Post by Deleted on Jun 25, 2012 20:29:46 GMT -5
Phillip Schneider.
Why does everything seem to revolve around you, no matter how much I try to keep myself separate from you? As far as I was concerned, our business was concluded at SuperBrawl. I had my victory and you, even in defeat, had you chance at the World Heavyweight Championship; honestly, I'll admit that I was fine with it. But you, you apparently weren't. Once I'd been forced to take time off to recover, you seriously couldn't help but run your mouth about how you'd "ended my career". And for awhile sure, I wanted nothing more but to return and make you eat those very words.
I came to realize though, during my "vacation", that there were more important things I had to worry about in the WFWF; the World Title being first and foremost. Or so I thought. I returned at It's Super Effective with but one goal in mind, spear the World Heavyweight Champion; regardless of who he was, you or Kyzer. I wanted to come back and make it clear to the world that I was coming for the World Heavyweight Championship and, as fate had it, you were now the champion. Screwed right from the start, as it now seems.
Everyone thought I was gunning for you and I was trying my damnedest to tell them otherwise, until Xavier Pierce paired us up at Survival of the Fittest. But I kept my head down and my mouth shut, just looking to fight the good fights until we met at Survival; only there would I have something to prove to you and the fans in a straight fight against you Phillip. Yet sadly, as they do, the haters begin to speak up; their arrogant claims of my cowardice towards you, their calls of me being afraid to face you, and you're own Pre-It's Super Effective words ringing in my ears forced me to cross the line I'd drawn myself.
I strode to the ring during you're match with Mak Cross and, while I can't say I didn't enjoy it, I couldn't help myself from laying you out on the ramp. Certainly shot myself in the foot there, but my point had to be made loud and clear. I'm not afraid of you. In fact, I think I may have proved that the opposite is true. My music alone seemed to scare you Schneider. Is that true Phillip, or are you just getting a tad paranoid as your rack up such a list of enemies?
As it is, it seems that I've brought myself to this juncture, despite my best hopes not to. The fact is Phillip, I don't care who I face to acquire the World Heavyweight Championship; never have and never will. But if Xavier Pierce wants to grab that big draw of Hutton Brown vs. Phillip Schneider again, then I simply don't have choice. But that, that will have to wait. Because for now, I get to have a real special match, with your real special student.
Alexis Chavente.
[/i][/color]Why does everything seem to revolve around you, no matter how much I try to keep myself separate from you? As far as I was concerned, our business was concluded at SuperBrawl. I had my victory and you, even in defeat, had you chance at the World Heavyweight Championship; honestly, I'll admit that I was fine with it. But you, you apparently weren't. Once I'd been forced to take time off to recover, you seriously couldn't help but run your mouth about how you'd "ended my career". And for awhile sure, I wanted nothing more but to return and make you eat those very words.
I came to realize though, during my "vacation", that there were more important things I had to worry about in the WFWF; the World Title being first and foremost. Or so I thought. I returned at It's Super Effective with but one goal in mind, spear the World Heavyweight Champion; regardless of who he was, you or Kyzer. I wanted to come back and make it clear to the world that I was coming for the World Heavyweight Championship and, as fate had it, you were now the champion. Screwed right from the start, as it now seems.
Everyone thought I was gunning for you and I was trying my damnedest to tell them otherwise, until Xavier Pierce paired us up at Survival of the Fittest. But I kept my head down and my mouth shut, just looking to fight the good fights until we met at Survival; only there would I have something to prove to you and the fans in a straight fight against you Phillip. Yet sadly, as they do, the haters begin to speak up; their arrogant claims of my cowardice towards you, their calls of me being afraid to face you, and you're own Pre-It's Super Effective words ringing in my ears forced me to cross the line I'd drawn myself.
