cloud of smoke in Evan’s face. “Why’d she turn on you anyway? Huh? What was she, a gold-digger?”
“Oh. Uhhhhh…” Evan glanced at me for help but I just stared back, because fuck his dad. He continued without my assistance, turning back to his dad with a shrug. “No. Just really ungrateful.”
“Ugh.”
“And really violent, Dad!”
“UGH.” Mr. Harrison finally swung, sending the ball flying into the distance, clear over the lake on the course and into the green on the other side. He turned his head toward Evan, sharply. “She put her hands on you!?”
“All over me!”
“And you took it like the pussified little bitch your mother raised.”
“I… sssss… hrrmmm…”
Mr. Harrison tossed his club aside and turned to Evan, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you take that bullshit. I know how fragile you are. I know your ego can’t take it.”
“Well--”
“It ain’t your fault.” Mr. Harrison sighed. “It was your mother. She fucked you up. Bless her.”
Evan blinked hard and finally narrowed his eyes at his dad. “I’m gonna make this right, Dad. I’m not gonna let Molly Reid take a crap on our family name.”
“GODDAMN RIGHT YOU WON’T.” Mr. Harrison made the strides over to his club and bent down, picking it back up, using it to point at his son. “There’s no shame in gettin’ upstaged by a woman. But there is no excuse to get your bell rung by a goddamned ring rat. I didn’t go to war for this. Your mother didn’t prosecute Todd Bridges to see you end up like this!”
“You’re right, Dad.”
Evan calmly pushed the end of the club away and gave his father a calm, yet stern nod.
“I’m not gonna let her get one over on the Harrisons. Imma beat her like she stole somethin’ dad. Somethin’ really expensive.”
“Show no fuckin' mercy,” Mr. Harrison said, darkly, turning to lock eyes with his son once more. “It’s over when she can’t run her mouth.”
With that, he turned his back on Evan, making his way over toward where the ball had landed. As if mesmerized, Evan followed after him, dragging his feet against the grass, staying just a pace behind his dad. I stayed back, watching in amusement. In awe. But if nothing else, I hoped Evan was able to do for himself what he claimed he did for Molly. As I finally took those first steps and followed behind the Harrisons, I could only hope in my head that Evan was willing to push himself to the next level.
October 14, 2016
HENDERSON, NV
”Terrified.
Terrified-- that’s the word you decided to use.
After what we’ve been through and what we’ve discussed, you think that was what was driving me… fear. And I wanna scoff at that, but like-- I get it, maybe. Perhaps I sent some mixed signals when I rushed you backstage before the Five Way Fray, y’now? I mean… OKAYYYY, maybe I was being a little bit facetious when I said I was just trying to push you to that next level-- just trying to get you there. That might not have been the FULL truth. So that's my bad.
A large part of the reason I did what I did, Molly… is because I don’t like you. I can only keep dressing facts like that up for so long, y'know?
And it’s easy to forget that I did. I DID like you. I was a huge Molly Reid fan. Don’t let that be forgotten. Even when you came to us in SCW only a disappointing shell of the Reid we saw in Insurgency, I still supported you. I still clamored to give you opportunity after opportunity with whatever power I had. I still wanted people like you, people like Dexter Jacobs, people like Dom Harter-- ingrates, all of you-- to be the faces of that company. And even when I didn’t have that power anymore and you had waddled your way back here to FGA after a hiatus, I still cheered you from a distance. We weren’t ever close or anything, but I never lost faith in you as a competitor. And most people can’t say that. You can’t even say that.
So I came here. And some say I got a little carried away. I got a little too invested in the situation, AND WHATEVER, MAYBE I DID, SCREW ME FOR BEING PASSIONATE, RIGHT… but I wanted to help you. For what was like, what, three freaking years you hadn’t done anything to make ANYONE turn their heads. Nothing. And no, it wasn’t my business, and yeah, it WAS selfish as heck in a way, but I just wanted to be a part of rebuilding what COULD have been the legacy of Molly Reid. You were dead in the water before I got here. And I wanted to be a part of changing it. I wanted to be in the driver's seat while we journeyed to a new Molly.
And I was.
