Post by Tomas Luger on Mar 5, 2010 23:14:04 GMT -5
Heads.
Colt Crawford.
Gee, Colt, I didn’t think that so little success would go to your head so quickly. That win over my tag partner was like huffing glue for you wasn’t it? You just got all excited, balled up those drippy panties in a little pink wad and had to start talking like you’d actually done something real. Something worthwhile. Let’s recap a little Colt Crawford, shall we? Let’s only go back around four months, I don’t want this to get repetitive and pathetic. It is, after all, Colt Crawford.
November 1st, Huntsville, Alabama.
Colt Crawford v. Saber. Bull Rope Match.
So you cost your tag team a spot at being tag champions. You and Saber, TWD Tag Team Champs. What an accomplishment that would’ve been. Your mom could’ve hung that shit on the fridge, like when you were kids. But instead, you cost your team the championship and then cost yourself a tag partner. So, Saber, like anyone that has been betrayed would’ve done, he beat the crap out of you in one helluva match. Listen for it now, pay attention. I give you credit, Colt, for entertaining those fans with what turned out to be a phenomenal match. But, Saber won. So instead of showing the world, the fans, and the rest of the roster that you and Saber splitting was justified on your end, you just make Saber look like a superstar in the making and shoot yourself in the foot. Nice work, but your plan to the top doesn’t stop there, does it? No, you are now an active participant in singles competition. Get ready for the murderous swath you’re about to carve through the roster, right?
November 15th, St. Pete Times Forum, Tampa Bay, Florida.
Colt Crawford v. Filipe Barroqueiro. One Fall
The great Colt Crawford, ready to stand on your own two feet. What better way to establish yourself in singles competition than by roughing up The Old School Hero, a veteran, a respected member of the roster. This wasn’t just another throw away match for you, this was a chance for you to come out and make a statement. We all know you could care less about the fanfare of this business, as the masses have never been priority numero uno. So you could stick it to everyone by getting the win over Filipe. He had no real momentum, so to speak, and this match up didn’t carry as much weight for him as for you. But you don’t think like that, do you Colt? Nope. You’re simple. Opponent, add trash talk, throw in a dash of trainer advice and presto! Success. Then you lost to The Old School Hero, in a match you were in, for the most part. Fil just got the better of you at the end, right? You had him, in your clutches, and then…bad luck struck. But you’re luck was bound to turn around…eventually…wasn’t it?
November 29th, Georgia Dome, Atlanta, Georgia.
Devil’s Dance Pay-per-View.
Colt Crawford v. Filipe Baraqueiro v. Saber v. Eno Redrum v. Jamie Krenshaw for the TWD World Heavyweight Championship.
This was it. This was the big chance you’d been waiting for. Even though you’d backed into this match by losing to two of the five men in the last month, you still had a shot at winning the most coveted prize in this federation. And how do you react? First, right before the match, your mentor, and an overall good dude, Brian Clark tries to yank you from the match. Firstly, Brian is a man that has won several titles in his day. A legend and a fan favorite through and through. We never saw eye to eye, but anyone that Andrei trusts as much as me, is OK in my book. Anyway, he tries to yank you and you dump him for Britney, and then kick the shit out of Clark. Classy. Way to have your priorities in order. Never mind that you have a chance to be crowned champion, let’s beat the crap out of Brian Clark. Then there was that small matter of the fatal five way for the belt, yeah that happened immediately following the Britney/Brian/Colt debacle. So the other four are in the ring, the bell sounds and you…invite…the others…to wrestle you? WTF?! Seriously? Bold move, to be sure, but Colt Crawford can’t beat Saber or Filipe in one on one competition, so you decided that, what, you’d have better luck if four guys kicked the shit out of you? So match goes on, lots of guys doing lots of things, and you’re just sort of clunking around, trying to toss folks out of the ring, which would be great at the Texas Tumble match at Ascension, but is kinda pointless here. Long match short, you lose, but to be fair, so does everyone not named Jamie Krenshaw. But you lose all the same. What’s worse than a loss, Colt? A loss, in a title bout, at a PPV. That’s fucking rough, pal. How does one recover? But, honestly, you only had a twenty percent chance at winning that match. Your odds should improve next time around. Bet on it.
