March 22, 2018, 11:42:28 AM

Author Topic: Throwing you right back off the horse  (Read 146 times)

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Offline Arizona's Most Wanted

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Throwing you right back off the horse
« on: April 06, 2017, 04:54:09 AM »
Adrian: I sit in my 4 cornered room staring at candles. 

He sits in his 4 cornered room staring at candles.

Adrian: I am blak lung I am the monster of Gehenna I am the destroyer of gilead I am the ghost with the most. I am the Tarantula, the bad ass from Tucson, the Irate Arizonian and I will destroy you with my-

ring ring.

Adrian: Hold please.

ring riiiiiiing.

He sighs, pulling his cell phone out from his pocket and answers it.

Adrian: Jello?

On the other end is one Cecil Kennedy, sometimes the only member of NEXTWAVE who isn't insane, wondering what the hell his best friend and tag team partner is doing.

Cecil on the phone: What the hell are you doing?


Adrian: ...Cutting a promotional video? Why? How do you even see me right now?

Cecil on the phone: Magic!

Cut to a picture-in-picture shot of Cecil staring into a camera like he's in The Office.

Cecil on the phone: Or, yknow, I'm standing right outside the door. You just left us out here and walked into a janitor's closet. The hell, man?

Adrian glances around his 4 cornered room not staring at candles this time, but at everything else. The walls covered with brushes and mops and various chemicals that could probably cause a pretty neat explosion if those candles were to accidentally tip over or something. For a moment, he's kinda tempted to-

Cecil on the phone: Don't do it.

Adrian stops, taking the phone away from his ear for a second. He stares at it incredulously, then puts it back to his ear.

Adrian: How the fuck-

Cecil on the phone: I'm in ur brain, knowin' ur thinkin' meats!

Adrian: What?

Cecil on the phone: What?

Cecil staring deadpan into the camera again.

Cecil on the phone: Because I know you. Or at least I did. The hell's wrong with you lately, man? I know the Kaycee thing's got you out of sorts and the losses aren't helping but c'mon man, you're better than this.

Adrian rubs a hand through his hair, sighing heavily.

Adrian: It's just a lot at once, man. I thought comin' out to Australia would help, and it has, but- not as much as I wanted it to, yknow?

Speaking of the Kaycee thing- How's Brandon?

The picture -in-picture cuts fully to Cecil's side of the conversation as he glances off the to side, finding his OTHER best friend shooting away at video game zombies on the other side of the room.

Brandon: My name is Brandon J. Young and I. HATE. TAXES!

Cecil: ...It's Texas, you idiot.

Brandon: Oh, that too.

Cecil shakes his head.

Cecil on the phone: Oh, yknow, he's... doing.

Adrian winces.

Adrian: That bad, eh?

Cecil on the phone: Yeah.

Adrian: Welp, let's do this shit then.

Adrian snaps his fingers, and the screen cuts to black.


We cut back in to the bright twinkling lights and sounds of a hundred-plus different slot machines all over the casino floor. The hustle and bustle of ordinary, and not-so-ordinary, people rushing around to get their next fix, to lose their next dollar, all in the hopes of maybe, just maybe, hitting it big. Getting that one winning slot machine, that one perfect hand. All it takes is one shot. One opportunity.

And then you're in debt to some mobsters for the rest of your life.

Annnnnnnyways. Your hero and mine, Adrian Tanner Junior is sat at one of the slot machines -a penny machine- routinely pressing the light up 'go' button and watching as it keeps coming up with nothing. He doesn't seem too bothered by it though.

Adrian: Welcome to the Crown Casino, in cold as balls Melbourne, Australia.

Presses the button again. Still nothing.

Adrian: Admittedly, I am not a gambling man by nature.  Well, not this kind of gambling at least. Granddad had a bit of an issue with wasting away money in casinos, and that's just ONE of the many, many reasons why nobody in my immediately family -my brothers and sister- talk to my grandparents anymore.

But I digress.

You might ask, 'but Adrian if you're not a gambler what are you doing in a casino?' And that'd be a good question to ask, Timmy. Here's the easy answer. I'm here at the Crown Casino in cold as balls Melbourne because this place is a part of my history. I've come to Australia to... right myself. Get myself back on track after shit went down in both my personal and professional lives. And while I'm here I've decided to give you all a little visual tour of some of that history. Because history, your own history especially, is important. And unlike some idiots who lost to my fuckass partner last week and go 'YOU CANT USE MY HISTORY AGAINST ME ITS IN THE PAST LEAVE IT THERE!!!!' I know better than most that the old adage stands true. Those who condemn history are doomed to repeat it. Those who don't learn from their past mistakes are doomed to continue walking the same path they've always walked.

