April 25, 2019, 12:52:00 PM

Author Topic: A Seat at the Table  (Read 252 times)

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Offline Bronxy V

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A Seat at the Table
« on: January 12, 2019, 03:31:51 AM »
“Cyrus Riddle, if he were dying of thirst and had jugs of water sitting beside him… he would crawl through the desert just to lick the sweat off of the taint of Dakota Smith to keep himself alive. This dude dialect sounds like he’s fresh out of a Harry Potter movie. Shove your blokes and innit’s up your ‘arse’ Cyrus. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long ass time, and you’re going to find out when you get in the ring with me just how far behind you’ve really fallen over the last year.”

We don’t see Bronx yet, but we do hear dishes clanging, sinks running. The sound of water boiling. Finally we see Bronx enter a room which has a long table. He is wearing an apron, his hair is pushed back with a headband. He looks up as if he weren’t expecting company.

“It’s a goddamn shame that the man who can barely keep his head above .500 will likely be alongside me in the Hall of Fame one day. Personally? I hope you quit before then. I just don’t understand how time and time again you can drop off the face of the earth and come back with open arms every fucking time. How many times can you stumble through the curtains like a fucking zombie and nobody say a word to you when you come rolling back in like nothing happened? Quite frankly, it makes me sick. It makes me sick that you can do that and other’s can’t. It makes me sick that you aren’t at the bottom of the card where you belong… maybe I can put you there… if the wake up call wasn’t how boring your tag reign was… or any other title you’ve had for that matter was… then I guess this… ‘bloke’ is never going to get it.”

Shrugging. Bronx had a white plate in his hand as he sat it down at the head of the table. Then he neatly folded a napkin and put it in front of the plate.

“Your name is littered all over the 4CW history books and not a goddamn one of them looks impressive as we stand in 2019. Your XTV Championship win was against a bunch of people who have never won anything or had an impressive reign in their entire lives, then you promptly lost that a month later to Nurse Kinsley because… it’s Cyrus being Cyrus. You’ve sniffed Cashe’s junk more than you have a 4CW Championship opportunity and your tag reign was erased by a buddy cop movie… but I would absolutely LOVE to hear you sit down and tell us about your career, Cyrus.”

A smirk played on Bronx’s lips as he walked back towards the kitchen. He put on some oven mitts and lifted a pot off of the oven and walked it back to the table where he placed it in the middle.

“I’m sure we would hear about this cool badass. But in reality it’s all stolen valor. You’ve not been through the wars that I have, and I don’t have to act like a complete dorky edge lord to get my point across. You look at yourself in the mirror and you see a cold blooded killer, and the rest of us see a clown Mya Deaton wants to fuck. I see a scared little boy who time and time again is so afraid of getting emasculated he has to act like such a big manly man. Puffing his chest out. Getting another tattoo. This guys ego is so fragile if you call him gay he would go out of his way to show you he’s not. Or if you tell him his dick is small it’s like the biggest insult in the world. It’s elementary shit that he gets from his daddy Jason Cashe.”

“A fucking plundering Viking. Really? The best thing you can plunder is your tongue so far into Jair’s asshole you can taste Dakota. Because let’s not even get me STARTED on Crooked Kingdom..”

Bronx raised a finger.

“Actually, let’s do.”

He lifted the lid on the pot he had brought to the table and closed his eyes an took a deep breath with a smirk.

“You marched right out there with the rest of those losers and you stood over my lifeless body, and I will never forget that, Cyrus… because it’s so fitting that you were out there and wanted attention because GOD himself knows that you’ve never worked for a goddamn thing in your entire career in 4CW. It’s always been someone else. You’ve always stood in a shadow, and when you haven’t and won a championship? You’ve failed. I don’t know if you got tapes on someone or what but you aren’t good enough to be in the middle of the card with me, you belong at the bottom, in the basement where you probably claim to keep the bodies but in reality it’s a shrine to Dakota, Viduus and every other edge lord wanna-be serial killer you masturbate to every night.”

“The moment you stepped to me was the moment you sealed your fate with me. I smiled when Jair retired. I laughed when Cashe got fired. I revel in delight  every time that ass fuck Dakota takes a loss because he’s barely a step above you… and I cringe every time I see you manage to win a match. Because I know deep down you don’t deserve it. I know deep down you don’t work hard. I know deep down all it is… is talk, talk, talk from Cyrus Riddle. As long as he looks the part, he doesn’t give a fuck what happens in the ring. Well eventually? People are going to poke holes through that, and eventually… people like me are going to expose you.”