January 24th, Arena Theatre, Houston, Texas.
Colt Crawford v. Saber. Semi-Final for #1 Contender to TWD World Heavyweight Championship.
Well, this seems eerily familiar. Colt against Saber, and it’s for a shot at being the number one contender. So you’ve lost three in a row, this is just the solution to turn things around. I mean, if you can get a win against your former partner here, you’re just one win away from a one on one shot at the belt. This was it. Brian Clark no longer a hindrance, Britney Clark executing the “master plan”, it was all falling into place. Except, by now, Colt, you could no longer lie to yourself, could you? You had to be sitting there during your nearly two month layoff second guessing yourself. “Is this the right course?”, “Can I really turn this sinking ship around?”, “Where are the wins?” So instead of focusing on the task at hand, you start questioning yourself out loud, and instead of focusing on Saber, you have Britney…try to warn me off? I have to ask, in hindsight, what was going on there? (though I know the answer, she really is clever, too bad I let her have one. Call it a gimme for old time’s sake.) So now, instead of being ready to face Saber, and ready to excel in the singles bracket, you’re all over the map, you’ve got no focus, no direction and no confidence. You hit the main event at a crawl, while Saber came out firing on all cylinders, and the easily predictable happened, Saber beats you…again. Now it’s starting to get desperate. You need a win, and need it badly. When will that win come to fruition?
February 7th, Oklahoma Ford Center, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.
Colt Crawford v. Jamie Krenshaw. Non Title Match.
Not the match you’d hoped for, I’m sure. After losing for nearly four months (which works out to one third of a year. Let that one sink in), you get a match up against the champ, though not for the title. See, Colt, this is where you had a chance to trap Krenshaw. You could’ve caught him with his pants down (not like that) and with him, maybe looking ahead to the winner of Saber v. Filipe, you could’ve stolen one against the champ. You could’ve ended the winning streak. You could’ve set yourself back on the path to success, the path you were on last November. I wanted to see this, with my own eyes, so I came down to help call the match. I did this, Colt, because I knew you’d fuck off this chance too. I did it, because I knew you needed help, because you clearly can’t/won’t help yourself. I came down ringside, hoping you’d attack me, and you did. You see, Colt, despite not liking you very much, the fans didn’t even boo you anymore. They care about you as much as you care about them. They don’t. You were becoming a filler. The guy that was big, strong, and had no in ring ability whatsoever. You were becoming a jobber. I didn’t need the attention, trust me, I’ve been wrestling the likes of Jason Hartnell and Scott Pandora. I did this to prove a point, Colt. One I hope you get before too long. So once again, you lose when you could’ve capitalized, but now the fans are interested again. Not all hope was lost for you, because you’ve attacked Tomas Luger. The fans love Tomas Luger. The fans, once again, boo you. This is a step in the right direction.
February 24, INTRUST Bank Arena, Wichita, Kansas.
Colt Crawford v. Justin York. One Fall.
Now you’re tangling with The Rabble. You get my tag partner, Justin York, and a chance, once again, to really do something in the ring. York is no slouch, he’s accomplished more in this federation and others than you’ve managed in your career, and they’ve both been pretty short for the most part, but all things considered, this was a pretty even match up on paper. I’m sure you thought that there would be some sort of twist or turn during your match, but I’m not going to interfere with your match ups, Colt. You can lose on your own, why should I help you with that? Then, a miracle. You beat Justin York. The fans hate it, but you’ve won. Of course, I had my own plans, and I get my slight measure of retribution for the announce table. You get an Encore, and a fitting one. What better way to celebrate your first win in nearly five months (one month shy of half a year. One win in half a year. Ouch.) than by letting me give you an Encore. You’re welcome.
