Post by INFINITE PRO. on Aug 31, 2022 1:18:02 GMT
Real Violence
VS The Dead End Express | Adrenaline VII
The moment I won the Infinite Pro Heavyweight Championship, it became a World Championship.
I think that speaks volumes about the prestige and value that I immediately brought to this title the moment I won it. At Night of Champions, I made the former most dominant person around here in Ana Somnia tap out. In only three matches in Infinite Pro, I've gone from simply being a guest to being at the top of the mountain.
And usually? I would have been celebrating, I would have popped a bottle of champagne and enjoyed myself during my time off. But the ending at Night of Champions didn't go the way I would have preferred. Instead of raising my championship high in victory, I found myself getting jumped by a collective of inbred, rancid-smelling hicks that seem to fancy themselves as the “roughest men that's stepped into this damn company”.
The Dead End Express. Hank, Jack, and Clancy.
What a fucking pathetic sight.
You know, I'm not actually that bothered by the attack. You said you would do it and you did it, I can't even be upset at that, no, what bothers me is the group of you pretending that you're the most dangerous, the most feared group of individuals around.
Sure, it's easy to claim that you're dangerous until you decide to attack two people after they're already weak from the fight they had earlier. Sure, it's easy to claim that you're the best tag team in this promotion until that gauntlet match that you won was only because of multiple interferences. It's easy to paint a narrative that you're some “badasses” when in reality, not a single one of you has earned a damn thing.
If anything, your worthless father who was nothing but an out-of-shape, talentless bitch who's coasted off on shock value instead of being a good wrestler has done most of the work for you wastes of air. You should be thanking him for saving and covering for you at just about every turn, that's the only thing he's good at.
The two of you, Hank and Jack, aren't the sons of some feared legend. You're far from real wrestlers, a true fighter wouldn't need their daddy to step in whenever things aren't going their way.
You two? Are nothing but failures who've been wrestling since 2010 and have not a single accomplishment to show for it. A couple of shitstains who think that they are owed something just because of their irrelevant family's name. Frauds who belong as working hands on some farm somewhere in the Bible Belt, not in the squared circle.
The fact that I even have to share a ring with these two, whose groupie-trash mother should've swallowed, felt insulting at first. I kept wondering to myself why instead of outright dealing with you, Jason Long decided to make this match.
Then I realized: this is his way of punishing you.
The Dead End Express may be used to getting what they want by violence and doing whatever the hell they want, but you targeted the wrong two people.
You're probably hoping that Somnia and I don't get along well enough at the upcoming Adrenaline, but despite our differences? She earned my respect at Night of Champions. Even I'll admit that despite still winning, I had underestimated her. She until then had been undefeated, running through everyone in that tournament to become the inaugural champion. She pushed me to my limit- and who knows what she'll further accomplish. We're far from friends, but I will acknowledge her as the killing machine that she is.
And as for me? I can already guess what you think of me. Just a 5'9”, scrawny “pretty twink” from urban California. You more than likely don't see me as a real threat, and that's fine. I want you to underestimate. I want to see the look of surprise on your hideous fucking faces when I start tearing you apart surgically, like I did Mehrunes Smith. Like I've done everyone in my way in NLW's G1 so far to become Southern States Champion. I am one of the very best, not in just this company, but in the entirety of the Network.
As for you two? Jack couldn't even beat PRICE, the same man who he referred to as a washed, broken down veteran. The same man he kept saying had nothing left in the tank. If you couldn't accomplish that…
Then what the hell makes you think you can beat two of the best pro wrestlers in their primes?
Somnia and I are now on the same page, a shared sense of anger and we're just waiting to release it at Adrenaline. We beat each other close to death in our title match, willing to kill each other if it came down to it- And you morons have made the worst mistake of giving us a common enemy: YOU.
At Adrenaline, we're going to make you regret even showing up. Because I'm not just going to beat, you- No, I'm going to mangle you, dislocate shoulders, fracture and break bones. It's going to get to a point where they might have to find someone else to take poor Hank's place in the next title match. And I dare your old man or Clancy to get involved, just to give me a reason to cripple that unremarkable third son and withering waste of air that belongs in a retirement home.
