Post by aleisterdavison on May 31, 2020 11:04:58 GMT -5
Showcase was a demonstration. An example of what happens when you decide NOT to listen. Not to accept what's before your very eyes. I told y'all that I would humiliate Demon X. That he didn't have the talent. The ability to hang with me in the ring, but you didn't listen. You cheered for him, hoping that it would somehow change the inevitable outcome, then cry when it didn't.
Just like a lamb that is being led to the slaughterhouse. It tries everything that it can in order to achieve a different outcome. To attempt to avoid the slaughter, but in the end: it is slaughtered regardless of what it tries. That was Demon X. That was each and every one of the participants in the Fatal Fate match. I told y'all that I was going to be walking out of the match as your new Pureblood champion, but you again didn't listen. You again chose to believe that somebody would be able to knock me down a peg. That I would not walk out of my first event as a champion.
Yet I did just that. I did exactly what I promised I would do. Just as I always have. I don't just call myself the best wrestler. I AM the best wrestler. Night in and night out.
As for me joining the Syndicate? They were the ONLY ones who realized that. Who was able to see that I am someone who shifts the whole dynamic of OPW. Tips it on its head, just as I did the moment I walked through the doors. They realized that if they wanted to continue their hold on the roster. If they wanted to continue showcasing WHY they are the best grouping of talent in the game, I was their go-to.
For me, it's a chance to remind y'all. To ensure you don't forget just who the fuck I am. Just why each and every single person watching realizes that the tide is slowly turning. That soon, all the cards will be in my hands. In the hands of the Syndicate. Just watch as we continue to suffocate everything you hold near and dear.
SCENE ONE.
Aleister: I did what I needed to do. Just as you told me, Troy.
I sit atop a midnight black leather couch, within a private office at the Gulf Shores Public Works facilities. One of the perks granted to me by L.A Johnny Stylez for joining up and affiliating myself with the Syndicate. Attired in a jet black t-shirt, with a golden logo of a phoenix embroidered onto the right breast, denim jeans, and chocolate brown leather boots. My iPhone 9 is gently pressed against my left ear, as I speak with my stepdad/mentor Troy Finn.
The day after following through with EXACTLY what I had promised I would do. That is, walk out of Showcase having not only embarrassed Demon X, but also with the Pureblood championship in my possession.
Smiling to myself, I await Troy's response to my comments, knowing that he has been in the same position as I was in many times over his career. Especially when he was vying for the NWL world championship.
Troy: There's a difference between when I did it and what you did last night, son. I didn't turn my back on the fans or those who saw me as a hero.
His told scolding in nature, I let out soft laughter. As much as I don't want to admit it verbally, he is right. He never did "turn his back" on the audience, like I did last night. Even if to me, it's not as much "turning my back on them" as much as it is "making the best decision for me and my career". Which is what matters most. I sigh gently, before exhaling.
Aleister: I'm not you though. I'm not just going to follow everything you did and ignore MY career in the process. You should know that. After all, it's why you never became the superstar you should have been, isn't it?
Silence. I know I've struck a nerve with that comment, but it's the truth. Troy knows it as well. He even told me during storytime in the gym that the greatest regret he has about his career is that he WASN'T ever able to break through the glass ceiling. That he could never find a way to truly attain the superstardom that he richly deserved. Superstardom that I have attained my first night in OPW.
It's enough to make ANYBODY jealous, even if Troy knows it's best to hide that jealousy. That he shouldn't allow his envy of my status to get between our relationship. His mentorship of me.
Troy: You're right. You are your own person. I'm just warning you that there's a cost to neglecting the fans in this industry. Even if you don't realize it right now. You'll eventually have to learn how to deal with it when it comes.
I shake my head. It's the same spiel he gave to me during our gym sessions. His way if trying to make us understand the importance of fans in this industry. I get it. They are the ones who sustain our livelihoods, but that doesn't mean I'll pander to them. Or that I'll sacrifice myself just to make them happy. Troy knows that too, which is why he's trying to make it sound as sympathetic as possible, whilst still a scolding. Much like teachers use to do in high school.