So, here we are, Colt. That about sums up your road to recovery and the path you’ve taken to get to me and York at Supercard III. It’s filled with losses and mediocrity on your end. Until-
Until Tomas Luger stepped in and bailed you out. I don’t care if you admit this to me, or anyone else, but you know that when you’re alone and thinking about your career, it can be summed up like this-
“Everything was falling apart and I was nearly out of wrestling until Tomas Luger showed up.”
Now, let’s see if you understand the message I’ve delivered. I’ll give you a hint: You don’t need belts, or allies, or wins or losses to be important in this business.
But hey, Colt, it’s your time here. You do with it what you will.
Your invoice is in the post.
****
Tomas Luger is walking the streets of Denver, Colorado. It’s late, but he’s always been a night owl. He shuffles about, past closed eateries and open liquor stores. He squints as headlights approach in the distance. Fucking high beams.
-It’s weird, but everyone in this business assumes that they are in the driver seat. Guys like Drake Jaxin. They are the one behind the wheel, making all the right or wrong turns. Speeding through when they’re hot, pumping the breaks when things aren’t going so well.
The car passes, and Luger tries to wipe the spots of headlights out of his eyes, blinking wildly.
-In reality, most of the guys in this federation, guys like Colt Crawford, are the car. Machines that get pushed in whatever direction they’re told to go. They let someone else pull the strings for them. I never understood this philosophy, personally. I may not do the right things, at the right times, but at least I’m in control of my own fate.
Luger looks up and down the now deserted road and walks out into the middle of it, walking along the yellow line.
-Me, though, I’ve always tried to be the road. The path that everyone wants to follow. It hasn’t always worked out, as I’m not iconic by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve always gone on my own way, regardless of whatever cars and drivers may run over me in the process. I’ve tried harder to become a better role model for the fans. I’ve stopped the partying, I’ve stopped all the womanizing, I’ve stopped the blatant bashing. I’m trying to make a difference.
Luger puts his hands in his pockets and shuffles along, pondering the yellow line harder.
-The one thing you have to do is let go of the foolish notion that everyone’s opinions matter. Do I think the guys at the top of this federation respect me? Probably not. Does that make me lose sleep at night? No. There’s just no convincing some people, especially the one’s that think you’re a joke. Well, you know what? Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.
Luger’s pocket rings and he pulls his cell phone out and hits mute. It’s his tag partner, Justin York.
-Justin and I have never seen eye to eye on anything, but we make a damn good team. You know why? Because we may not like each other, but there is a mutual respect and an unspoken understanding of our roles within the team structure. I’m the leader, he’s my number two. I can get quick wins, he’s better over time. I’m a scrapper and a smart ass, he’s a technician and a hard ass. I was told I was crazy for trying to team with a green horn like York, and I was told it could end disastrously. Guess what, we won the Tag Team Championship. I don’t mind taking a risk on upside, it’s better than getting exactly what you expect out of a veteran. Ask Scott Pandora, he knows what I mean.
Luger flips open his phone and plays back his voice mail.
“Dude, Tom, you need to get in touch with me. You do remember we have a match this week, right? Maybe you noticed that it’s against Drake Jaxin and the guy that beat me last week while you were playing tour guide. Pull your head out of your ass and let’s get a W in the tag bracket. I want those God damned belts back around our waists, and this is the first step. Call me, fucker.”
Luger hangs up.
-See what I mean. I don’t sweat the details, never have, never will. Justin’ll probably have a prostate the size of a watermelon by the time he’s thirty five. He worries enough for the both of us. See, good team. He stresses for two weeks and I show up and win matches in five minutes. Works for me.
A car horn honks as Luger jumps out of the way before getting run over. Luger flips off the driver of the car as it speeds off into the night.
-That’s the problem with being on this path, once in awhile you have to dodge traffic. Crazy drivers and shitty cars.
****
Tails
Drake Jaxin.
I’m sorry, Drake, but I’m just really unfamiliar with you, personally. I think everyone is, really, at this point. I tried YouTube, but I couldn’t find you. Oh well, so much for that idea. I tried sitting through your promo, but I fell asleep. Great stuff, you’re working with. But I think I’ve got an idea about you. Tell me if I’m wrong.