I did light that fire. I did get you there. Even when you didn’t appreciate me, I still added to your legacy when I could’ve just let it lay stagnant and rot. Heh. I probably saved you! I mean-- I mean did you SEE the look in your eyes before the Fray, man? Peep those replays. You were a Molly possessed! And y’know I could’ve done a lot worse to you backstage. You didn’t have to walk out from behind the curtain that night. It could’ve been horrific and instead of this sudden rejuvenation, you could be crawling your way to the shelf but you are NOT. If I was terrified, Molly, I would’ve just eliminated you from the Pride Title picture altogether. But that’s the coward’s way out!
And Evan Envi is not a coward.
When it came down to it, you did what you had to in the Five Way. You hit me as hard as you possibly could and you hit me in a way you weren’t hitting Savannah and Storm and the others. I saw that. You weren’t hitting me with the intent to end the friggin’ match. You were trying to HURT me. You wanted to take me out of contention. I could sit here and say you couldn’t have beat me but I don’t know what was running through your head when you saw me… I just know I saw rage. And I was like a proud father! Watching you ball up those fists, screamin’ like a banshee, I knew I’d struck a nerve that no one else in FGA had been able to, man!
And listen to you now. Listen to the swagger. You think you could take on the world if you needed to, don’t you?
That kind of attitude goes a long way. It drives people. It turns ordinary, average, mediocre athletes into household names and champions. And I deserve the credit for GETTING YOU TO THAT LEVEL. The reason that I DESERVE a one-on-one shot with the brand new Pride Champion before anybody else is because I pushed you to it. No one else was gonna make you dig, Molly-- Fuji sure as heck wasn’t gonna-- and no one else is gonna test you harder than I am at Retribution.
But back to how all this started: Above & Beyond wasn’t my fault and I think this fact is CRIMINALLY UNDERSTATED. So let’s make it clear right now, once and for all.
Me having your back wasn’t the reason you couldn’t beat Johnny Karma in the Frontier Lion’s Cup. You lost because you couldn’t focus. You lost because it wasn’t important enough to you. I was there, but I didn’t seal your fate. Heck, it’s not like I was there to support Karma of all people. He ain’t my boy. He’s nothing on my end. And if you want an apology, then I’m SORRRRYYYY for my part in that, but when you lose again on Saturday, there’s not some shadowy figure at ringside that you can lay the blame on. When I become the number one contender for the Pride Title, that’s on you. And I’m sure you’ll focus this time. I’m positive it’s important enough to you this time.
But I have paved this path for myself DIRECTLY to the Pride Championship and I’m not letting you cut me off now. It looks nice on your shoulder, Molly, but it deserves somebody that can take it to the top. It needs that. And me, HELPFUL ME-- I’m willing to take it there. I’m willing to fight the battle Fuji wasn’t strong enough to fight, and defend the Pride Championship over and over and over and over and over and if beating you twice is what I have to do to get there, then fine. Shame on anyone that doubts I’ll do just that!
I understand the kind of a threat you are though. I like to have some fun on Twitter like everybody else but I know what you are, man. You are one of the quickest, craftiest strikers I’ve ever watched or competed against. You’re sharper than I like to pretend you are in front of people. You are a good wrestler. I mean, at first you were kind of like every other hardcore, garbage, pseudo-psycho wrestler that seems to pop up every few months and you DEFINITELY WERE THAT, but you evolved, dude. You’re more than some fists and elbows and feet, haha… and I watched the evolution, Molly! I can SAY that I watched you become who you are today! Here, right now in October 2016, you ARE a good wrestler. You’re a good fighter. And nothing I say is gonna take that from you. One of the most devastating moves in FGA is the Molly Kick and I’m completely aware of that. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. And I’ve seen enough of the results to know that if I take that kick, I might not be able to make a three count and the Pride Championship will have to wait indefinitely to realize its true potential!
The Molly Kick would be catastrophic. For me. For the legacy of the Pride Championship. And for the entire future of Frontier Grappling Arts.
…
FORTUNATELY FOR US, HOWEVER, EXPERTS HAVE CONCLUDED THAT I AM UN-MOLLY-KICKABLE.