You clowns think you're violent? Give me a fucking break.
We'll show you real violence.
I think that speaks volumes about the prestige and value that I immediately brought to this title the moment I won it. At Night of Champions, I made the former most dominant person around here in Ana Somnia tap out. In only three matches in Infinite Pro, I've gone from simply being a guest to being at the top of the mountain.
And usually? I would have been celebrating, I would have popped a bottle of champagne and enjoyed myself during my time off. But the ending at Night of Champions didn't go the way I would have preferred. Instead of raising my championship high in victory, I found myself getting jumped by a collective of inbred, rancid-smelling hicks that seem to fancy themselves as the “roughest men that's stepped into this damn company”.
The Dead End Express. Hank, Jack, and Clancy.
What a fucking pathetic sight.
You know, I'm not actually that bothered by the attack. You said you would do it and you did it, I can't even be upset at that, no, what bothers me is the group of you pretending that you're the most dangerous, the most feared group of individuals around.
Sure, it's easy to claim that you're dangerous until you decide to attack two people after they're already weak from the fight they had earlier. Sure, it's easy to claim that you're the best tag team in this promotion until that gauntlet match that you won was only because of multiple interferences. It's easy to paint a narrative that you're some “badasses” when in reality, not a single one of you has earned a damn thing.
If anything, your worthless father who was nothing but an out-of-shape, talentless bitch who's coasted off on shock value instead of being a good wrestler has done most of the work for you wastes of air. You should be thanking him for saving and covering for you at just about every turn, that's the only thing he's good at.
The two of you, Hank and Jack, aren't the sons of some feared legend. You're far from real wrestlers, a true fighter wouldn't need their daddy to step in whenever things aren't going their way.
You two? Are nothing but failures who've been wrestling since 2010 and have not a single accomplishment to show for it. A couple of shitstains who think that they are owed something just because of their irrelevant family's name. Frauds who belong as working hands on some farm somewhere in the Bible Belt, not in the squared circle.
The fact that I even have to share a ring with these two, whose groupie-trash mother should've swallowed, felt insulting at first. I kept wondering to myself why instead of outright dealing with you, Jason Long decided to make this match.
Then I realized: this is his way of punishing you.
The Dead End Express may be used to getting what they want by violence and doing whatever the hell they want, but you targeted the wrong two people.
You're probably hoping that Somnia and I don't get along well enough at the upcoming Adrenaline, but despite our differences? She earned my respect at Night of Champions. Even I'll admit that despite still winning, I had underestimated her. She until then had been undefeated, running through everyone in that tournament to become the inaugural champion. She pushed me to my limit- and who knows what she'll further accomplish. We're far from friends, but I will acknowledge her as the killing machine that she is.
And as for me? I can already guess what you think of me. Just a 5'9”, scrawny “pretty twink” from urban California. You more than likely don't see me as a real threat, and that's fine. I want you to underestimate. I want to see the look of surprise on your hideous fucking faces when I start tearing you apart surgically, like I did Mehrunes Smith. Like I've done everyone in my way in NLW's G1 so far to become Southern States Champion. I am one of the very best, not in just this company, but in the entirety of the Network.
As for you two? Jack couldn't even beat PRICE, the same man who he referred to as a washed, broken down veteran. The same man he kept saying had nothing left in the tank. If you couldn't accomplish that…
Then what the hell makes you think you can beat two of the best pro wrestlers in their primes?
Somnia and I are now on the same page, a shared sense of anger and we're just waiting to release it at Adrenaline. We beat each other close to death in our title match, willing to kill each other if it came down to it- And you morons have made the worst mistake of giving us a common enemy: YOU.
At Adrenaline, we're going to make you regret even showing up. Because I'm not just going to beat, you- No, I'm going to mangle you, dislocate shoulders, fracture and break bones. It's going to get to a point where they might have to find someone else to take poor Hank's place in the next title match. And I dare your old man or Clancy to get involved, just to give me a reason to cripple that unremarkable third son and withering waste of air that belongs in a retirement home.
You clowns think you're violent? Give me a fucking break.
We'll show you real violence.