You need exposure.
And who doesn’t? I’d like a little more lime light shining on my ass during the peak hours. Here’s where it gets murky, though. You need to get your name out there, make yourself heard, right? Why on Earth did you chose to team with Colt Crawford to do so? Rewind this shit if you’re unfamiliar with what I mean by that, I chronicle Colt’s recent history pretty clearly. Wait a minute, never mind, I get it. You teamed with Crawford because you realize that he won’t give you exposure, but wrestling against, not to mention in the same ring as, The Rabble of Dangerous Miscreants will boost your name value by at least ten times. I get it. Okay, so that tells me a little bit more about you.
You’re clever, if unspectacular.
If you can’t do it on your own, or with your over the top, black (agent, manager, homie), then find someone that can help you advance. Since YouTube isn’t really working out and you just roll tons of useless footage in your promos, then at least you can rub the magical heat lamp that I reside in and see if I’ll come out and grant your wish. Guess what, Drake, I’m in the giving mood. Wish granted. I’ll let you stand in my warm glow and soak up the heat, for a little while anyway, just until people start to notice Drake Jaxin, then it’s sink or swim, buddy. Let’s dig a little deeper.
You have bad taste in men.
Okay, we covered why you chose to team with Colt, or why I think you chose to team with Colt, but I have to ask anyway…seriously? Couldn’t you have just waited until I was done with Crawford to get my attention? I really have to point out how dumb this move could end up being. It’d be like deciding the iceberg you’re floating on is really terrible and jumping back on The Titanic. I’d rather take my chances freezing in obscurity than jumping onto a clearly sinking ship, but to each his own. I’ve made it known that I’ll take on anyone, anytime, anywhere, and you certainly fit the bill, but I really think you fucked up by latching onto Crawford. Just remember, when you’re stuck with him, or better yet, when he turns on you for no really good reason, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Maybe you’re more cleverer than that. Maybe.
Of course, Colt is a popular stepping stone. Look at Saber. Colt and he split and Saber spring boarded that into a World Title Shot. Are you hoping lightning strikes twice? I bet you are, you little fucking snake in the grass. You devious little imp. The only problem I see is that the secret is out about Colt: He’s no fucking good. End of story. He’s mediocrity at it’s finest, and instead of being in the mix for a world title, he’s scrambling for friends and wins at the moment. Saber got out before Colt started this desperate avalanche of losses, so it’s a bit different than what you’re doing. The only thing I can see is that if you and Colt go on to do great things, you can say you carried him and use that as a launch off point. But that’s a big if and a big risk, as there are no signs of colt slowing down (or speeding up, whichever). Good luck, either way, as I love people who take risks. I’d like to hope it pans out, but I can tell you, it won’t be at my expense.
You are clueless
While I might be toying with Colt right now, getting him exposure, granting him some spotlight that he hasn’t earned and doesn’t deserve, I’m not doing it for nothing. I’m Tomas Luger, and I don’t do anything for free. When the time comes, I’m going to collect from Crawford everything he owes me for all that I’ve done for him. The same goes for you now. You’ve decided to butt in, fine, that’s your choice and I welcome the competition, but this will cost you. It may end up costing you more than you’re willing to pay, and I’m prepared to deal with that end too. Just like I can let you stand in the spotlight with me, even if it’s against me, I can strip it bare from you and leave you as an untouchable. Remember, and this is important so pay attention-I will collect on all debts. Just something to think about before you go deeper into this than you may want to.
Come Supercard, you two will have to decide who it’s gonna be. Drake or Colt. Luger or York. Flip a coin and try to predict the outcome, just remember, I always play with loaded dice and I’m probably using a one sided coin. So while there’s two sides to every coin, there’s only one outcome at the Supercard.
And I think I’ve more than spelled that out for you.
But in the interest of keeping secrets, and not letting the ending to this story out of the bag, I’ll extend you this one thing, because it’s the only way the outcome changes for you two.