I spent a lot of my adolescence dodging things that have been hurled at me and YOUR FEET are no different! Baaaasically, Maulz, I’ve been training my whole dang life for this. I was born to NOT be kicked in the head by you. My noggin is protecting one of the most important instruments in the modern world, my brain obviously, and I won’t have you defiling it with reckless striking. I can’t. Something like that would set the Pride Championship back about twenty years and my main responsibility is to make sure that the state of Minnesota is not forced to witness the Molly Kick. For fudge sake, there are gonna be kids watching.
THE KAPOWSKI KICK on the other hand is gonna be in full-effect, Reid! There’s not a single thing you can do to stop it! There’s no evasion! There is no running-- NO HIDING, AS YOU LIKE TO SAY! Once I feel it in my loins, that’s it, bruh, THAT IS IT. Kapowski Kick, WHAM. And the end comes soon after. It’s like clockwork. It’s like a sure... thing.
Then of course from there, there are endless ways to finish you off. I could choke you out, I could knock you out, or I could do the same thing to you that I did to Nero last week and pin you, real quick-like, amateur-style, making sure you’re wide awake, cognizant throughout the whole thing. Making sure you’re still sitting there on your knees, watching in shock while you HAVE TO SEE the ref raising my hand. While you have to watch while I turn my back on you. It’ll mean more for you than it did to Nero though, amirite?
After that it’s just a matter of time.
And if you know anything about Evan Envi, Molly, you KNOWWW I’m a realist. So I have to take into consideration that fraction of a one-percent-chance that I could be wrong, and I could fall victim to the Molly Kick the same way Noelle did. The same way Fujiko did in the first fall. But I will not be deterred by a fraction of a percentage, Molly. Just like I’m driven by swagger, by confidence, I am driven by the odds and the odds are… you’re gonna bring that leg up, you’re gonna aim down your sights at the Chief, and from there one of two things will undoubtedly happen.
Either you’ll come up short, and you’ll be hit with the Blues too quick to understand what happened… or I’ll snatch your leg right out of the air and I’ll rip it, and I’ll tear it, and I’ll break it apart until you submit and you concede defeat out of your own friggin’ mouth. YOU will be solely responsible for granting me the Pride Championship match I deserve.
You.
And there’s nobody else to blame.
So. When we come out at the beginning of the night and we get our introductions and the ref signals for the bell and all that, I want you to look across from me with that stupid little look you like to make, and I want you to focus on my eyes from across the ring. And I want you to remember how ‘terrified’ I am.
When we take those first steps toward each other at the beginning of the match and we make contact for the first time, I want you to focus on my eyes, just for a sec, and I want you to remember how ‘terrified’ I am.
When your kick comes up short, or your leg comes up broken, and you find yourself getting knocked out, or tapped out, or even pinned wide awake and aware, I want you to climb to your feet after my music has played and I want you to remember how ‘terrified’ I was.
And then when the time does come for me to relieve you of your Pride Championship status, I want you to tell everybody that’ll listen how terrified Evan Envi was of you, and how much your opinion actually mattered while Evan Envi slowly but surely took the Pride Championship away. Because maybe to someone, Molly, that’ll matter. But to me it doesn’t matter. To the history books, it won’t matter. The only thing that matters is who walks away as the Pride Champion, and it may not be official this Saturday at Retribution during our non-title match, but soon enough it WILL be me. Rest assured.
And like, you’ve found your footing again, Molly. With my help you’re back at the level you’ve pretended to be at since you got here. But you should be terrified about what happens to you after you’ve lost the Pride Championship.
Because once that happens, we start the same old story over again; pitiful, sniveling Molly, reaching for the brass ring, trying desperately to cement her name in the foundation of our business. Finally.
And you’ll miss. And you’ll fall. And that’ll be what your legacy is. You’ll have done the dance so many times-- THAT will be who the world recognizes Molly Reid to be. And that’s it, Molly. That’s the legacy you’re gonna spend your career cementing.
And that…
That’s something to truly be terrified of.”