And I grow tired of making mistakes.

He glances off, out of camera view for a long moment. Takes a deep breath, then comes back. Presses the button again, still nothing.

Adrian: Last show, I made another mistake. I guess you can say I got a little too... over-eager. I was seconds away from righting the wrong of the Pride title qualifier months back and I got too into it. I let myself get carried away and I paid for it. I had Marquis dead to fuckin' rights with the Revolver, and instead of putting her down and finishing it I went for too much, and I got caught.

And now I have another loss to atone for.

He shakes his head, reaching over next to the slot machine to grab a bottle of water and take a sip from it.

Adrian: It is what is. Everyone loses, even me shockingly. I've had my fair share of losses, and like I said before I don't sweat losing to Marquis because behind the drugs and the 'everyone's garbage' attitude she's a talented star in her own right.

But man I fuckin' hate losing when I shouldn't have had any reason to.

He takes another sip of his water, then presses the button on the machine again. Still nothing.

Adrian: But we carry on.

And in the spirit of carrying on, helllloooooo Scott Stevens.

He gives an almost sarcastic half-wave to the camera.

Adrian: I guess you could call this the loser's bracket, yeah? Throw the two guys who lost to ol Bronxy's bullshit in the ring and let 'em fight for bragging rights.

Hi, I'll be the guy bragging at the end of the night.

A small smirk and another half-wave.

Adrian: Scott Stevens, the 'bad ass from Texas.' The former #1 contender, the guy who spent months stalking Eli and the other idiot and didn't even make so much as a dent on our World Champ's radar at the end of the day. Honestly I think you just made him worse.

 Yeah you had a wicked caged ladder match with him but at the end of the day you didn't get the job done.

Presses the button again. Still nothing.

Adrian: Scott Stevens, the guy who lost to Bronxy in round two of the South Beach Brawl Cup.

Yeah, I 'lost' first. Yeah you beat Alexis Morrison in the first round but for all your promises, all your posturing, you didn't get the job done.

One more time for good measure.

Still nothing.

Adrian: Scott Stevens, the guy I pinned for my XTV Championship at the end of Fright Night.

He grins. You had to know that was coming.

Adrian: Yeah making it into the Warzone and surviving as long as you did was a hell of an accomplishment but in the end... you didn't get the job done.

Maaaan you were reaaaaaaalllly not the person to tell Bronx he 'couldn't do it' in regards to winning the Cup. Evil can say it, I can say it, because we've actually won things of importance. Though our time in 4CW may seem like that's not true, it is.But you? Scott Stevens, the king of not getting the job done?

Nah, son.

Don't worry, this show I'll make sure you get the 'job' done though.

The Arizona Assassin chuckles at his bad joke. It's still a better joke than whatever that fuckin' football thing was that Scotty boy put out last show. Yeesh.

Adrian: Honestly, and I'm being serious here -I know me being serious, SHOCKING- but you and I are a lot alike, Scott. Not with the creepy stalker I AM THE MONSTER YOU SHOULD PEE YOUR PANTS OUT OF IN FEAR thing you like to play off but the- nobody believing in us despite us constantly showing them otherwise. That's me to a tee. Despite all of my many, many, many accomplishments, people STILL look at me as if I'm some nobody from some podunk federation that doesn't matter in the long run and NOT as the almost-undefeated megastar that I really, truly am. So I feel you in that, man. I really do. I get how it feels. It's frustrating. It's enough to drive a person up the wall.

The difference of course is,when I lose it's a special occurrence. When you lose it's, well, a Wednesday.

He shrugs, then presses the button again. Still nothing. Surely one of these days. The mental image of himself as Raul Julia suddenly comes to mind and he shudders, but continues.

Adrian: I'm not gonna lie, Scotty. I'm in kind of a shit mood after the last couple of weeks and I could really, really, use a rebound.

You, Scott Stevens, are the rebound.

You're the one that's gonna give me that boost in the arm that I need to get back to the ways I'm best known for. You're the ugly chick guys use to get their confidence back before moving onto bigger and better things. That's a terrible comparison and I would never say that to any actual woman but hey the shoe fits in this case.