Good luck.
Colt Crawford.
Gee, Colt, I didn’t think that so little success would go to your head so quickly. That win over my tag partner was like huffing glue for you wasn’t it? You just got all excited, balled up those drippy panties in a little pink wad and had to start talking like you’d actually done something real. Something worthwhile. Let’s recap a little Colt Crawford, shall we? Let’s only go back around four months, I don’t want this to get repetitive and pathetic. It is, after all, Colt Crawford.
November 1st, Huntsville, Alabama.
Colt Crawford v. Saber. Bull Rope Match.
So you cost your tag team a spot at being tag champions. You and Saber, TWD Tag Team Champs. What an accomplishment that would’ve been. Your mom could’ve hung that shit on the fridge, like when you were kids. But instead, you cost your team the championship and then cost yourself a tag partner. So, Saber, like anyone that has been betrayed would’ve done, he beat the crap out of you in one helluva match. Listen for it now, pay attention. I give you credit, Colt, for entertaining those fans with what turned out to be a phenomenal match. But, Saber won. So instead of showing the world, the fans, and the rest of the roster that you and Saber splitting was justified on your end, you just make Saber look like a superstar in the making and shoot yourself in the foot. Nice work, but your plan to the top doesn’t stop there, does it? No, you are now an active participant in singles competition. Get ready for the murderous swath you’re about to carve through the roster, right?
November 15th, St. Pete Times Forum, Tampa Bay, Florida.
Colt Crawford v. Filipe Barroqueiro. One Fall
The great Colt Crawford, ready to stand on your own two feet. What better way to establish yourself in singles competition than by roughing up The Old School Hero, a veteran, a respected member of the roster. This wasn’t just another throw away match for you, this was a chance for you to come out and make a statement. We all know you could care less about the fanfare of this business, as the masses have never been priority numero uno. So you could stick it to everyone by getting the win over Filipe. He had no real momentum, so to speak, and this match up didn’t carry as much weight for him as for you. But you don’t think like that, do you Colt? Nope. You’re simple. Opponent, add trash talk, throw in a dash of trainer advice and presto! Success. Then you lost to The Old School Hero, in a match you were in, for the most part. Fil just got the better of you at the end, right? You had him, in your clutches, and then…bad luck struck. But you’re luck was bound to turn around…eventually…wasn’t it?
November 29th, Georgia Dome, Atlanta, Georgia.
Devil’s Dance Pay-per-View.
Colt Crawford v. Filipe Baraqueiro v. Saber v. Eno Redrum v. Jamie Krenshaw for the TWD World Heavyweight Championship.
This was it. This was the big chance you’d been waiting for. Even though you’d backed into this match by losing to two of the five men in the last month, you still had a shot at winning the most coveted prize in this federation. And how do you react? First, right before the match, your mentor, and an overall good dude, Brian Clark tries to yank you from the match. Firstly, Brian is a man that has won several titles in his day. A legend and a fan favorite through and through. We never saw eye to eye, but anyone that Andrei trusts as much as me, is OK in my book. Anyway, he tries to yank you and you dump him for Britney, and then kick the shit out of Clark. Classy. Way to have your priorities in order. Never mind that you have a chance to be crowned champion, let’s beat the crap out of Brian Clark. Then there was that small matter of the fatal five way for the belt, yeah that happened immediately following the Britney/Brian/Colt debacle. So the other four are in the ring, the bell sounds and you…invite…the others…to wrestle you? WTF?! Seriously? Bold move, to be sure, but Colt Crawford can’t beat Saber or Filipe in one on one competition, so you decided that, what, you’d have better luck if four guys kicked the shit out of you? So match goes on, lots of guys doing lots of things, and you’re just sort of clunking around, trying to toss folks out of the ring, which would be great at the Texas Tumble match at Ascension, but is kinda pointless here. Long match short, you lose, but to be fair, so does everyone not named Jamie Krenshaw. But you lose all the same. What’s worse than a loss, Colt? A loss, in a title bout, at a PPV. That’s fucking rough, pal. How does one recover? But, honestly, you only had a twenty percent chance at winning that match. Your odds should improve next time around. Bet on it.