Aleister: Okay. I know I'm ready for any backlash they may have though. I'm not bothered by that shit. I wasn't bothered in the gym or in Japan and I'm sure as fuck not bothered now. Let them boo. I'll just keep opening their eyes. Just as I did at Showcase.
My voice flat, I can feel Troy wanting to cut in with a response but holding it back. Knowing that it's best NOT to turn this into a yelling contest, or one where he allows his emotions to get the best of him. He doesn't want that and knows that despite my attitude. Despite my disregard and disrespect for the fans and their influence, that I don't want that either. We're both just stubborn when it comes to this shit. Always have been and probably always will be.
Troy: I know you will. That's why I'm proud of you. Why your mom's proud of you. We just want you to be the best person you can be...
I cut him off, a smile slightly creeping across my face.
Aleister: I AM the best person I can be. I don't need any fan to tell me that. You know this is who I am and that I don't give a fuck what people think.
Silence again. I know I came across as angry, but if anyone should already know this shit, it's Troy. I'm not going to change who I am or unaffiliate from the Syndicate just because it makes people upset. Fuck that noise. Why should I care what people think? Exhaling, I await his response, as I lean back in the chair. The smile on my face widening.
Aleister: I'm not about to start giving a fuck about that shit either. If they want to hate me, they can hate me. Just know that all it'll do is make their tears even more delicious in the end. When I prove each and every word I have told them.
Troy still doesn't reply, yet I hear the sounds of the Television in the background, letting me know that he's still on the phone. He had probably been walking from wherever he had been into the lounge room. Though I know he heard what I had been saying.
Troy: I know you will. You're a gifted athlete, Aleister. You have abilities I wish I had between those ropes...
I hear him exhale, as his voice quivers whilst saying these next words.
Troy: ...You're right. I NEVER did reach the level I was supposed to. Mostly due to my own mistakes. Mistakes that I want you to learn from.
I gently laugh, as I continue leaning back in the chair. Nearly tipping it onto its back legs as I attempt to balance myself.
Aleister: I know, Troy. I appreciate you, but I ain't going to change who I am. You know that.
Troy: You don't need to change who you are.
He pauses, inhaling.
Troy: Just note what I have said and think about it. Anyway, I've got to go and finish running these errands, so I'll talk to you later.
I exhale slightly, smiling to myself.
Aleister: Bye.
Pulling the phone from my ear, I allow his words to settle into my mind. Take some time to process them and understand what he is trying to tell me. Why the lesson of not forgetting the fans or who you are is crucial if I am to continue along the path of success. Of glory that I have been.
Even this early into my OPW career. Sighing, I place my phone back into my jeans pocket whilst continuing to relax atop the chair. The phonecall having given me some thinking material if nothing else.
SCENE TWO.
I sit atop a one-seat midnight black leather couch, inside of Room 218 at the Faena Hotel, attired in a navy blue shirt with a charcoal jacket, midnight black tracksuit pants, and snow-white Nike sneakers that have jet black accents.
Behind me, the walls are painted cream and have various silver-framed pictures upon them. Each one hanging from steel nails that had been hammered into the wall. Pressed against the right-hand corner of the room is a king-sized bed, with a cotton slate white blanket draped across it.
The room, of course, has been paid for by my own paycheck, though it did help that my affiliation with the Syndicate gave me the hook up with this hotel. It's amazing what an appreciation for the finer things in life will do for you. Especially when you know just where to be looking.
In front of me, is a tripod camera that I have set up, ready to record my weekly dialogue and video about my upcoming match. Or in this case, my first championship defense.
Aleister: Pequeno Dinosaurio. The first man who wishes to step up. To try and claim my Pureblood belt. A man, who has earned this right by winning his first two matches in OPW, just as I have.
I laugh to myself slightly, remember how Sahara intentionally got herself disqualified in her bout v the Dinosaur, before coldly looking into the camera, a slight grin apparent upon my face.
Aleister: Usually, people would see that as impressive. As a sign that you ARE some threat. Some talent that should be feared. When that isn't the case at all, is it now Pequeno?
