Adrenaline #70 - 7/26/17

Fri Jul 03, 2020 4:42 am

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What We Fight For

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Blackness.
A faint movement in the dark.
The sound of a cork being pulled out of a barrel.
A glass being filled.
The cork being shoved back in.
A maddening drip as a voice breaks the darkness...

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I know what you’re thinking...

Drip...

You’re trying to figure out why somebody like me is coming after the 4CW Tag Team Titles.

Drip...

“But he’s old... He’s a relic... He’s a fading memory of a time nobody cares about...”

Drip...

I’ve heard it all before and frankly...

Drip...

You’re right.

Drip...

I’ve got nothing left to prove. I don’t need anymore to gain. Hell, I don’t HAVE to do anything anymore...

Drip...

...

Drip...

But...

Drip...

What if there was something I needed to prove? What if there was something I needed to gain? I mean what if...

Drip...

What if that something was more than what I was? More than what I could ever be? What would I do to achieve that goal?

Drip...

Would I fight for it?

Drip...

Would I cry for it?

Drip...

Or maybe... Just maybe... Would I die for it?

Drip...

How far would one man go to achieve what his purpose really is?

Drip...

So...

Drip...

What are you thinking now?

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A soft light breaks the darkness as we see a man cracking open a large, rustic door. The camera takes in what appears to be an ancient warehouse filled with dust, barrels and casks. As the light illuminates the room, we get a good look at the man standing in front of us. Standing over 6 feet tall and filling out his beige Poplin suit with well earned gym muscles, we soon realize we are looking at wrestling legend and High Stakes Wrestling CRO “The Blast” Jack Michaels. At 50 years old, the salt and pepper in his close cropped hair and wrinkles around his face do not take away from the overwhelming presence he possesses. The two most startling features are his granite jaw and piercing eyes which come back to where the camera lies. A small caption appears towards the bottom of the screen as Jack walks towards the camera and picks up a glass filled with Scotch.

July 14th, 2017
Speyside, Scotland
Chivas Regal Storage Facility A
3:40 PM Local Time

I remember picking up Chivas Regal as a sponsor for High Stakes Wrestling but I never figured I’d have a chance to visit their bottling facility. Then again, I never thought I’d be stepping into the ring for 4CW either so I guess life is just full of surprises.

Jack takes a sip off of his drink and takes a seat next to the cask he apparently pulled his drink from. He hammers the leaky cork with his fist and exhales deeply.

When my partner, Christy, told me about this tournament, I must admit I was a bit skeptical. I mean, what was the point for us to come halfway across the world to fight for one more title... One more trophy... One more piece of flash that while I do respect, I really couldn’t care less if I held onto it or not. But then... Something changed.

Jack chuckles lightly as he looks at the smoky, amber liquid in his glass. The smile fades from his lips as he ponders it deeply.

Do you believe in fate? That somehow we are all predetermined to do something in our lives in order to fulfill a greater purpose? That one day, you, me and everybody will find themselves in that moment which will define not only who we are as human beings but the very essence of what it means to be alive?

Jack takes his eyes off the glass and his gaze wanders far beyond what we can physically see.

I used to think that I controlled my destiny... That somehow I was the one that made the choices that shaped the world. It was all about me. Me. ME.

A look of disgust crosses Jack’s face as he looks up directly into the camera.

But no... It’s not about me at all now is it? It’s not about being your hero... It’s not about being the champ... No...

Jack stands up from the chair and walks over to where the light wind blows across the Scottish fields. He takes a deep breath and a new, small smile forms on his lips.

It’s about doing what’s right so the next generation can get what they deserve. It’s about proving once and for all that it’s never been about flash... It’s never been about money... It’s just proving that it’s about who is the best. Proving who can stand toe to toe and say ‘HERE I AM.’ God... It’s beautiful.

With a slight tear in his eye, Jack finishes his Scotch and puts the glass on a small table next to him. He turns back to the camera and nods his head.

This is the reason I am here. I am here to stake the line and dare anybody to cross into what we have built. You see, this generation of professional wrestlers have seemingly forgot where we came from. They want to believe that they are “special.” That they are “unique.” That somehow, someway, they are better than what I was... What my partner is... And what High Stakes Wrestling represents.

Jack turns and walks out of the warehouse as the camera spins to the front of him. He walks along the grass as he continues to speak.

So here we are then. Round one of the Bad Company tournament where two legends of the squared circle set to rectify the wrongs of this sport by squaring off with the current Pride champion Amber Ryan and her Johnny Come Lately partner Danny B. I mean, it’s really an interesting partnership isn’t it? One being the former face of Boardwalk, the other being some carny trash street thug with a penchant for violence. I mean, with the gold Danny won in the past, the Pride belt Amber wears on her shoulder and the sheer talent these two have, you would think that a washed up retiree like me would be worried wouldn’t you?