HENDERSON, NV
“You see how she flaunts it, Sadie? Like she’s so cool. You see how she boasts every chance she gets about being the Pride Champion? It’s like she doesn’t feel guilty at all for killing Fuji’s mom!”
Evan Envi sat across from me, eyes scrolling down post after post on his Twitter timeline, phone held firmly in front of his face which grew redder and redder by the second.
Now, I’d learned to filter through Evan Harrison’s tirades. Parts like that usually fell upon deaf ears. I risked shooting him a glance over the-- thus far-- peaceful breakfast. At long last, Evan had filled his house with furniture, just a month after burning it all while ”searching for himself.” Now gone were the days of standing at the kitchen table while I ate cereal. Farewell to the countless nights of sleeping on an air mattress in the middle of a near-empty room.
But I digress.
Evan caught my eye, even if only for that brief second. He frowned, waiting impatiently for his response.
“You’re not a fan of hers, are you?” he asked in an uncharacteristically quiet tone.
“I dunno,” I muttered, allowing the spoon to drop from my fingers, back down into the bowl. “Guess we’ll decide based on how bad she beats your ass this weekend.”
“See! Stuff like that ain’t funny! Stop putting your negative vibes out there.” Evan pushed himself up from the table, walking his own dishes over to the sink as he continued. “You gonna be in Minnesota to watch it all go down?”
I hesitated with the answer. Envi had started spending his time with what I’d like to refer to as the undesirables. People like Neon. People like Courtney Leinart-- the worst kind of ring rat. The thought turned my stomach. Meeting his eyes again after what was probably an eternity, I carefully constructed my reply.
“Probably not, no.”
Nailed it.
“Suit yourself. You’ll wanna see the look on Maleficent’s face up-close when she gets Kapowski Kicked and I make her look DUMB.”
I nodded toward the living room. “We have DVR. It’s fine.”
Evan stomped a foot in frustration, because there’s no better way to define both maturity and manhood in one single instance. “WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I DON’T HAVE FULL SUPPORT IN MY WAR AGAINST REID?!”
“I dunno,” I muttered, knowing full well that I knew. “You need an army to go to war. And maybe no one else wants a war on Reid.” I shrugged. “I think, in a little way, everyone likes Reid. Or at least at one point they might’ve liked Reid.” Again, I shrugged, because. “The kids all like Reid.”
”Shut up, Sadie.”
I raised my hands defensively, pushing myself away from the table as well. Because I, for one, do not need to be slapped in the face for my suggestions.
“I’ll be there in spirit, Ev,” I said obligatorily. “I’ll be watching. I’ll be a call or a FaceTime away or whatever if you end up finding God in Minnesota or something and wanna talk about it.”
“You know who does support me?” Evan went on, ignoring my previous comment. “My friggin’ Dad supports me.”
“No… that’s absolutely not true.”
“Yes it is. And he’s coming tomorrow so we can play golf! He knows where my head needs to be at to get through something like this!”
“Ev--”
“He knows exactly what I need to do to BEAT someone like Molly Reid. He was a U.S. National somethingweight Golden Gloves boxing friggin’ champion!”
Whatever I said at this point would’ve been a waste of my own energy. Evan was looking off into the distance, caught in his own hype. I had no choice but to look with him. Easier.
“There’s a championship in my future too, Sadie. Except I’m not gonna have to punch faces to get there.” He turned back toward me, sharply. ”Imma have to punch throats.”
October 13, 2016
HENDERSON, NV
“So you were fuckin’ this girl before all this, right?”
Evan’s father squared his shoulders, club in hand, sizing up the off-white golf ball that sat ominously on the tee. A cigar was hanging out of his mouth and Evan was standing downwind of the dude, taking in all that tobacco smoke like a fucking champion. He coughed loudly before responding.
“Who? Molly?”
“The broad you’re fighting.”
“Oh. Uh.” Evan looked at me. “Yeah. All the time. That’s why she hates me so bad, y’know? She basically misses my--”
“You know what I always taught you,” Mr. Harrison said out of the corner of his mouth, eyes narrowing on the golf ball. “Bitch gets too mouthy, don’t be afraid to assert yourself. Don’t listen to those bullshit commercials on the radio. You can take the back of your hand to a bitch when it’s necessary.” Mr. Harrison stood upright and turned, blowing a cloud of smoke in Evan’s face. “Why’d she turn on you anyway? Huh? What was she, a gold-digger?”