I strode to the ring during you're match with Mak Cross and, while I can't say I didn't enjoy it, I couldn't help myself from laying you out on the ramp. Certainly shot myself in the foot there, but my point had to be made loud and clear. I'm not afraid of you. In fact, I think I may have proved that the opposite is true. My music alone seemed to scare you Schneider. Is that true Phillip, or are you just getting a tad paranoid as your rack up such a list of enemies?
As it is, it seems that I've brought myself to this juncture, despite my best hopes not to. The fact is Phillip, I don't care who I face to acquire the World Heavyweight Championship; never have and never will. But if Xavier Pierce wants to grab that big draw of Hutton Brown vs. Phillip Schneider again, then I simply don't have choice. But that, that will have to wait. Because for now, I get to have a real special match, with your real special student.
Alexis Chavente.
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06/10/2012[/u]
In the comfortable office of XWA Owner Hutton Brown, all is quiet. Hutton sits in a comfortable leather chair, enjoying each moment of the peace; such serenity not easily found now that he was the big boss man. He'd expected it, being the owner of Rated X Media for years and all that, but he'd never run a wrestling promotion before. It was a very similar experience but, like most things, it was providing its own challenges. It was something he would adapt to without problem, something that would simply take time. No however, was simply a time to enjoy some time to himself. Or so he thought, as the door to his office suddenly bursts open without even so much as a knock first. The door swings open and slams shut in an instant, though Hutton is unable to see who it is as they enter.
:: I can't take this anymore!The clearly angry voice belongs to a women as she steps right up to his desk and shouts at the leather chair behind it facing away from her. When Hutton doesn't answer her as she would come to expect of all those around her, she grabs the back of the chair and spins it around; only to find no one seated in it.
:: Hutton?It's rather clear that she knows Hutton was here when she'd decided to make her entrance, and also equally obvious that she hasn't noticed him either. And so, Brown spins around in his other chair on the far side of the room.
Hutton Brown: Yes Dominique?
Dominique D'Aubigne: How the hell could you do this...
Hutton Brown: Simple. I rented the chair. The bunny was here already, that was lucky. I waited to do the dramatic swivel until you called my name...
Dominique D'Aubigne: Wait, the bunny was here already?
Looking down at the white fluffy rabbit in his arms, Hutton pets it affectionately for a moment before placing it back in it's cage on the coffee table. He then rises to his feet and strides slowly towards his desk chair.
Hutton Brown: Yes, something of a belated birthday gift from the mayor of Columbus. Apparently, his wife breeds rabbits.
Spinning his chair back around, Hutton seats himself in it before pulling himself in to the wooden desk and leaning forward on it; his attention now fully focused upon Dominique D'Aubigne. She is dressed in a white shirt and match pants set, various food smudges adorning her outfit. It didn't suit her, not nearly as curve fitting as the various expensive gowns she'd worn during her time as Vanguard Entertainment's Chairman of the Board and the Xtreme Wrestling Alliance's Commissioner. But that time was now over; thanks, in part, to Hutton Brown himself.
Hutton Brown: Now Dominique, what did you need?
Her momentum thrown off by Brown's random actions, it takes Dominique several seconds to build herself back up. But when she speaks, she has very much the same anger in her voice as she'd had upon entering; as Hutton had come to expect of her.
Dominique D'Aubigne: You simply can not do to this me.
Hutton Brown: I'm quite certain I have no idea what you're talking about.
Dominique D'Aubigne: I am a businesswoman...
Hutton Brown: Who cut catering. Therefore, I thought it only fitting that you should now, serve catering. Truly ironic, now that I think about it.
Dominique D'Aubigne: This is cruel and unusual punishment and you know it!
Hutton Brown: Then I suppose you should call the police, or maybe the FBI. I'm not really sure who handles that type of thing.
Dominique D'Aubigne: Stop toying with me!
Hutton has to fight the initial urge to shout back at her and simply keeps the coy smirk upon his face, inhaling deeply through his nose as his eyes remain locked upon her own fiery ones. When Brown does begin speaking however, his tone, while full of malice, is calm and collected.