I pause, my eyes unwavering in their cold, merciless expression. My smile returning to a stoic, unimpressed expression.
Aleister: Let's look at your wins. A triple threat against two frauds and a win where your opponent decided they wanted to be charitable and hand you the win. As in, they literally snitched on themselves so that you wouldn't go home and cry to daddy that they were being unfair. That they bruised your ego.
My voice stern, I continue with this angle of scolding Pequeno and telling him that to me, his two wins are meaningless. That they are irrelevant, a lot like him.
Aleister: Yet you are the one that has been given the opportunity. The chance to come at my belt. To add the notch under your belt and say that YOU are on my level. That you were able to conjure up a way to defeat me.[/b]
Without even finishing my sentence, I burst out into laughter. Unable to hold it in, I smirk widely as I look into the camera, a sarcastic expression coming across my face as I do.
Aleister: Really? A child who dresses up and cosplays as a dinosaur, defeating the single best wrestler in the game today? Beating a man who not only sent Demon X out with his tail between his legs but walked out of fatal fate with the Pureblood title? Are we in some sort of fantasy? A fairytale? In reality, it's not even a thought.
I ponder my next statement, whilst glancing off to the right. Then back at the camera.
Aleister: I know, I know. You're honoring your Lucha heritage and your family. Noble, but misguided at the same time. It's not your family that has to wear the scars of your defeat. It's not your family who is making sure you're thriving. It's you.
The sooner you realize that your family ties are worth nothing. That as much as you want to lie to yourself and pretend they do, they're meaningless unless you can actually step up. Be a man the moment you step between those ropes.
I lower my voice into a chilling whisper
Aleister: Otherwise, all they will do is lead you to defeat. I don't give a f*** about your heritage. I don't care that you're doing this for them. All I say about is making you into another example. Another demonstration of why there is not a single soul who is better than me. Who can ever consider taking this belt from me?
I shake my head slightly.
Aleister: You can try, but it'll merely lead to failure. Trust me.
Turning the camera off, I let out a breath. This is just the first man stepping up. The first man who believes they can take this belt away from me. That they're the next in line for the title. I say bring it. It'll be all the more fun to show you why you ain't going to. Why you are another lamp to the slaughter. Trust me.
Just like a lamb that is being led to the slaughterhouse. It tries everything that it can in order to achieve a different outcome. To attempt to avoid the slaughter, but in the end: it is slaughtered regardless of what it tries. That was Demon X. That was each and every one of the participants in the Fatal Fate match. I told y'all that I was going to be walking out of the match as your new Pureblood champion, but you again didn't listen. You again chose to believe that somebody would be able to knock me down a peg. That I would not walk out of my first event as a champion.
Yet I did just that. I did exactly what I promised I would do. Just as I always have. I don't just call myself the best wrestler. I AM the best wrestler. Night in and night out.
As for me joining the Syndicate? They were the ONLY ones who realized that. Who was able to see that I am someone who shifts the whole dynamic of OPW. Tips it on its head, just as I did the moment I walked through the doors. They realized that if they wanted to continue their hold on the roster. If they wanted to continue showcasing WHY they are the best grouping of talent in the game, I was their go-to.
For me, it's a chance to remind y'all. To ensure you don't forget just who the fuck I am. Just why each and every single person watching realizes that the tide is slowly turning. That soon, all the cards will be in my hands. In the hands of the Syndicate. Just watch as we continue to suffocate everything you hold near and dear.
SCENE ONE.
Aleister: I did what I needed to do. Just as you told me, Troy.
I sit atop a midnight black leather couch, within a private office at the Gulf Shores Public Works facilities. One of the perks granted to me by L.A Johnny Stylez for joining up and affiliating myself with the Syndicate. Attired in a jet black t-shirt, with a golden logo of a phoenix embroidered onto the right breast, denim jeans, and chocolate brown leather boots. My iPhone 9 is gently pressed against my left ear, as I speak with my stepdad/mentor Troy Finn.
The day after following through with EXACTLY what I had promised I would do. That is, walk out of Showcase having not only embarrassed Demon X, but also with the Pureblood championship in my possession.
