Post by TOUCHDOWN on Sept 16, 2022 22:43:04 GMT
Three
Two…
CROWNLESS KING!
“Ohhh yeah, that’s the stuff.”
“Lil lower actually. Lower. Hoooo boy…”
“Make sure to use a lot of force, The Champ has an exceedingly muscular back!”
“Lay off her, Tunez, she’s doin’ good. I feel like a million dollars.”
“Well focus, Mr. Million Dollars!”
“You’re in a good space mentally and physically; but we gotta make sure you stay there, Daddy-O.”
“Right, right. Just, *phew*, tee me up.”
“RUN DOWN THE OPPS!”
“Johnny Five IQ. The dark horse. The least emotional ties to this match but possibly the most pressure. As a guy, like myself, who’s less established and forced to listen to the other three read their Wikipedia pages out loud every promo, he’s also the only man in this match I respect. Well, comparatively speakin’.”
“Also like myself, Johnny may've developed an edge. Unlike me, I always had it, didn’t need a life coach to try an’ develop it. I’ve had time and success to show that the New Alastor Touchdown is a force to be reckoned with, Johnny’s had one win since his shift. No matter what version of Johnny Five he may be, no matter how he’ll handle the pressure of definitively making his mark on IPW, a lot of his chances are based on luck.”
“But I make my own luck.”
Cooldown shifts his pointer over to El Rey, tapping it against Rey’s artificially enlarged forehead.
“Ahhh, Rey-Rey! In spite of myself, I wanna like you! Maybe it’s a fellow young prick thing.”
“I listened to what ya had to say, projecting on me that I feel slighted by bein’ overlooked. If I do, at least I’ve got the Openweight Championship to dry my tears with. Rey, the reason I can’t fully like ya, is self-awareness. You’re not lackin’ for talent, even I won’t deny that. But you're as talented as you are neurotic. Drowning in self-pity and insecurity, you’ll admit to being everything you accuse me of. Y’wanna claim I hate being treated like a joke, but then start crying and complainin’ about wanting respect. I’m not facing the El Rey who won the X*Crown and wore his arrogance proudly. I’m facing a kid who, when things don’t go his way, is gonna curl up and crumble and shrink. Zoran can't cure that.”
“When you run on back to GUNS, it’s not gonna be with my Openweight title, it’s gonna be with your tail between your legs.”
Jimi, getting into the groove of his friend’s verbal marksmanship, twirls the pointer in his fingers before slamming it against the image of Spike Kane.
“Brad Kane’s Brother!”
“Spike, I think you an’ me are trapped in a deadlock. One where we’re juuuust off the cusp of understanding, but can’t quite do it. See, you’ve got it in your head that the problem was you underestimating me. So now that you view Moi as more of a threat, things’ll be different. Even drawing parallels with your own career to mine. Now, that may be flatterin’ to someone else, but not me. The deadlock is this, you will come at me with your chest puffed out and all your catchphrases, you will lose to me, you’ll climb your way back up to facing me… and so on.”
“I’m not downplaying your brutality with or without a weapon, Spike, I’ve known the danger of pissing you off since the first time I’ve done it. Your problem's not that you underestimated me, your problem is that I accurately estimate you.”
“That’s why I keep beatin' you.”
Cooldown tosses the pointer, clears his throat and merely points a finger against Cross’ portrait.
“Cross, you’re right. I do have an inflated sense of self-worth. But, really, you only think that 'cause of the deserved lack of respect I show you. We’re two, kinda, similar guys tossin' the same accusation at each other. The fundamental difference bein' my arrogance is backed up by current success. You, just have your word and shit that happened several closed feds ago.”
“Every boast you’ve uttered, it’s the whimpers of a man who knows he’s got nothin'. I've no fear of the enemies I have in this match, I’ve PROVEN to be fast enough mentally and physically to adapt, if not outright weaponize it. Such as when I had Spike Kane knock you on your ass. But you oughta be thankin’ him for that. You were down and about to be laid out by the Six-Star Frogsplash anyway; Spike gave you a few more seconds as Champ.”
“Your ego, your failures, I don’t bring ‘em up as an insult or even to get a rise outta you, though that clearly works. I do it, because I’m gettin’ tired of you pathetically clinging on to this collected persona of a “legend”. The personification of everything Jimi and I loathe.”
“So that’s why when you try an’ act like Lex Luthor and boast about your mental acumen. I’m genuinely praying you’re right. ‘Cause the last thing IPW’s gonna wanna hear, is yet another Cross Recoba excuse.”
An alarm rings, the Masseuse exits the room.
“Lot’s been said. So I wanna end it with one final message to my opponents, to Jason Long. To IPW:”
“You’re welcome.”
Cooldown enters the frame, arms crossed and smirk wide.
“For forcing people to step up their game. For not allowing people to get by on mediocrity solely 'cause they’ve won titles before. For making IPW worth ANYthing at all. And, for the rising talent, former champions and XHF legends at Royal Crown?”
“Enjoy the rub, it’s your fifteen minutes.”
No Gods...
...No Crowns