Bronx turned on his heel and went back into the kitchen.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m on a high horse at my lowest right now. I just lost to the SadBoiz and it really sucked to have to take the pin and give Bryan Williams his biggest career highlight since losing to that dude who was waiting to have his pool filled up. That is my charity case for 2019. I don’t feel like giving out another. Do you see what I do with failure and losses, Cyrus? I bounce back. I strive to get better. When I lost to Manny, what did I do? I know the 4CW faithful loves them some fucking facts now. I went out and I beat Madison and left no doubt who the Ace was around here.”

“Each year I’ve opened the year up with a loss. 2017, 2018 and now 2019. What did I do in those previous two years? I won wrestler of the year and you can bet your edge lord ass I am coming for a three peat. And it’s people like you that drive me, Cyrus. It’s people like you that keep me going. I can’t stand to see people like you have championships and get pushed to the top of the card. Quite simply? You’re a product of just sticking like shit on the bottom of your shoe and that’s why you’ve been carried to so many high quality matches and championships.”

He shrugged.

“You’ve impressed me probably… once… twice? Since I’ve been in 4CW. I’m amazed our paths have never crossed because I’ve just been waiting to unleash at you. So I appreciate management making this match happen. Because not only do I have some steam to let off but I have been waiting to fuck you up since you aligned with those cringe ass “Hall of Famers”, and yes I’m putting that in quotations because there isn’t another company in the entire world they could go to right now and win anything…”

As he walked to the oven, he opened it up and peered at what was inside. Tilting his head from side to side he closed it back up and turned up to the heat. A great metaphor for this promo.

“4CW has made you lazy because you're always going to have a spot. I could do the same thing. I could mail it in every week like I did last week.”

Looking forward he gave a soft shrug.

“Sorry, SadBoiz. It’s true. You know it deep down, and you’ll find out if either one of you catch me one on one.”

Then back to the oven.

“But I just can’t do that. The money is nice. Being apart of the roster is good for the clout, but I can’t just sit back and not care what happens like I did last week. It was a sting to my ego, and it was an eye opener that just because my name is Bronx Valescence and just because I went into the hall of fame and just because I am the greatest 4CW Champion of all time…”

Another look forward.

“Facts only.”

He popped a lid off of another pot that was on the stove.

“People aren’t going to just… lay down. I’m everybody’s Super Bowl, Cyrus. You know what that means? I’ve said it before in my previous run but I bring out the very best in everybody that steps into the ring with me because they know what type of effort it takes to knock me off. They know that every week I am going to fight like it’s the 4CW Championship… and now? Now is the time I make my case for the top title again. I don’t care what I have to do to get there… I’m going to get there, and I couldn’t be happier that you’re in the way… but the question is…”

Bronx dipped his pinky finger into the pot and then lifted it to his mouth to taste it. He licked at his lips for a moment and then nodded and went to take that to the table as well.

“Will you step up to the plate? Or will you be obliterated? Like it or not, I gave 4CW an identity. I gave it someone to root for. Someone you could tune in every week and KNOW that if someone was going to knock me off, they’d have to die doing it. That drove people to watch. That drove people to come here and try and knock me off. Who the fuck has EVER… EVER tuned into a 4CW show to see Cyrus fucking Riddle?”

He looked around the kitchen and waved a finger in the air as he looked around.

“Can I get like, the cricket sound effect? Can you put that into post? I once called Jair a system QB. His success didn’t come from his skill but the fact that he was just around a long ass time. Whatever your legacy will be in 4CW… it’ll be the same. You’re like the loser who has already graduated but hangs around and smokes cigarettes outside hoping one of the younger kids will join him, you fucking creep. I take honor in beating people like you. I take pride in putting on clinics in the ring against people like you… because I can see it in your eyes when you step into the ring with me Cyrus. All of that raping and pillaging you want to talk about as a Viking. All of the blood, murder death shit you do with Dakota. I know when you look across from me at Adrenaline. You will know without a shadow of a doubt that you are my bitch, and there isn’t a thing in this world that can change that… I’ve only wanted one thing since I’ve arrived at 4CW.”

Bronx opened the fridge and grabbed a pitcher of what looked like orange Kool Aid from it, he walked it to the table and sat down as well. One last trip to the oven, he pulled out a nice roast and placed it in front of him before he finally sat down, pouring his orange Kool Aid into a fancy fine glass, he fixed the napkin at his shirt after he removed his apron and then grabbed his fork and knife.

