Post by bad guy™ on Jan 18, 2014 21:50:07 GMT -5
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It is amazing to have someone so close to you that they are willing to put up with the worst of you. I mean…I am one of the lucky few in this company, this business, who has lived a rather full life when it comes to hitting all of the milestones society places…or perhaps a better word is imposed, upon us as ‘normal.’ Then again, I am 12-Point buck in a land filled with Fawns. I have had the luxury of living such a full life, because I have lived longer than anyone in this company. Well…so far.
But having someone in your corner…you would be surprised what that means to someone who has never really had that all too much.
Ace Bennett is someone that I can truly trust with just about anything. I always looked at him with a sense of pride. Always. Now…why did I do so? Well, a variety of reasons. Shocker, right? I brought the kid into the company. Remember a while back, I was talking about how much I hated being the one responsible for dragging him into this disastrous situation of the WFWF? Sure. I hated being the one who brought him in, but I will be damned if I deny the pride he bestowed upon me for the chutzpa the kid showed here in the WFWF.
I hated what happened to him there at the end of his first run, when Ashy pulled the rug out from under the group, taking Bennett out of the equation. But it was two on one at that point, and while I wanted revenge, I had to go about it in a much smarter way. One thing that Ace will never really be able to forgive me for was not defending him that day in the locker room when O’Deeves and Ashy attacked him. I never joined in the beating, as was what I was supposed to do, but I did not step in until it was too late. Bennett was down for the count, and there was nothing I could do at that point.
It flashed before my eyes so quick, the more I think about it…I really could not have done much anyways. I was stone, frozen. What had happened was above my comprehension in the heat of the moment, and Ace Bennett was taken out as a result. I know Ace says he does not blame me…but I know he does. So, what did I have to do to get revenge? The list is exhaustive.
I knew something had to be done, so I took it upon myself to grow even closer to Ashy and O’Deeves. I felt so dirty for doing so. All I wanted to do was break their necks, and here I was, inviting them into my home, furthering along Ashys charade just so that I could gain enough insight and ammo to shoot them down when the opportunity presented itself. Not only was I playing along, albeit for a good cause, I was going against everything I believed. I was someone who was brought up to be true to oneself. To make your intentions known. Now, I know in wrestling you are kind of forced to play politics and use mind games to gain an advantage as much as you are forced to grow in size and speed…and believe me…I had done so in the past. But this was the first time a ‘master plan’ was devised.
In the past I had come up with ways to get what I wanted. But those ways were normally clear cut, precise. Like a surgeon, I knew where my next mark was going to be. I knew when. I knew how. No room for error. I wanted a title match? Play to the ego of whoever was in charge. I wanted revenge for a loss, make myself seem bigger than life. But there was always a method to my madness. It was almost like a script…and I played my role most Oscar worthy. But now…I had some wiggle room. I had to make O’Deeves and Ashton pay for their transgressions, and…well…that was the birth of one Shawn Malakai.
Did not see that plot twist comin’ did ya Squidward?
For The High Horror, this was a situation he would have gone out and used brute force to get what he wanted. He would have put up a fight in that locker room for Bennett. He would have locked O’Deeves in a locker like a childhood bully and taken Ashton for a Norman Bates like shower in the back. Blood everywhere. Yeah…a little dramatic with a touch of old movie buff…that is about the route he would have taken.
But Shawn Malakai wanted something just a little bit different. He knew what Horror wanted, and while he reveled at the idea of stabbing Ashton repeatedly…just for sh*ts and giggles, there was so much more that could be done! Why put them out of their misery so early?! There was much more work! Why give them an easy out when you can make them suffer for what they did. This was the mindset of Shawn Malakai.
…and I did just that.
I played their game. I sang their song; danced their dance. I started with Jon O’Deeves. I gaslit that mother*cker all of the way to the top. Well…kind of. I threw myself under the bus early in the National Championship Rebirthing tournament, allowing David Williams and Jon O’Deeves make it to the finals. I had fenangled myself a special referee shirt for the title match, and as a result, I was able to get the outcome I wanted. I made sure O’Deeves won. But what I did next, almost sinister. The kid was not ready to be out on his own. I knew that, everyone knew that. I gave him a big head…and I abandoned him.
I left him to fend for himself.
He was mauled alive.
His first battle for the title without me, he was ripped to pieces by Joe Bishop. The first part of my plan was a success. I built O’Deeves all of the way up just to watch him fall all of the way down, in so many pieces that all of the kings horses and all of the kings men saw the shape I left Jon in and said ‘f*ck it’ and walked away.
And now, without his little foot soldier, Ashton was left the most vulnerable I had ever seen. Perfect.