“Oh. Uhhhhh…” Evan glanced at me for help but I just stared back, because fuck his dad. He continued without my assistance, turning back to his dad with a shrug. “No. Just really ungrateful.”
“Ugh.”
“And really violent, Dad!”
“UGH.” Mr. Harrison finally swung, sending the ball flying into the distance, clear over the lake on the course and into the green on the other side. He turned his head toward Evan, sharply. “She put her hands on you!?”
“All over me!”
“And you took it like the pussified little bitch your mother raised.”
“I… sssss… hrrmmm…”
Mr. Harrison tossed his club aside and turned to Evan, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you take that bullshit. I know how fragile you are. I know your ego can’t take it.”
“Well--”
“It ain’t your fault.” Mr. Harrison sighed. “It was your mother. She fucked you up. Bless her.”
Evan blinked hard and finally narrowed his eyes at his dad. “I’m gonna make this right, Dad. I’m not gonna let Molly Reid take a crap on our family name.”
“GODDAMN RIGHT YOU WON’T.” Mr. Harrison made the strides over to his club and bent down, picking it back up, using it to point at his son. “There’s no shame in gettin’ upstaged by a woman. But there is no excuse to get your bell rung by a goddamned ring rat. I didn’t go to war for this. Your mother didn’t prosecute Todd Bridges to see you end up like this!”
“You’re right, Dad.”
Evan calmly pushed the end of the club away and gave his father a calm, yet stern nod.
“I’m not gonna let her get one over on the Harrisons. Imma beat her like she stole somethin’ dad. Somethin’ really expensive.”
“Show no fuckin' mercy,” Mr. Harrison said, darkly, turning to lock eyes with his son once more. “It’s over when she can’t run her mouth.”
With that, he turned his back on Evan, making his way over toward where the ball had landed. As if mesmerized, Evan followed after him, dragging his feet against the grass, staying just a pace behind his dad. I stayed back, watching in amusement. In awe. But if nothing else, I hoped Evan was able to do for himself what he claimed he did for Molly. As I finally took those first steps and followed behind the Harrisons, I could only hope in my head that Evan was willing to push himself to the next level.
October 14, 2016
HENDERSON, NV
”Terrified.
Terrified-- that’s the word you decided to use.
After what we’ve been through and what we’ve discussed, you think that was what was driving me… fear. And I wanna scoff at that, but like-- I get it, maybe. Perhaps I sent some mixed signals when I rushed you backstage before the Five Way Fray, y’now? I mean… OKAYYYY, maybe I was being a little bit facetious when I said I was just trying to push you to that next level-- just trying to get you there. That might not have been the FULL truth. So that's my bad.
A large part of the reason I did what I did, Molly… is because I don’t like you. I can only keep dressing facts like that up for so long, y'know?
And it’s easy to forget that I did. I DID like you. I was a huge Molly Reid fan. Don’t let that be forgotten. Even when you came to us in SCW only a disappointing shell of the Reid we saw in Insurgency, I still supported you. I still clamored to give you opportunity after opportunity with whatever power I had. I still wanted people like you, people like Dexter Jacobs, people like Dom Harter-- ingrates, all of you-- to be the faces of that company. And even when I didn’t have that power anymore and you had waddled your way back here to FGA after a hiatus, I still cheered you from a distance. We weren’t ever close or anything, but I never lost faith in you as a competitor. And most people can’t say that. You can’t even say that.
So I came here. And some say I got a little carried away. I got a little too invested in the situation, AND WHATEVER, MAYBE I DID, SCREW ME FOR BEING PASSIONATE, RIGHT… but I wanted to help you. For what was like, what, three freaking years you hadn’t done anything to make ANYONE turn their heads. Nothing. And no, it wasn’t my business, and yeah, it WAS selfish as heck in a way, but I just wanted to be a part of rebuilding what COULD have been the legacy of Molly Reid. You were dead in the water before I got here. And I wanted to be a part of changing it. I wanted to be in the driver's seat while we journeyed to a new Molly.