Hutton Brown: I think you really need to realize the position you're in, Dominique. No one else may have come to understand what you're true goals were with shutting down the XWA, but I did and I do. Frankly, you're lucky to be avoiding any legal troubles right now.
This time it is Dominique who falls quiet, taking a deep breath in order to help her formulate a response. Hutton's subtle threat does not go without notice, and Dominique D'Aubigne finds herself proceeding with great care now.
Dominique D'Aubigne: Then just be done with it. Fire me. I'm sure you've already made sure my future in this business is over.
Hutton Brown: I haven't actually. As you can see, I've found far more useful things for you to do than just sit at home and collect unemployment.
Dominique D'Aubigne: Then I'll quit.
Hutton Brown: Ah, that won't work. Legal binding contract and all that. Come now Dominique, I shouldn't have to tell you that.
Dominique D'Aubigne: What do you want from me?
And there it was, that breaking point. The point in which Dominique D'Aubigne had come to realize that her situation was hopeless. That she would have to abide by Hutton's rules in order to get what she wanted. It made his smirk grow just a little brighter as he leaned back in his leather chair.
Hutton Brown: I want you to beg.
His answer causes her eyes to bulge slightly, taken aback by the absurdity of his request. Dominique can barely mutter a response.
Dominique D'Aubigne: What?
Hutton Brown: You heard me. I want you to beg. Beg me to fire you. Get down on your knees and beg for me to end it. To end your, "torment".
There isn't a hint of sarcasm in his words; nothing but cold, serious intent filling his demand. She stares back at him in mock horror, almost unable to comprehend that he was truly serious. And yet, she seems to consider it despite everything. She looks down at the floor beneath her feet and swallows hard, but in the end, her ego and pride win out. As he'd expected all along.
Dominique D'Aubigne: And if I refuse?
Hutton Brown: Then you'll have to serve out the entirety of your two year contract doing as I see fit. Funny, padding your contract with funds made available through budget cuts doesn't seem like such a good idea now, does it? And to such a point where even I couldn't comfortably but out of it? Now that's just poor execution.
Dominique D'Aubigne: Why are you doing this to me?
Hutton Brown: Because I want you learn a lesson Dominique. Don't get me wrong, you're a good businesswoman. As greedy and shrewd as some of the best businessmen I've ever met. But whatever it is, that makes you think that just because you're a woman people won't believe you're corrupt, people won't think that you're as greedy and as shrewd as you are; I want to you realize that you're on the same playing field as everyone else. And if you have to suffer for two years to figure that out, well I guess that's just something I'm going to have to enjoy, isn't it?
For the first time since he'd met her, Dominique D'Aubigne is completely silent; unable to formulate a quick response. She just simply stares back at him with a blank stare, a sea of emotions rushing over her as he returns her gaze without a single care. There is no compassion in the stare of Hutton Brown, yet there is no hatred. He simply laces his fingers together upon his abdomen and stares a cold stare back at her, waiting.
Dominique D'Aubigne: You're sick.
He doesn't immediately answer her, letting the silence just hang out there between them. It's eerie, slightly unnerving; and yet, so amusing.
Hutton Brown: Thank you. Now, don't you have some food to be serving?
Dominique's eyes quiver just slightly and it pains Hutton just so to know that she would never allow herself to cry before him. Maybe right outside his door or in the bathroom, but never in his presence. As such, so forces herself to take a deep breath and stands up taller than before, shooting him a hateful glare before turning on her heel and walking calmly to the door. She refuses herself even a glance back at him before she closes the door as she exits. All that's left is silence. Sweet, sweet silence.
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Alexis Chavenete.
With only two matches under your belt, you understand nothing. And yet if you were to claim otherwise, I suppose that things would make much greater sense to me.