January 24th, Arena Theatre, Houston, Texas.
Colt Crawford v. Saber. Semi-Final for #1 Contender to TWD World Heavyweight Championship.
Well, this seems eerily familiar. Colt against Saber, and it’s for a shot at being the number one contender. So you’ve lost three in a row, this is just the solution to turn things around. I mean, if you can get a win against your former partner here, you’re just one win away from a one on one shot at the belt. This was it. Brian Clark no longer a hindrance, Britney Clark executing the “master plan”, it was all falling into place. Except, by now, Colt, you could no longer lie to yourself, could you? You had to be sitting there during your nearly two month layoff second guessing yourself. “Is this the right course?”, “Can I really turn this sinking ship around?”, “Where are the wins?” So instead of focusing on the task at hand, you start questioning yourself out loud, and instead of focusing on Saber, you have Britney…try to warn me off? I have to ask, in hindsight, what was going on there? (though I know the answer, she really is clever, too bad I let her have one. Call it a gimme for old time’s sake.) So now, instead of being ready to face Saber, and ready to excel in the singles bracket, you’re all over the map, you’ve got no focus, no direction and no confidence. You hit the main event at a crawl, while Saber came out firing on all cylinders, and the easily predictable happened, Saber beats you…again. Now it’s starting to get desperate. You need a win, and need it badly. When will that win come to fruition?
February 7th, Oklahoma Ford Center, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.
Colt Crawford v. Jamie Krenshaw. Non Title Match.
Not the match you’d hoped for, I’m sure. After losing for nearly four months (which works out to one third of a year. Let that one sink in), you get a match up against the champ, though not for the title. See, Colt, this is where you had a chance to trap Krenshaw. You could’ve caught him with his pants down (not like that) and with him, maybe looking ahead to the winner of Saber v. Filipe, you could’ve stolen one against the champ. You could’ve ended the winning streak. You could’ve set yourself back on the path to success, the path you were on last November. I wanted to see this, with my own eyes, so I came down to help call the match. I did this, Colt, because I knew you’d fuck off this chance too. I did it, because I knew you needed help, because you clearly can’t/won’t help yourself. I came down ringside, hoping you’d attack me, and you did. You see, Colt, despite not liking you very much, the fans didn’t even boo you anymore. They care about you as much as you care about them. They don’t. You were becoming a filler. The guy that was big, strong, and had no in ring ability whatsoever. You were becoming a jobber. I didn’t need the attention, trust me, I’ve been wrestling the likes of Jason Hartnell and Scott Pandora. I did this to prove a point, Colt. One I hope you get before too long. So once again, you lose when you could’ve capitalized, but now the fans are interested again. Not all hope was lost for you, because you’ve attacked Tomas Luger. The fans love Tomas Luger. The fans, once again, boo you. This is a step in the right direction.
February 24, INTRUST Bank Arena, Wichita, Kansas.
Colt Crawford v. Justin York. One Fall.
Now you’re tangling with The Rabble. You get my tag partner, Justin York, and a chance, once again, to really do something in the ring. York is no slouch, he’s accomplished more in this federation and others than you’ve managed in your career, and they’ve both been pretty short for the most part, but all things considered, this was a pretty even match up on paper. I’m sure you thought that there would be some sort of twist or turn during your match, but I’m not going to interfere with your match ups, Colt. You can lose on your own, why should I help you with that? Then, a miracle. You beat Justin York. The fans hate it, but you’ve won. Of course, I had my own plans, and I get my slight measure of retribution for the announce table. You get an Encore, and a fitting one. What better way to celebrate your first win in nearly five months (one month shy of half a year. One win in half a year. Ouch.) than by letting me give you an Encore. You’re welcome.