And I was.
I did light that fire. I did get you there. Even when you didn’t appreciate me, I still added to your legacy when I could’ve just let it lay stagnant and rot. Heh. I probably saved you! I mean-- I mean did you SEE the look in your eyes before the Fray, man? Peep those replays. You were a Molly possessed! And y’know I could’ve done a lot worse to you backstage. You didn’t have to walk out from behind the curtain that night. It could’ve been horrific and instead of this sudden rejuvenation, you could be crawling your way to the shelf but you are NOT. If I was terrified, Molly, I would’ve just eliminated you from the Pride Title picture altogether. But that’s the coward’s way out!
And Evan Envi is not a coward.
When it came down to it, you did what you had to in the Five Way. You hit me as hard as you possibly could and you hit me in a way you weren’t hitting Savannah and Storm and the others. I saw that. You weren’t hitting me with the intent to end the friggin’ match. You were trying to HURT me. You wanted to take me out of contention. I could sit here and say you couldn’t have beat me but I don’t know what was running through your head when you saw me… I just know I saw rage. And I was like a proud father! Watching you ball up those fists, screamin’ like a banshee, I knew I’d struck a nerve that no one else in FGA had been able to, man!
And listen to you now. Listen to the swagger. You think you could take on the world if you needed to, don’t you?
That kind of attitude goes a long way. It drives people. It turns ordinary, average, mediocre athletes into household names and champions. And I deserve the credit for GETTING YOU TO THAT LEVEL. The reason that I DESERVE a one-on-one shot with the brand new Pride Champion before anybody else is because I pushed you to it. No one else was gonna make you dig, Molly-- Fuji sure as heck wasn’t gonna-- and no one else is gonna test you harder than I am at Retribution.
But back to how all this started: Above & Beyond wasn’t my fault and I think this fact is CRIMINALLY UNDERSTATED. So let’s make it clear right now, once and for all.
Me having your back wasn’t the reason you couldn’t beat Johnny Karma in the Frontier Lion’s Cup. You lost because you couldn’t focus. You lost because it wasn’t important enough to you. I was there, but I didn’t seal your fate. Heck, it’s not like I was there to support Karma of all people. He ain’t my boy. He’s nothing on my end. And if you want an apology, then I’m SORRRRYYYY for my part in that, but when you lose again on Saturday, there’s not some shadowy figure at ringside that you can lay the blame on. When I become the number one contender for the Pride Title, that’s on you. And I’m sure you’ll focus this time. I’m positive it’s important enough to you this time.
But I have paved this path for myself DIRECTLY to the Pride Championship and I’m not letting you cut me off now. It looks nice on your shoulder, Molly, but it deserves somebody that can take it to the top. It needs that. And me, HELPFUL ME-- I’m willing to take it there. I’m willing to fight the battle Fuji wasn’t strong enough to fight, and defend the Pride Championship over and over and over and over and over and if beating you twice is what I have to do to get there, then fine. Shame on anyone that doubts I’ll do just that!
I understand the kind of a threat you are though. I like to have some fun on Twitter like everybody else but I know what you are, man. You are one of the quickest, craftiest strikers I’ve ever watched or competed against. You’re sharper than I like to pretend you are in front of people. You are a good wrestler. I mean, at first you were kind of like every other hardcore, garbage, pseudo-psycho wrestler that seems to pop up every few months and you DEFINITELY WERE THAT, but you evolved, dude. You’re more than some fists and elbows and feet, haha… and I watched the evolution, Molly! I can SAY that I watched you become who you are today! Here, right now in October 2016, you ARE a good wrestler. You’re a good fighter. And nothing I say is gonna take that from you. One of the most devastating moves in FGA is the Molly Kick and I’m completely aware of that. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. And I’ve seen enough of the results to know that if I take that kick, I might not be able to make a three count and the Pride Championship will have to wait indefinitely to realize its true potential!
The Molly Kick would be catastrophic. For me. For the legacy of the Pride Championship. And for the entire future of Frontier Grappling Arts.
