Post by TOUCHDOWN on May 16, 2023 22:31:14 GMT
Save Us Jamrocker
THREE
TWO
ONE
We open on the second circle of Hell.
Marked by smoke, lights and outdated EDM that thumps through the speakers - nestled on the outskirts of Silicon Valley. Through the club, we weave past scantily clad temptresses, past the Fixer with the physique and expression of granite, past the rat-faced Meltzer drunkenly shuffling on his seat - leering at any woman that enters his peripheral.
Our journey concludes at a booth in the corner, where the sound system falters its rhythm into a muted drone that washes out the conversations around us. In the booth sits a man in a leather jacket, fawned over by a woman with dark hair and snowy skin.
“I wanna introduce you all to the most important thing in my life.”
Alastor Touchdown doesn’t look at the camera as he speaks, instead maintaining eye contact with the woman on his lap who giggles and strokes his chest in response. She is then shoved aside by Touchdown as he reaches beneath the seating, retrieving a band of gold that reflects every lurid light in the strip club.
“The IPW Openweight Championship.”
The stripper stumbles to her feet, flashing Touchdown an expression of disgust that could strip paint before storming off. The Champion does not seem to care. His gaze focused on the camera.
"But, you know that better than anyone, don't you, Nate?"
"Because you've had a front row seat for almost every single one of my finest hours. I built a ladder to the top off of Chaos Theory's bones and I’m not done climbin’. You, more than anybody else in IPW, should know exactly the depths I can and will go to to keep and take what is mine. You, more than anybody else, know how viciously and vindictive I will be in order to climb further than the spot I’ve already carved out with my own drive and intelligence. You, more than anybody else in IPW, know this. Because the only other two people who knew it even more, turned tail and ran. So here’s to you, Chaos Theory."
"Because you've had a front row seat for almost every single one of my finest hours. I built a ladder to the top off of Chaos Theory's bones and I’m not done climbin’. You, more than anybody else in IPW, should know exactly the depths I can and will go to to keep and take what is mine. You, more than anybody else, know how viciously and vindictive I will be in order to climb further than the spot I’ve already carved out with my own drive and intelligence. You, more than anybody else in IPW, know this. Because the only other two people who knew it even more, turned tail and ran. So here’s to you, Chaos Theory."
Touchdown grabs a glass from the table and salutes the camera, downing the rest of the drink. A long exhale of satisfaction escaping his lips.
"Pierce, you’ve got the mandated delusion of Chaos Theory that age and previous success brings wisdom. But, unlike Brad Kane’s Brother and The Messiah of Alimony, I don’t mind it as much coming from you. Primarily because you’ve shown you can still back it up in an IPW ring, but equally because it’s just so noble to see a man of honour in the wrestling business.”
Gesturing with the glass, almost accusatorially.
“Noble Nate Pierce. With his nine-to-five ‘working class hero’ persona and now the weight of his two friends' collective pride and egos on his back. Nate, if there’s one thing you’ve proven beyond a shadow of a doubt, it’s that you’re a big tough guy.”
“You think that’s enough?”
“You think that’s enough?”
The question lingers. Sidechained into the music and atmosphere of the strip club and sucking away all sound around it.
“It wasn’t enough for Spike, it certainly wouldn’t have been enough for PRICE, and both those guys had simple, clear directives in mind to keep 'em focused. With pressure as high as you’ve given yourself, against an opponent like me- well, hell… I’m like a kid in a candy store for all the mental gaps I can exploit.”
“Y-”
“Y-”
A thud. The body of one Tuna Meltzer, falling from his chair and into a drunk, mumbling heap. Touchdown vacantly gestures towards JGR with his head, The Fixer marching over and picking up Meltzer like he weighed nothing at all. The trio make their exit.
Night.
The empty streets of California’s underbelly flourish with a sickly orange hue from the street lights. Under the lights are three men, a large mercenary with a drunken sycophant slung over his shoulder like a dead deer, led by a rogue with his mind shifting a mile a second.
“Nate, people have this perception that I’m some deluded fool, and that’ll probably never fully change no matter how many successes I claim. But the reality is I’m the only sane person here. I know what you are and what I am.”