Jack suddenly stops and smirks into the camera.

You’d be wrong.

We hear the honking of a horn as a car starts pulling up the country road where Jack is. Jack turns to look at it and raises a hand in acknowledgment before continuing on.

You see, our first round opponents are exactly what I am out here fighting against. You think for one second that some reject from the Jersey Shore and his scarred up, hardcore, barbwire whore do anything to make me feel hope for the future of our sport? No... All it does is make me want to throw up. Let me give you a newsflash and this is more directed towards the Courtney Love reject more than anything... Hardcore doesn’t scare me. Extreme doesn’t scare me. More importantly... YOU don’t scare me.

We see a slight tinge of anger cross Jack’s face as he cranks his neck slightly. He clears his throat and points at the camera.

While you were still getting drunk off the Jack Daniels soaking in your mother’s tit, I was out winning world titles. While you were douching with thumbtacks and masturbating with a barbwire bat, I was running a successful wrestling school and actually doing something to BETTER the sport instead of making it a mockery. While you tried to bleed your way to stardom, I made others bleed for ME. Everything, AND I MEAN EVERYTHING, you ever hoped to accomplish in this sport has already been done by ME. World titles, million dollar contracts, fan respect, global acclaim... I DID IT. And you know what? So did my partner. So have my students. So have dozens of other wrestlers like me that didn’t take a dump on the sport with this ultra violent crap and instead made it worth something to be a professional wrestler. We have respect, we have class and we have the desire to push this thing back to where it needs to be.

The car Jack waved at earlier has now made it’s way to where he stands and we see that it is town car being driven by Christy Clark-Chaos. She puts it in park as Jack looks back to the camera one last time.

I need everyone to understand that what Christy and I represent is so much bigger than what any one person could hope to accomplish. High Stakes Wrestling is not just a cute name because we are based in Las Vegas... But rather what we are willing to risk in order to prove that what we believe in is right. So whether it is Danny and Amber, the Asshole Antagonists, Cheech and Chong, Simon and Garfunkel, Hall and Oates or the reanimated corpses of Laurel and Hardy... We are going burn a fire in this tournament and piss on the ashes. And remember... It’s not about the titles... It’s not about the money... It’s only about the RESPECT. Oh, and as I always say...

IT’S GOING TO BE A BLAST!

Jack turns to look at Christy and laughs.

That’s my line.

Yeah, but I say it way better.

Christy smiles broadly as Jack continues laughing. He heads over to the car as the screen fades to black...

*Fri Jul 03, 2020 4:46 am*

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Myth and Reality
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"Myth or Reality?"

The question looms in the air a moment as the scene focuses in on Christy, standing on the shores of Loch Ness. The camera watches the sun twinkle off of the water for a moment as Christy speaks once more.

"You've all heard the stories, I'm sure."

She begins to walk along the shoreline as she keeps speaking to the camera.

"The great creature that supposedly inhabits these waters. It's a great story; a great creature to believe in. A massive creature swimming these waters with its dinosaur like features. Who wouldn't want to believe in Nessie? It's a great story, it really is. I'd love to believe in such a thing. Much like the chances of Amber and Danny becoming the 4CW Tag Team Champions though, it is a myth. I have learned a long time ago, though... not to believe in fairy tales. Someone should have given these two the warning on that. Thinking the two of them can put their differences aside and unite for a common goal... it is a fairy tale. It is a myth... and the two of you have no idea what you are getting yourselves into. "

She slowly shakes her head as she keeps walking.

"The fact one could think the Distorted Angel and her joke of a partner could stop us is laughable at best. I can care less about Danny, I really can. I don't know much about him, I admit... but what I do know makes it very hard for me to take him seriously. I mean yes, he's been a top tier champion, held it for a couple months. That's the one thing I do know about him. The problem is that I have done gave my thoughts on that company in the past. It was not a wrestling company; not near the caliber that it claimed itself to be. It was a joke in itself in that it preached wrestling when it didn't have many actual WRESTLERS on its roster. It was a glorified film school that just so happened to host wrestling matches, lackluster matches, but matches none the less. So even as a quote unquote "World Champion..." it's tarnished because that championship was trash in itself."

Christy shakes her head sadly.

"In short, I just never was impressed with anyone that came out of that so-called company with few exceptions. Ironically, Amber... I have to give you credit because one of them... is who you took that title off of."