Alexis you seem to have been blessed with some talent for the wrestling industry, as is apparent from your previous matches. But do not allow yourself to be fooled, you're talent is something that can only push you so far in this industry. For in the end this industry, like all others, is based less upon the basis of its origin, in this case wrestling, and has become wrapped in politics. Who holds the most power and how they decide to utilize it. Look at yourself for instance. How did you, a young talented individual, get a contract with the WFWF; especially over the hundreds of other young equally or even more talented individuals out there? The answer is simple. Because your trainer, a man who does hold a small amount of power, vouched for you, utilized his power in your favor.
But before I continue, I feel the need to educate you first. Alexis, there are two types of competitors in this business who decided to train young prospects. The first type is the most genuine; competitors who truly care for this business at its origin, those who truly believe in the nature of the competition itself. My trainer, Lion Merteuil, is such a man. Now I will admit, Lion thinks first and foremost with his wallet. He believed that he could turn me into the star I am today, and profit off it; something I know he has certainly managed to do. And yet, I also know for a fact that he wouldn't have bothered to even reach out to me if he hadn't seen the raw talent I possessed in 2007. He knew that with a little guidance and a push in the right direction, I could succeed. To say that the birth of my career was a project of the devilish politics of this industry, well that's completely true. But alas, I digress.
The second type of trainer is unfortunately the most common, a competitor whose true motivation for training a student is their own self gain. Unfortunately for you Alexis, Phillip Schneider is one these men. The only true reason in which Phillip Schneider would waste his time training someone is if he knew he had much to gain in doing so. Or are you naive enough to believe that Phillip would simply train you because he acknowledges that you have some talent?
As I said Alexis, the politics of the wrestling industry slowly expose a person for what they truly are. Legitimate avid competitors, who put everything into their training with the belief that their talents will see them through to stardom, often call claim to the "glass ceiling" as their careers come to a close; their goals left unaccomplished as their time comes to an end. Many turn to those with power, forgoing their ambitions and faith in their own talent in exchange for the glory they so desire. Unsurprising, but unfortunate. My story alternates from theirs, but only in reverse, as the one with power came to me before making me what I am today. And having been molded into what will soon stand before you, I can recognize a man of deception when I see him. That, whether you believe me or not, is what Phillip Schneider is. What he truly gains from your instruction, I am certain of; though even you can not be so foolish as to believe that he is not using or at least does not plan to use you in the future towards some end.
Now I do not know what kind of a trainer Phillip Schneider is. I have my obvious doubts as to him being the kind of man to show you much compassion in your training, encouraging you throughout each step and rewarding your success with compliments. At the same time however, I do not believe his is a kind of trainer who demands perfection at the first attempt; belittling you if you fail to perform to his high expectations. Ultimately however, allow me to tell you something that I am certain Phillip Schneider has not and will not. You are not special.
You are not special because you won your first two matches, because you are undefeated. You are not special because you are a woman competing in what is usually a man's world, and defeating those very same men. You are not special because you are being trained by the WFWF World Heavyweight Champion. You are not special because you are having a match with me, the man who beat your tutor at his own game. You are not special at all. Not to the WFWF fans. Not to the WFWF Roster. Not to Xavier Pierce. Not to Phillip Schneider. And most certainly, not to me.
The fact of the matter is there is nothing special about you or this match, much to everyone's chagrin. Nothing is special about the fact that I am a man and you a woman. Nothing is special about the fact that I am a heavyweight and you, are not. Nothing is special about the fact that I have over one hundred matches to my name and you only two. And nothing is special about the fact that I am one of Phillip Schneider's great rivals and you his student.
Because to me you are just another competitor, just another pretty woman. And while you are not special; to be far, you may be some day. You may succeed effortlessly and become the next great star of this era. Or you may fall from the defeat I have no choice but to hand you, and fade into oblivion like others do when their five minutes has ended. That choice is ultimately yours, and I wish you luck at this early phase of your career. But know, right now, when you enter the ring with me, you are not special. You are simply...
Another Opponent.[/i][/color][/center]