I got overconfident last week in that ring and I let it bite me in the ass. I'm always overconfident, that's the entire point of the game. You go in expecting to win and when you don't you brush the dirt off your shoulders and you try again. But when you lose because of your own fuck ups, it's a bit harder to brush that dirt off, a little harder to clean that blemish off your skin. It takes time, and energy, and grieving.

I'm done grieving. I've gone through the five stages and come out the other side ready and willing and prepared to fight my way back to the point I need to be. Back to where I belong. Back to where I'm fighting the Eli's and Jair Hopkins of the world and not the Scott Stevens's. Because you're a good talent Scott, but you're not me. And while you're good, and you're good enough to get thrown a World Title challenge when the Champ has nobody else to face at that point, I'm that guy who's in the main events because he deserves to be there! And yeah I stumble and I fall but I always, always, pick myself back up again and put myself back up where I belong!

He takes another swig of his water.

Adrian: So you get to be my rebound, Scotty boy. Congrats to you. It's not all bad, honestly. You get to come out and a have a five-star match with the Arizona Assassin, and yeah you might wind up eating a Revolver or three but at least you get the accomplishment of watching as all the fans at ringside clap and cheer and congratulate us on having the match of your life. That's a hell of a consolation prize, right?


You're not gonna shake me with The Weeknd lyrics or bad sports parodies, Scott. I eat bad parodies for breakfast.

Cecil Kennedy randomly walking by: Sometimes lunch and dinner too!

Adrian: Indeed.

It's time to get back on track. I said that last week but now it's REALLY time! Really, really. And I can think of no better person to hone my craft on, to get back to business with, than the guy who lost to the world champ at the last pay per view. It's a good test. And when I beat you, and I WILL beat you, it'll be another feather in my Cap o' Beating People Who Mattered in 4CW for Like a Minute.

There are a lot of feathers in that Cap, and adding yours to it will just make it that much sweeter when I eventually do get to complete my goal of Winning Everything Forever.

He presses the button on the machine again. It almost comes up a winner, but misses at the last second. Kinda like last show. This is getting infuriating, but he perseveres.

Adrian: This place holds a lot of history for me. Well, Melbourne itself more than this casino specifically but still. This is part of my past. A long night where I fought five other people in a brawl that went all through this place right as it first started. We damn near demolished this place.

I bet Soutter wasn't happy with the bill they gave him at the end of the night but, yknow, it was his idea so fuck 'em.

In the 'Crown Casino Brawl' I fought monsters, I fought giants, I fought 'superior athletes' I fought a bee I didn't give a fuck. The only thing that mattered was winning. It wasn't even for anything special , which you'd think forcing a bunch of dudes to kill themselves inside of a casino would be, but it wasn't. It was a matter of pride. It was yet another chance to prove I was good as I said I was, long before anyone had any real reason to believe I was.

And so, I did just that.  I out-violenced the violent monster Mars, I outfought the giants who thought I was just some 'tiny cruiserweight', I bled, I sweat, I broke bones for the sake of being able to say I was the best at Casino Brawling. It sounds ludicrous now, but back then, I did what I had to do to make my name known.

I mean, I'd still do it now 'cause it was fuckin' fun, but at least I can acknowledge how ridiculous it was.

The point I'm getting at here, Scotty, is no matter how badly you wanna get back on that horse, I'm gonna be there every step of the way to throw you right back off it. It's MY damn horse, this week at least. Next week you can face Manny and beat him again or something. But this week? There will be no horse-corralling for you. There will only be pain and failure. There will only be sorrow and sadness waiting for you, Scotty.

Don't worry though, I'll make it quick.

He points his hand like a gun at the camera. With the other hand he presses the button again.

Adrian: The only horse you're getting back on this show, Scotty, is that one slow pony in the back of the stable. You know the one, kinda dim-witted, takes a little too long to eat its oats, blankly stares at you like you're some weird alien and not his rider of ten years. That's your horse, the one destined for the glue factory.

Meanwhile I'll be over here riding Epona up in this bitch, on my way to steal your girl and kill Ganondorf- Er, well you get the idea.

Me, good horse. You, glue factory.

Me, back to my winning ways where I belong. You-

He 'fires' the gun.

Adrian: Bang. You go squish now.

The Legend of Zelda theme starts to play out of nowhere. He turns back curiously to look at the slot machine which is pouring out pennies onto the floor. A large green JACKPOT sign above the machine constantly blinking on and off.

Adrian: Well, look at that!

He grins, knowingly. The camera fades to black on the shot of the giant JACKPOT sign. It's a sign of things to come. Good things.

For him, not you.

Never you.