Smiling to myself, I await Troy's response to my comments, knowing that he has been in the same position as I was in many times over his career. Especially when he was vying for the NWL world championship.
Troy: There's a difference between when I did it and what you did last night, son. I didn't turn my back on the fans or those who saw me as a hero.
His told scolding in nature, I let out soft laughter. As much as I don't want to admit it verbally, he is right. He never did "turn his back" on the audience, like I did last night. Even if to me, it's not as much "turning my back on them" as much as it is "making the best decision for me and my career". Which is what matters most. I sigh gently, before exhaling.
Aleister: I'm not you though. I'm not just going to follow everything you did and ignore MY career in the process. You should know that. After all, it's why you never became the superstar you should have been, isn't it?
Silence. I know I've struck a nerve with that comment, but it's the truth. Troy knows it as well. He even told me during storytime in the gym that the greatest regret he has about his career is that he WASN'T ever able to break through the glass ceiling. That he could never find a way to truly attain the superstardom that he richly deserved. Superstardom that I have attained my first night in OPW.
It's enough to make ANYBODY jealous, even if Troy knows it's best to hide that jealousy. That he shouldn't allow his envy of my status to get between our relationship. His mentorship of me.
Troy: You're right. You are your own person. I'm just warning you that there's a cost to neglecting the fans in this industry. Even if you don't realize it right now. You'll eventually have to learn how to deal with it when it comes.
I shake my head. It's the same spiel he gave to me during our gym sessions. His way if trying to make us understand the importance of fans in this industry. I get it. They are the ones who sustain our livelihoods, but that doesn't mean I'll pander to them. Or that I'll sacrifice myself just to make them happy. Troy knows that too, which is why he's trying to make it sound as sympathetic as possible, whilst still a scolding. Much like teachers use to do in high school.
Aleister: Okay. I know I'm ready for any backlash they may have though. I'm not bothered by that shit. I wasn't bothered in the gym or in Japan and I'm sure as fuck not bothered now. Let them boo. I'll just keep opening their eyes. Just as I did at Showcase.
My voice flat, I can feel Troy wanting to cut in with a response but holding it back. Knowing that it's best NOT to turn this into a yelling contest, or one where he allows his emotions to get the best of him. He doesn't want that and knows that despite my attitude. Despite my disregard and disrespect for the fans and their influence, that I don't want that either. We're both just stubborn when it comes to this shit. Always have been and probably always will be.
Troy: I know you will. That's why I'm proud of you. Why your mom's proud of you. We just want you to be the best person you can be...
I cut him off, a smile slightly creeping across my face.
Aleister: I AM the best person I can be. I don't need any fan to tell me that. You know this is who I am and that I don't give a fuck what people think.
Silence again. I know I came across as angry, but if anyone should already know this shit, it's Troy. I'm not going to change who I am or unaffiliate from the Syndicate just because it makes people upset. Fuck that noise. Why should I care what people think? Exhaling, I await his response, as I lean back in the chair. The smile on my face widening.
Aleister: I'm not about to start giving a fuck about that shit either. If they want to hate me, they can hate me. Just know that all it'll do is make their tears even more delicious in the end. When I prove each and every word I have told them.
Troy still doesn't reply, yet I hear the sounds of the Television in the background, letting me know that he's still on the phone. He had probably been walking from wherever he had been into the lounge room. Though I know he heard what I had been saying.
Troy: I know you will. You're a gifted athlete, Aleister. You have abilities I wish I had between those ropes...
I hear him exhale, as his voice quivers whilst saying these next words.
Troy: ...You're right. I NEVER did reach the level I was supposed to. Mostly due to my own mistakes. Mistakes that I want you to learn from.
I gently laugh, as I continue leaning back in the chair. Nearly tipping it onto its back legs as I attempt to balance myself.
Aleister: I know, Troy. I appreciate you, but I ain't going to change who I am. You know that.
Troy: You don't need to change who you are.
He pauses, inhaling.
Troy: Just note what I have said and think about it. Anyway, I've got to go and finish running these errands, so I'll talk to you later.