She pauses for a moment.

"Wait... did you think I was going to say one of them was you?"

She grimaces.

"Awkward."

She waves it off and continues walking again.

"It's kind of hard for you to be one of them, for everything you represent. I mean sure, you did win the PRIDE Championship as you made note of. Kudos to you... you didn't really out wrestle him to do it, but hey, you won it. That's what matters, right? No, I get it. The thing is... anyone can be lucky on one night. Before you get to bragging too much, you should actually defend it though. Anyone can win a Championship... it takes a real champion, to defend it... just a tip."

She gives a slight wink to the camera as she keeps walking.

"You may think you have all the answers. That your style makes you something to be feared when it doesn't. This is a Tag Team Tournament. It's going to take some actual teamwork and wrestling ability to go the distance. Your whole schtick... it might have gotten you past a round or two, but it would have caught up to you as soon as you fought a REAL team... and unfortunately, as fate would have it, you got that right out of the gate. Actually, my only real question is to Amber and whose dick you had to suck in order to get that Pride title shot let alone be allowed in this tournament? I mean obviously, you have no in ring ability short of rubbing glass across your forehead and sticking thumb tacks in your nipples so you must be blowing somebody in the upper office. Seriously, I don't care how tough you think you are, how hardcore you can be in the ring or how many dicks you can suck in order to get a title shot... the only thing I care about is wrestling circles around your little hardcore ass and moving on to a real team in this tournament."

She stops walking and composes herself but keeps her eyes on the camera.

"I can talk all I want about you two as individuals but it's not really going to matter much. That is the biggest problem here. You are two individuals and not even very good individuals at that. Two people who do not even trust one another... and you expect to defeat us? Two individuals cannot defeat a unit, that is again... Myth. Amber, I know you THINK you are good enough to carry your trash of a partner if you have to. I commend your ego for thinking it is possible and, if you had drawn ANY other team in the qualifier, it might actually be possible you could do exactly that to get your team to Bad Company. The fact is, you can't do that... against us. The fact you think that is even possible against the likes of US... is Myth."

She looks over to see two individuals about 20 feet away from her.

"That is Reality."

Looking closer we can see that it is Jack Michaels and his 17-year-old daughter skipping rocks across the water.

"I was about her age, maybe a year or two younger, when I first saw him compete. He was great back then, he really was something special."

She turns and looks back to the camera.

"And I know the two of you, you're probably thinking the same thing I thought two years ago. The man may have been great back in the day, but at his age, he has no business stepping into the ring with me at my prime, he doesn't stand a chance."

She slowly shakes her head.

"Wrong. You're going to have to learn the same thing I learned. A Man with the desire and abilities he has; he continues to defy logic, his prime never went anywhere, his prime may have another 10 years left... The two of us, we've had an interesting journey. From myself as a fan when I was a teenager... to arrogantly thinking he did not belong in the ring with me years after his career was expected to be over... To a whole new level of respect being gained through numerous battles... to our business partnership. To... basically, Family. I have named my own three-month-old son after him. You can't fathom that level of respect and unity."

She looks back over watching Jack for a moment.

"There are several individuals he has influenced. Several people who would trust that man with their life. Two years ago..."

She looks back to the camera.

"I did not expect I would be one of them."

She starts walking again, still talking to the camera.

"That's the reality that you are facing. You have a man like that, a man I know first hand that no one in this tournament can stand toe to toe with. No one is coming out unscathed. Add me to the mix and forget Amber and Danny... there isn't a team in this tournament that can stop us. That is fact, that is reality. We don't claim to be this hot new thing... because we're not. We don't need stupid gimmicks."

She stops at her destination, looking back to the camera.

"We represent the Greatness this business once was and what it SHOULD be. We stand against The TRASH most of it has become. I believe you know exactly who I mean."

"Oh and just for reference... yes it has been longer than a month... but I assure you High Stakes Wrestling will still be here next year... and beyond. That said, however in all your differences of your unholy alliance. Danny, Amber... the two of you do have at least one thing in common. That is when the two of you..."

"Become two more Stars Struck."

Christy turns and looks at Amber Michaels who smiles and goes back to skipping rocks.

"Really?"

Jack smiles and puts his hand on Christy's shoulder.

"I guess that makes us even."

"Dorks."

Christy chuckles and shakes her head as the three of them sit down on a blanket watching the sun set. A group of Bagpipers set up down the shoreline and begin to prepare themselves. It is the start and sounds of a bagpipe show that drifts the scene into black.

Adrenaline #70 - 7/26/17

Adrenaline #70 - 7/26/17

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