“A seat at the table. I had to earn that seat. I had to go through wars for that seat. I had to hurt people I didn’t want to hurt for that seat. Ante Up. Manny. Ana. The tournaments. There were times where I did not think I could make it… there were times where I didn’t think I was going to win. But i found a way, and finally… I have a seat at the table in 4CW. FINALLY, I have put my name at the forefront of this company where you cannot say the 4CW Championship without putting me at the conversation. I don’t care about your rankings system or the BCS or whatever the fuck. I will win the matches it takes to get back to the level I was at or I will hang my boots up for food—good.”

With authority, Bronx stabbed the roast with his knife and cut a piece off and then slapped it onto his plate. He followed it up with some mashed potatoes and tipped some gravy out on top of it. He then began cutting on the roast.

“I got my seat a the table and I’m starving, Cyrus. Unlike most of these people. I didn’t leave because of an injury—everybody does that because they want to look tough, right? I’ve never sustained a serious injury because I know how to take care of my body. I’m a tank, you see. I’ve proven that time and time again. I needed to get my head right. The road is a grind when you put everything you have into every single match and I know that is something that you can’t relate to. That’s the glorious thing about this match. If you don’t bring it? Everyone in the world is going to be able to tell because you’re not stepping into the ring with someone who just assumes you’re going to have one of your little slip ups. You’re stepping into the ring with the best. Wrestler. In. The. World. And that is a title that I’m not ready to relinquish just yet.”

Stabbing the fork into the roast he jammed a piece into his mouth and chewed. Letting his fork and knife drop with a clang agains the plate, he took a drink of his Kool Aid.

“At Adrenaline. Not only do you step into the ring with a man who is pissed off because he lost. But you step into the ring with a man who knows what he has to do to reclaim his spot at the top of this company. A lot of people will put me there right off the bat, Cyrus. But I will do what many before me haven’t done. I’ll come back, I’ll earn it all over again. And just like my last return. I will pull down my pants and piss all over your legacy just like I did Leon Black the last time.”

Sitting the glass of Kool Aid down, he winked as he removed his napkin from his shirt and neatly wiped the corners of his mouth.

“I keep hearing how… 4CW has changed. There is someone claiming to be the new King daily but all I see is the same corny uonoringal shit I saw in the last year. Including you being one of the most underwhelming wrestlers time and time again. I keep hearing how things have gotten tougher. That what won you a match six months ago… that type of effort won’t win you a match now… well I got bad news for people like that. I got bad news for this entire roster.”

Bronx took another bite of the roast he was eating. He dipped some in the mashed potatoes and gravy and took another bite, a vicious bite.

“Bronx Valescence was a name that changed the game once. I can do it again. I can adapt. You’re going to see that first hand. I’m not going to drop two matches in a row, Cyrus. I can’t look at a time during my career where I’ve been on a losing streak. I understand you’ve won matches. I understand you’ve beaten Ana. I understand you’ve got a few signature wins under your belt… but I promise you. I promise you I’m going to make you feel the anger I’ve had for Crooked Kingdom for far too long, because I know you were just a slappy for them. I know the group didn’t send you after me and… ha… you should be pretty fucking glad that they didn’t at the end of the day.”

“Don’t think for a second that’s the only reason why I want to win this match, Cyrus. Because of Crooked Kingdom. I’ve already told you why, if you were listening. A seat at the table.”

He waved his hands over his dining room set.

“I worked my ass off to get mine. You just stumble through the door. Loss after loss. Time after time, and you get yours. Whether you deserve it or not. I really thought after your big win at Bad Company that maybe you were going to change… but you haven’t. You’re still the same little boy trapped under some shitty tattoos and a gaudy flat bill hate. You’re still as thin skinned, and you’re still hanging around where you shouldn’t be.”

“Get out of the fucking deep end. Get out of the shark infested waters because you cannot hang… and you will not hang. Go back to giving Dakota reach-arounds for hand outs. Go back underneath Cashe’s ballsack. Go back to where you’re comfortable… because on Adrenaline? I’m going to laugh in your face about every little bit of blood you’ve spilled. I’m going to laugh in your ugly, rat face about all the accolades you will claim… and you’re going to sit under MY table. Like a dog begging for fucking scraps.”

Winking, Bronx took another bite of his potatoes.

“I think you’re done here. Actually, I know you’re done here.”

We fade

« Last Edit: January 12, 2019, 03:35:08 AM by Bronxy V »