So, here we are, Colt. That about sums up your road to recovery and the path you’ve taken to get to me and York at Supercard III. It’s filled with losses and mediocrity on your end. Until-
Until Tomas Luger stepped in and bailed you out. I don’t care if you admit this to me, or anyone else, but you know that when you’re alone and thinking about your career, it can be summed up like this-
“Everything was falling apart and I was nearly out of wrestling until Tomas Luger showed up.”
Now, let’s see if you understand the message I’ve delivered. I’ll give you a hint: You don’t need belts, or allies, or wins or losses to be important in this business.
But hey, Colt, it’s your time here. You do with it what you will.
Your invoice is in the post.
****
Tomas Luger is walking the streets of Denver, Colorado. It’s late, but he’s always been a night owl. He shuffles about, past closed eateries and open liquor stores. He squints as headlights approach in the distance. Fucking high beams.
-It’s weird, but everyone in this business assumes that they are in the driver seat. Guys like Drake Jaxin. They are the one behind the wheel, making all the right or wrong turns. Speeding through when they’re hot, pumping the breaks when things aren’t going so well.
The car passes, and Luger tries to wipe the spots of headlights out of his eyes, blinking wildly.
-In reality, most of the guys in this federation, guys like Colt Crawford, are the car. Machines that get pushed in whatever direction they’re told to go. They let someone else pull the strings for them. I never understood this philosophy, personally. I may not do the right things, at the right times, but at least I’m in control of my own fate.
Luger looks up and down the now deserted road and walks out into the middle of it, walking along the yellow line.
-Me, though, I’ve always tried to be the road. The path that everyone wants to follow. It hasn’t always worked out, as I’m not iconic by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve always gone on my own way, regardless of whatever cars and drivers may run over me in the process. I’ve tried harder to become a better role model for the fans. I’ve stopped the partying, I’ve stopped all the womanizing, I’ve stopped the blatant bashing. I’m trying to make a difference.
Luger puts his hands in his pockets and shuffles along, pondering the yellow line harder.
-The one thing you have to do is let go of the foolish notion that everyone’s opinions matter. Do I think the guys at the top of this federation respect me? Probably not. Does that make me lose sleep at night? No. There’s just no convincing some people, especially the one’s that think you’re a joke. Well, you know what? Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.
Luger’s pocket rings and he pulls his cell phone out and hits mute. It’s his tag partner, Justin York.
-Justin and I have never seen eye to eye on anything, but we make a damn good team. You know why? Because we may not like each other, but there is a mutual respect and an unspoken understanding of our roles within the team structure. I’m the leader, he’s my number two. I can get quick wins, he’s better over time. I’m a scrapper and a smart ass, he’s a technician and a hard ass. I was told I was crazy for trying to team with a green horn like York, and I was told it could end disastrously. Guess what, we won the Tag Team Championship. I don’t mind taking a risk on upside, it’s better than getting exactly what you expect out of a veteran. Ask Scott Pandora, he knows what I mean.
Luger flips open his phone and plays back his voice mail.
“Dude, Tom, you need to get in touch with me. You do remember we have a match this week, right? Maybe you noticed that it’s against Drake Jaxin and the guy that beat me last week while you were playing tour guide. Pull your head out of your ass and let’s get a W in the tag bracket. I want those God damned belts back around our waists, and this is the first step. Call me, fucker.”
Luger hangs up.
-See what I mean. I don’t sweat the details, never have, never will. Justin’ll probably have a prostate the size of a watermelon by the time he’s thirty five. He worries enough for the both of us. See, good team. He stresses for two weeks and I show up and win matches in five minutes. Works for me.
A car horn honks as Luger jumps out of the way before getting run over. Luger flips off the driver of the car as it speeds off into the night.
-That’s the problem with being on this path, once in awhile you have to dodge traffic. Crazy drivers and shitty cars.
****
Tails
Drake Jaxin.
I’m sorry, Drake, but I’m just really unfamiliar with you, personally. I think everyone is, really, at this point. I tried YouTube, but I couldn’t find you. Oh well, so much for that idea. I tried sitting through your promo, but I fell asleep. Great stuff, you’re working with. But I think I’ve got an idea about you. Tell me if I’m wrong.