…
FORTUNATELY FOR US, HOWEVER, EXPERTS HAVE CONCLUDED THAT I AM UN-MOLLY-KICKABLE.
I spent a lot of my adolescence dodging things that have been hurled at me and YOUR FEET are no different! Baaaasically, Maulz, I’ve been training my whole dang life for this. I was born to NOT be kicked in the head by you. My noggin is protecting one of the most important instruments in the modern world, my brain obviously, and I won’t have you defiling it with reckless striking. I can’t. Something like that would set the Pride Championship back about twenty years and my main responsibility is to make sure that the state of Minnesota is not forced to witness the Molly Kick. For fudge sake, there are gonna be kids watching.
THE KAPOWSKI KICK on the other hand is gonna be in full-effect, Reid! There’s not a single thing you can do to stop it! There’s no evasion! There is no running-- NO HIDING, AS YOU LIKE TO SAY! Once I feel it in my loins, that’s it, bruh, THAT IS IT. Kapowski Kick, WHAM. And the end comes soon after. It’s like clockwork. It’s like a sure... thing.
Then of course from there, there are endless ways to finish you off. I could choke you out, I could knock you out, or I could do the same thing to you that I did to Nero last week and pin you, real quick-like, amateur-style, making sure you’re wide awake, cognizant throughout the whole thing. Making sure you’re still sitting there on your knees, watching in shock while you HAVE TO SEE the ref raising my hand. While you have to watch while I turn my back on you. It’ll mean more for you than it did to Nero though, amirite?
After that it’s just a matter of time.
And if you know anything about Evan Envi, Molly, you KNOWWW I’m a realist. So I have to take into consideration that fraction of a one-percent-chance that I could be wrong, and I could fall victim to the Molly Kick the same way Noelle did. The same way Fujiko did in the first fall. But I will not be deterred by a fraction of a percentage, Molly. Just like I’m driven by swagger, by confidence, I am driven by the odds and the odds are… you’re gonna bring that leg up, you’re gonna aim down your sights at the Chief, and from there one of two things will undoubtedly happen.
Either you’ll come up short, and you’ll be hit with the Blues too quick to understand what happened… or I’ll snatch your leg right out of the air and I’ll rip it, and I’ll tear it, and I’ll break it apart until you submit and you concede defeat out of your own friggin’ mouth. YOU will be solely responsible for granting me the Pride Championship match I deserve.
You.
And there’s nobody else to blame.
So. When we come out at the beginning of the night and we get our introductions and the ref signals for the bell and all that, I want you to look across from me with that stupid little look you like to make, and I want you to focus on my eyes from across the ring. And I want you to remember how ‘terrified’ I am.
When we take those first steps toward each other at the beginning of the match and we make contact for the first time, I want you to focus on my eyes, just for a sec, and I want you to remember how ‘terrified’ I am.
When your kick comes up short, or your leg comes up broken, and you find yourself getting knocked out, or tapped out, or even pinned wide awake and aware, I want you to climb to your feet after my music has played and I want you to remember how ‘terrified’ I was.
And then when the time does come for me to relieve you of your Pride Championship status, I want you to tell everybody that’ll listen how terrified Evan Envi was of you, and how much your opinion actually mattered while Evan Envi slowly but surely took the Pride Championship away. Because maybe to someone, Molly, that’ll matter. But to me it doesn’t matter. To the history books, it won’t matter. The only thing that matters is who walks away as the Pride Champion, and it may not be official this Saturday at Retribution during our non-title match, but soon enough it WILL be me. Rest assured.
And like, you’ve found your footing again, Molly. With my help you’re back at the level you’ve pretended to be at since you got here. But you should be terrified about what happens to you after you’ve lost the Pride Championship.
Because once that happens, we start the same old story over again; pitiful, sniveling Molly, reaching for the brass ring, trying desperately to cement her name in the foundation of our business. Finally.
And you’ll miss. And you’ll fall. And that’ll be what your legacy is. You’ll have done the dance so many times-- THAT will be who the world recognizes Molly Reid to be. And that’s it, Molly. That’s the legacy you’re gonna spend your career cementing.
And that…
That’s something to truly be terrified of.”