Post by TOUCHDOWN on Jun 9, 2023 17:29:09 GMT
Three
Two...
SAVE ME!
An azure wave laps gently against the camera, tinged with sprinklings of orange from the sun above. We begin pulling back, revealing further and further artificial layers of the serenity. The water is contained in a large outdoor pool - tiled a vibrant bubblegum pink - nestled in an expansive freshly cut lawn with the foliage dyed the perfect shade of green.
A Garden of Eden for someone of significant wealth, and little taste.
In emphasis of that point, Alastor Touchdown lazes in the pool, held aloft by a pink floatie and soaking in the sun with his white shorts and open green floral shirt. He adjusts the shades on his face and takes a sip from the beverage in his hand, using the straw to clink around the ice within.
"AL! THIS PLACE IS TITS!" Tuna Meltzer's shrill call rings throughout the garden as we pan to the poolside patio where he roasts a burger on a grill with too many dials. Even JGR - sat on a sun lounger and reading a substantially thick book - nods in acknowledgement. Touchdown raises his glass to them.
"Yes, Tuna. It is." The obnoxiously long suck of a straw rings from the pool as we pan back to Touchdown.
"Pierce, I had some choice words for you after Discovery," breaking his words with the familiar sound of his drink being syphoned through the straw, until only the clinking of ice in an empty glass remains. "but to be honest, I didn't think we'd be seeing each other again so soon."
"You might be thinking to yourself that I barged into Long's office and DEMANDED to cash in my rematch clause; but as you could've guessed from my press conference, I was planning to move onto bigger things." The glass slips lazily from his hand, disturbing the water as it splashes in. "No. Jason Long is trying to either quarantine me by having me fixate on the title or to, feebly, try and break my spirit by hoping you get another one over on me. This shot is not an opportunity, it's a punishment. Already, Nate Pierce, that's what you've devalued the title into."
"A punishment."
"Pierce, I had some choice words for you after Discovery," breaking his words with the familiar sound of his drink being syphoned through the straw, until only the clinking of ice in an empty glass remains. "but to be honest, I didn't think we'd be seeing each other again so soon."
"You might be thinking to yourself that I barged into Long's office and DEMANDED to cash in my rematch clause; but as you could've guessed from my press conference, I was planning to move onto bigger things." The glass slips lazily from his hand, disturbing the water as it splashes in. "No. Jason Long is trying to either quarantine me by having me fixate on the title or to, feebly, try and break my spirit by hoping you get another one over on me. This shot is not an opportunity, it's a punishment. Already, Nate Pierce, that's what you've devalued the title into."
"A punishment."
We fade out, the sound of Touchdown's straw still permeating throughout.
"But, luckily for both of us, that's not an issue for me."
We crossfade into the Manor that owns the estate outside, judging by the sheer volume of pink decor. We follow Team Touchdown as they walk down the halls, flanked either side by an unfriendly looking Butler.
"Before, I wanted to raise the National Openweight Championship up, raise this company and its roster up. Now, I did those things, naturally. But they were unappreciated and truthfully? Unfulfilling. I was bearing a cross I didn't believe in and when I lost to you, I was approaching our match with a thought process I didn't believe in either." An over-exaggerated shake of the head, as if genuinely apologetic towards Pierce.
"I wanted to stomp you out. Make you the personification of all of my would-be challengers in IPW by beating you and then most insultingly of all; forgetting about you. To prove you, the arrogant cunt masquerading as a man of the people, was nothing more than a phoney. Now, don't get it twisted, you are. But that's not why I really wanted to beat you. Why I beat your buddy Spike and so many others."
Touchdown deftly grabs a flower from one of several vases as they walk the halls. A very pink, very artificial rose.
"It's because I wanna take what's yours. I wanna take something you have put so much care into and tear it apart, piece by piece. Take something you yourself wanted to "rid of my filth" and infect it with the poison of me, forever. Not for any grand plans or noble delusions. But because I just hate old arrogant fucks like you, and I wanna piss you off before I humiliate you. Because I'm not a builder or a visionary; I'm an anarchist. A renegade. A destroyer."
A disdain filled smirk.
"Then, for good measure, I'll forget about you too."
The pink decor begins to taper off at this point in the Manor, giving way to an old oak finish with far more subtle but tasteful furnishings and punctuated by a large wooden door to the study. If the ladders and paint cans around are any indication, if is not going to stay this way for very long.
Team Touchdown sits on two chairs outside of the door, like children awaiting the principle. Touchdown meanwhile, stands. Gazing out from the window towards the estate.
"Changing mindset psychologically is one thing, Pierce. But it's changing strategies that's the part that should concern you."
He twirls the pink rose between his fingers, not looking at the camera as he speaks.
"You have two things going for you that I will not try downplay," Touchdown extends two fingers "One. You are pretty goddamn strong. Even Riley can attest to that after the spear you gave him."
A low growl from JGR and the scarred knuckles from training would indicate that The Fixer remembers very well.
"And the second, is your never say die attitude. Despite the overwhelming odds and skill disparity stacked against you, you held firm and I commend you for that. These two things are things I cannot take away from you by making - accurate - attacks on your character, nor can I just try to stomp you out with force. But in my mental blindness, I realised that's not the be all and end all."
Touchdown faces the camera, eyes narrowed.
"I'm perfectly happy with whittling you down and watching you keel over from exhaustion. Making you overreach yourself to catch up to the quickest man in IPW. Making all of that strength be your greatest enemy as I out-wrestle you to the mat. I can do all these things, Nate, because they have always been at my disposal. You however rely on a strategy that, while effective, fundamentally cannot change."
Touchdown inhales the rose. Predictably, it smells like nothing at all.
"The reason for that's twofold." Touchdown again extends two fingers. "One. It's worked for you so far and if there's one thing you and Chaos Theory have in common, you're creatures of habit. Two. You and your cronies have consistently underestimated me at every turn and with some short lived success in your brain, that's unlikely to change. Further, you're suffering from the same condition I was, worse I reckon." He scoffs. "You, who martyred yourself by framing me as an evil villain and you, the hero, cheered on by his work and drinking buddies. But with all that forward momentum, what have you done since? I held off, wanted to see what you were made of, wanted to see if you still had that fire; but since Discovery? Nothing. Silence. You're blinder and more deluded than I ever was. Not that you'll figure that out, until you're looking at the lights with your reign ended before it can begin. Just like Cross Recoba before you."
"Oh, dammit." He looks down at his hand, revealing three fingers extended. "Guess it was threefold."
"Oh, dammit." He looks down at his hand, revealing three fingers extended. "Guess it was threefold."
Footsteps echo on the marbled flooring, a group approaching. Touchdown ignores this.
"But I know nothing I've said will Pierce that delusion. So I'll simplify things with a visual demonstration. By leveraging the assets I have," He smiles at the memory, a line said to Cross almost a year prior. "and you don't..."
The sound of a throat clearing. The camera pans over to one of the Butlers, heralding a blonde haired woman in pink athletic gear. "Miss Havertz is now available."
The sound of a throat clearing. The camera pans over to one of the Butlers, heralding a blonde haired woman in pink athletic gear. "Miss Havertz is now available."
Touchdown saunters over, flanked by his own group, with a smile and a nod. Handing Bea the pink rose he'd pilfered earlier. He turns back to the camera.
"Enjoy holding that belt, Nate. It’s the last time anyone’ll see it in that condition again.”