I exhale slightly, smiling to myself.
Aleister: Bye.
Pulling the phone from my ear, I allow his words to settle into my mind. Take some time to process them and understand what he is trying to tell me. Why the lesson of not forgetting the fans or who you are is crucial if I am to continue along the path of success. Of glory that I have been.
Even this early into my OPW career. Sighing, I place my phone back into my jeans pocket whilst continuing to relax atop the chair. The phonecall having given me some thinking material if nothing else.
SCENE TWO.
I sit atop a one-seat midnight black leather couch, inside of Room 218 at the Faena Hotel, attired in a navy blue shirt with a charcoal jacket, midnight black tracksuit pants, and snow-white Nike sneakers that have jet black accents.
Behind me, the walls are painted cream and have various silver-framed pictures upon them. Each one hanging from steel nails that had been hammered into the wall. Pressed against the right-hand corner of the room is a king-sized bed, with a cotton slate white blanket draped across it.
The room, of course, has been paid for by my own paycheck, though it did help that my affiliation with the Syndicate gave me the hook up with this hotel. It's amazing what an appreciation for the finer things in life will do for you. Especially when you know just where to be looking.
In front of me, is a tripod camera that I have set up, ready to record my weekly dialogue and video about my upcoming match. Or in this case, my first championship defense.
Aleister: Pequeno Dinosaurio. The first man who wishes to step up. To try and claim my Pureblood belt. A man, who has earned this right by winning his first two matches in OPW, just as I have.
I laugh to myself slightly, remember how Sahara intentionally got herself disqualified in her bout v the Dinosaur, before coldly looking into the camera, a slight grin apparent upon my face.
Aleister: Usually, people would see that as impressive. As a sign that you ARE some threat. Some talent that should be feared. When that isn't the case at all, is it now Pequeno?
I pause, my eyes unwavering in their cold, merciless expression. My smile returning to a stoic, unimpressed expression.
Aleister: Let's look at your wins. A triple threat against two frauds and a win where your opponent decided they wanted to be charitable and hand you the win. As in, they literally snitched on themselves so that you wouldn't go home and cry to daddy that they were being unfair. That they bruised your ego.
My voice stern, I continue with this angle of scolding Pequeno and telling him that to me, his two wins are meaningless. That they are irrelevant, a lot like him.
Aleister: Yet you are the one that has been given the opportunity. The chance to come at my belt. To add the notch under your belt and say that YOU are on my level. That you were able to conjure up a way to defeat me.[/b]
Without even finishing my sentence, I burst out into laughter. Unable to hold it in, I smirk widely as I look into the camera, a sarcastic expression coming across my face as I do.
Aleister: Really? A child who dresses up and cosplays as a dinosaur, defeating the single best wrestler in the game today? Beating a man who not only sent Demon X out with his tail between his legs but walked out of fatal fate with the Pureblood title? Are we in some sort of fantasy? A fairytale? In reality, it's not even a thought.
I ponder my next statement, whilst glancing off to the right. Then back at the camera.
Aleister: I know, I know. You're honoring your Lucha heritage and your family. Noble, but misguided at the same time. It's not your family that has to wear the scars of your defeat. It's not your family who is making sure you're thriving. It's you.
The sooner you realize that your family ties are worth nothing. That as much as you want to lie to yourself and pretend they do, they're meaningless unless you can actually step up. Be a man the moment you step between those ropes.
I lower my voice into a chilling whisper
Aleister: Otherwise, all they will do is lead you to defeat. I don't give a f*** about your heritage. I don't care that you're doing this for them. All I say about is making you into another example. Another demonstration of why there is not a single soul who is better than me. Who can ever consider taking this belt from me?
I shake my head slightly.
Aleister: You can try, but it'll merely lead to failure. Trust me.
Turning the camera off, I let out a breath. This is just the first man stepping up. The first man who believes they can take this belt away from me. That they're the next in line for the title. I say bring it. It'll be all the more fun to show you why you ain't going to. Why you are another lamp to the slaughter. Trust me.