Ashton was a hell of a fighter, I would never say otherwise. He had a mighty successful run as tag team champion with one of the greatest to ever step foot in a WFWF ring, Johnny Michaels. He knew how to defend himself and win matches; but he thought me nothing more than his lackey. His hired muscle. However, I knew to not underestimate him…which was all he was doing to me. So I had taken O’Deeves out…so what? The kid ultimately could have been taken out by f*cking Mason Dixon…which should tell you his skill level. Well…Bennett? Gone. O’Deeves? Gone. Me? Well…he knew I was coming for him. O’Deeves, while shyte, would have been a better line of defense than what he had, which was now nil.
I made him realize that his world was coming down on him. I could have made it so easy. Corner him, take him out. Quick. Clean. Efficient. But…I just…I just could not do it. I had to make him suffer. I made sure that Ashton realized there was nothing left for him. He had no where to run, no where to hide. He was all alone, like he had left me. And when I entered that ring against Ashy at SuperBrawl V…I decimated that piece of sh*t. I had made him pay for his sins, and being the merciful soldier I am, I realized he had been put through just enough, and I took Ol’ Yeller back behind the barn and shot his brains out. The time had come.
Ace, brother…the love I have for you runs deeper throughout my being than what most would realize. What you would realize. I never sat down and told you this…because as I write I realize how sadistic I sound here, and it surely would have sounded worse face to face. At least here I have the veil of the interwebs to protect me from immediate facial judgment. But realize…I did defend you, brother. It just…took a while.
But all of this talk of a master plan has caused me to realize, I am no longer alone as a master. For the first time ever, I finally have someone in the company who is willing to go tit for tat with me, trying to play mind games. I can respect a good challenge, and it looks like Solomon Crow is going to try his damndest to give me the fight of my life.
Here is the thing, kid.
I do not care anymore.
I am making it official for the world right here, right now. Super Brawl VII will be my final match in professional wrestling. I have overstayed my welcome, and my body is about ready to pay the ultimate price for the life I chose. But…funny thing about that, Crow. You have this mindset that I am desperate. You think that I am weak. You think that I am easy prey to your mental tricks. You come to me a few years ago…maybe.
I had a conversation with Ace a few days ago. Kid swung by my place, we ate, had fun…just hung out. He came to ask me a favor, of which I will reveal at Revolution. But here is an excerpt from our conversation that you, Crow, might find a teeny bit interesting.
Ring. Ring. Yes...that is my attempt at simulating a telephone ringing. Deal with it.
"Jesus," I said.
"You gonna answer that?" asked Ace.
"No, Ace. This is the seventh call I have gotten from this person. I have no idea the number, and they refuse to leave a message. The calls are getting more frequent though."
"Gimme. Maybe I will recognize the area code."
Begrudgingly, I handed the phone over to Bennett, hoping the veil of secrecy could somehow be lifted from my cellular device. He gave me a stone cold look, his eyes almost deadened.
"Crow."
"Oh. Ok."
I took the phone back from Ace, flipping it around in my hands a few times, and then I smiled, sliding it into my glass of Coke.
"There. Problem solved."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. CANDY CRUSH SAGA."
"Grow up, Ace."
Crow has bombarded my phone for the last week, clearly trying to contact me about our match this week. I trashed my phone to get out of talking to him. Wooooomp. Normally, I am someone who would welcome some good old strategy talk. You know, I like winning…which is something I have not done a ton of lately. But I am not in the frame of mind to play any kind of games with you, kid. I apologize if my dying is getting in the way of your wanting to control the entire roster like some kind of master of puppets. #Firstworldproblems
Perhaps this may be my greatest mind game though. I normally allow myself to get so wrapped up in all of the drama surrounding…whatever I am involved in. But now, I have decided to just give up caring. I am taking an entirely new approach…and so far I have things going my way. I have a WFWF Championship match in a few weeks, I am on good terms with people whom I have been desperate to please for a long time now, and most important…I will be dying soon. Thank GOD for that. But Crow…by all means…you want to try to play mind games, go for it, kid. I am going to play one of my own…and that means not playing at all. And if you have a psychotic break because of it…well…yay. Added bonus.
Joe Bishop…I hear the rumors that you are in cahoots with Mr. Crow. I want this to be a lesson to you, kid. You try to play this same game with me, you will lose. You join up with him, I may not care…but I will defend myself, violently if I must. You will suffer the same fate as Crow if you try to cross me, mother*cker. So fight me as you would, but if you try anything funny…my God you are going to regret it.
And Yukio? Run you stupid old bastard. Just run. You want NO part in this. Stay away from Bishop. Stay away from Crow. You insist on getting involved, you had better be helping me. If not, I make no promises that you will walk out of this match in a better shape than Bishop, Crow, The Nest…any of it.
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