You need exposure.
And who doesn’t? I’d like a little more lime light shining on my ass during the peak hours. Here’s where it gets murky, though. You need to get your name out there, make yourself heard, right? Why on Earth did you chose to team with Colt Crawford to do so? Rewind this shit if you’re unfamiliar with what I mean by that, I chronicle Colt’s recent history pretty clearly. Wait a minute, never mind, I get it. You teamed with Crawford because you realize that he won’t give you exposure, but wrestling against, not to mention in the same ring as, The Rabble of Dangerous Miscreants will boost your name value by at least ten times. I get it. Okay, so that tells me a little bit more about you.
You’re clever, if unspectacular.
If you can’t do it on your own, or with your over the top, black (agent, manager, homie), then find someone that can help you advance. Since YouTube isn’t really working out and you just roll tons of useless footage in your promos, then at least you can rub the magical heat lamp that I reside in and see if I’ll come out and grant your wish. Guess what, Drake, I’m in the giving mood. Wish granted. I’ll let you stand in my warm glow and soak up the heat, for a little while anyway, just until people start to notice Drake Jaxin, then it’s sink or swim, buddy. Let’s dig a little deeper.
You have bad taste in men.
Okay, we covered why you chose to team with Colt, or why I think you chose to team with Colt, but I have to ask anyway…seriously? Couldn’t you have just waited until I was done with Crawford to get my attention? I really have to point out how dumb this move could end up being. It’d be like deciding the iceberg you’re floating on is really terrible and jumping back on The Titanic. I’d rather take my chances freezing in obscurity than jumping onto a clearly sinking ship, but to each his own. I’ve made it known that I’ll take on anyone, anytime, anywhere, and you certainly fit the bill, but I really think you fucked up by latching onto Crawford. Just remember, when you’re stuck with him, or better yet, when he turns on you for no really good reason, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Maybe you’re more cleverer than that. Maybe.
Of course, Colt is a popular stepping stone. Look at Saber. Colt and he split and Saber spring boarded that into a World Title Shot. Are you hoping lightning strikes twice? I bet you are, you little fucking snake in the grass. You devious little imp. The only problem I see is that the secret is out about Colt: He’s no fucking good. End of story. He’s mediocrity at it’s finest, and instead of being in the mix for a world title, he’s scrambling for friends and wins at the moment. Saber got out before Colt started this desperate avalanche of losses, so it’s a bit different than what you’re doing. The only thing I can see is that if you and Colt go on to do great things, you can say you carried him and use that as a launch off point. But that’s a big if and a big risk, as there are no signs of colt slowing down (or speeding up, whichever). Good luck, either way, as I love people who take risks. I’d like to hope it pans out, but I can tell you, it won’t be at my expense.
You are clueless
While I might be toying with Colt right now, getting him exposure, granting him some spotlight that he hasn’t earned and doesn’t deserve, I’m not doing it for nothing. I’m Tomas Luger, and I don’t do anything for free. When the time comes, I’m going to collect from Crawford everything he owes me for all that I’ve done for him. The same goes for you now. You’ve decided to butt in, fine, that’s your choice and I welcome the competition, but this will cost you. It may end up costing you more than you’re willing to pay, and I’m prepared to deal with that end too. Just like I can let you stand in the spotlight with me, even if it’s against me, I can strip it bare from you and leave you as an untouchable. Remember, and this is important so pay attention-I will collect on all debts. Just something to think about before you go deeper into this than you may want to.
Come Supercard, you two will have to decide who it’s gonna be. Drake or Colt. Luger or York. Flip a coin and try to predict the outcome, just remember, I always play with loaded dice and I’m probably using a one sided coin. So while there’s two sides to every coin, there’s only one outcome at the Supercard.
And I think I’ve more than spelled that out for you.
But in the interest of keeping secrets, and not letting the ending to this story out of the bag, I’ll extend you this one thing, because it’s the only way the outcome changes for you two.
Good luck.