“And I got no problems admitting when someone’s got an edge over me. You can hit your “Deep Sea Plunge”. You can lift me up for that “Anchors Away” suplex and yeah, you can beat me. But you don’t get to that point by merely wanting it bad enough, by wanting to hurt me bad enough, that’s not how the world works. By your own admission, all your stock is tied up into your strength. Trouble is, I’m no Jack Haggard. You’ve gotta keep up with me. You’ve gotta out-wrestle me. You’ve gotta outhink me. You’ve gotta outadapt me.”
“You’ve gotta WEATHER THE STORM that is ALASTOR TOUCHDOWN and you KNOW IT!”
“And I got no problems admitting when someone’s got an edge over me. You can hit your “Deep Sea Plunge”. You can lift me up for that “Anchors Away” suplex and yeah, you can beat me. But you don’t get to that point by merely wanting it bad enough, by wanting to hurt me bad enough, that’s not how the world works. By your own admission, all your stock is tied up into your strength. Trouble is, I’m no Jack Haggard. You’ve gotta keep up with me. You’ve gotta out-wrestle me. You’ve gotta outhink me. You’ve gotta outadapt me.”
“You’ve gotta WEATHER THE STORM that is ALASTOR TOUCHDOWN and you KNOW IT!”
His voice rises. His pace quickens. The shadows of his Team Touchdown compatriots begin fading behind the orange light as Touchdown’s focus remains on us.
“So-called legends, former champions, starving prospects, monsters, demons, devils and gods have all claimed to do so. To be the ones that send me to reality. But again, I already know how the world works.”
“But hey, Nate, those are only just facts. A guy who’s all heart like you probably wants to talk intangibles, right?”
“I’ve beaten, harassed and humiliated your friends. I have held the Openweight Championship in my grasp since July of twenty-two and you want it. That’s all the motivation you need. Or care to need anyway. But, for me?”
“But hey, Nate, those are only just facts. A guy who’s all heart like you probably wants to talk intangibles, right?”
“I’ve beaten, harassed and humiliated your friends. I have held the Openweight Championship in my grasp since July of twenty-two and you want it. That’s all the motivation you need. Or care to need anyway. But, for me?”
Pausing. Inhaling. Summer is beginning. He can feel the heat in his blood.
“The desire to bury the last remnant of a group that epitomises everything I hate in wrestling. The desire to begin my ascension to the top in earnest. The desire to show up some people who’ve crawled outta the gutter to show their face in my company again. The DESIRE to be the Locker Room Leader that I am and begin saving the people of IPW from desiring only a high level of mediocrity while people like you pass ‘em by.”
“Fact is? You see this title as a stepping stone. A “rung below the ladder” of the World Championship. In reality it, and I, are the premiere attractions of this company! It shouldn’t be MYOJIN and Cross Recoba in the main event, it should be ME! That’s why at Discovery, I’m gonna pull The Whaler down into the depths like he’s Ahab himself and let him be a cautionary tale to anybody else with a little bit of notoriety that wants to try and put ‘emselves on the map at MY expense!”
“Fact is? You see this title as a stepping stone. A “rung below the ladder” of the World Championship. In reality it, and I, are the premiere attractions of this company! It shouldn’t be MYOJIN and Cross Recoba in the main event, it should be ME! That’s why at Discovery, I’m gonna pull The Whaler down into the depths like he’s Ahab himself and let him be a cautionary tale to anybody else with a little bit of notoriety that wants to try and put ‘emselves on the map at MY expense!”
The Openweight Championship is held up to the side by its strap. Appearing in frame like a light piercing through the orange decay of the empty street in California.
“Because this Championship is not a rung below, it is what has inspired the most consistently strong competition in this company and it’s MINE! This belt is MINE! This season is MINE! This company is MINE!
ALL YOU LOST HOPEFULS IN IPW AND THE GREATER WRESTLING INDUSTRY! I AM YOUR LOCKER ROOM LEADER!
AND YOU!
ARE!
MINE!”
ALL YOU LOST HOPEFULS IN IPW AND THE GREATER WRESTLING INDUSTRY! I AM YOUR LOCKER ROOM LEADER!
AND YOU!
ARE!
MINE!”
Alastor Touchdown stops, letting his arms drop to his side and holding his head high. Embracing the feeling of being alone outside in the dead of night, that feeling as if everyone in the world is doing something without you.
“‘Cause I know how the world works, and I know how to make it work to my advantage. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have this.”
One more brief look at the Championship, trading orange for gold. Touchdown stares for a moment, before looking back towards the camera for one final profound statement.
“Nate Pierce. Suck my dick."
Learn From The Leader...
...Discover Your Limits
