User Poets
The Shadow Pope
- Joined
- Jan 6, 1995
- Messages
- 2,192
- Points
- 36
- Age
- 44
- Location
- Top of the Pile
- Website
- www.valeriansgarden.com
I don't have a custom title belt. I don't have an entourage.
Somehow, that's what makes me revolutionary.
(FADEIN...
The Perth Hyatt, in a Regency King Suite. It's pricy; I had to make up the two hundred dollar difference between the standard rate and this one myself above and beyond what Eddie was willing to pay to put the roster up for Reloaded, but I figured, what the heck - you only win your first World Heavyweight Championship once, right?
The bed is incredibly comfortable, obviously. You get what you pay for with a Hyatt. Plus, I think Rose fell asleep mid - sentence as she was getting herself settled.
Ironically, I can't sleep tonight. Not only am I amped up on adrenaline from the match with Castor Strife, but I've got an icepack strapped to my shoulder, my elbow, and my knee. The pain is throbbing like mad, but if history is any indication I should be able to sleep without having ice dripping down half my body tomorrow.
The medic at the arena was confused by the fact that I was walking and moving around - painfully, but freely - until I told him that I was double jointed. He told me that my joints were predisposed to dislocation because of it and I would be able to recover from impacts like I took through the table more easily than most.
All he had for my head, though, was sixteen stitches.
Anyways...)
"What a long, strange trip it's been."
"I have things to say to Castor Strife, to Eddie Mayfield, to Legion... but that'll keep until Berlin. Right now, this belt has joint ownership."
I'm focused on the New Frontier World Title belt sitting in front of the television.
"This belt belongs to me, and just as importantly, this belt belongs to Team Impulse. Thank you for never leaving my side, guys. Thank you for believing in me and for showing the rest of the wrestling world that the Revolution exists, and is alive and well."
Revolution, Baby, that's my sound.
"What nobody ever seemed to get is that a revolution doesn't mean tables and chairs and a hardcore house of pancakes. A Revolution is doing something against the grain for personal reasons."
"This company was a freakshow cabaret when Eddie Mayfield and Craig Miles began their Wrestling Revolucion and I started competing. And where are we now?"
"Doc Silver - gone. Michael Manson - gone. Scott Riktor in a Bear Suit - gone. Joe the Plumber - gone. Felix Red - gone. Kooter Michaels-Cruise - gone. Yori Yakamo Junior - gone. In their place we've got Jack Bryant, Jack Harmen, Phil Atken, Leyenda de Ocho, Alex Austin... even Rook Black."
"Impulse."
"We've got the better end of the deal."
"I'll miss the crew in Laos, but I think it's important to actually be ready to wrestle again when the time comes. And the time will be here before long."
"But I'll tell you something, for all the nonbelievers and conspiracy theorists, for the cynics who no doubt still claim that Team Impulse was a corporate decision... I won this title without using a weapon, without using a single illegal hold or illegal object, without screwing over any other wrestler or denying them their own chance to make it on the biggest stage of all."
"I won this belt on my terms, and I'm going to defend it the same way."
Pause. A moment of silence.
"It's an old riddle, what are you willing to give up to achieve the highest levels of success?"
"Eighteen months ago I wasn't willing to give up anything, and Castor Strife became the greatest Champion this company had seen in years."
"Eight hours ago, I was faced with the same question."
"What did I give up?"
"Nothing."
"When you have nothing to regret, you have nothing to second guess. Can any of my potential challengers make that same statement?"
"I'll see you all in Berlin."
FADE out on the belt.
Somehow, that's what makes me revolutionary.
(FADEIN...
The Perth Hyatt, in a Regency King Suite. It's pricy; I had to make up the two hundred dollar difference between the standard rate and this one myself above and beyond what Eddie was willing to pay to put the roster up for Reloaded, but I figured, what the heck - you only win your first World Heavyweight Championship once, right?
The bed is incredibly comfortable, obviously. You get what you pay for with a Hyatt. Plus, I think Rose fell asleep mid - sentence as she was getting herself settled.
Ironically, I can't sleep tonight. Not only am I amped up on adrenaline from the match with Castor Strife, but I've got an icepack strapped to my shoulder, my elbow, and my knee. The pain is throbbing like mad, but if history is any indication I should be able to sleep without having ice dripping down half my body tomorrow.
The medic at the arena was confused by the fact that I was walking and moving around - painfully, but freely - until I told him that I was double jointed. He told me that my joints were predisposed to dislocation because of it and I would be able to recover from impacts like I took through the table more easily than most.
All he had for my head, though, was sixteen stitches.
Anyways...)
"What a long, strange trip it's been."
"I have things to say to Castor Strife, to Eddie Mayfield, to Legion... but that'll keep until Berlin. Right now, this belt has joint ownership."
I'm focused on the New Frontier World Title belt sitting in front of the television.
"This belt belongs to me, and just as importantly, this belt belongs to Team Impulse. Thank you for never leaving my side, guys. Thank you for believing in me and for showing the rest of the wrestling world that the Revolution exists, and is alive and well."
Revolution, Baby, that's my sound.
"What nobody ever seemed to get is that a revolution doesn't mean tables and chairs and a hardcore house of pancakes. A Revolution is doing something against the grain for personal reasons."
"This company was a freakshow cabaret when Eddie Mayfield and Craig Miles began their Wrestling Revolucion and I started competing. And where are we now?"
"Doc Silver - gone. Michael Manson - gone. Scott Riktor in a Bear Suit - gone. Joe the Plumber - gone. Felix Red - gone. Kooter Michaels-Cruise - gone. Yori Yakamo Junior - gone. In their place we've got Jack Bryant, Jack Harmen, Phil Atken, Leyenda de Ocho, Alex Austin... even Rook Black."
"Impulse."
"We've got the better end of the deal."
"I'll miss the crew in Laos, but I think it's important to actually be ready to wrestle again when the time comes. And the time will be here before long."
"But I'll tell you something, for all the nonbelievers and conspiracy theorists, for the cynics who no doubt still claim that Team Impulse was a corporate decision... I won this title without using a weapon, without using a single illegal hold or illegal object, without screwing over any other wrestler or denying them their own chance to make it on the biggest stage of all."
"I won this belt on my terms, and I'm going to defend it the same way."
Pause. A moment of silence.
"It's an old riddle, what are you willing to give up to achieve the highest levels of success?"
"Eighteen months ago I wasn't willing to give up anything, and Castor Strife became the greatest Champion this company had seen in years."
"Eight hours ago, I was faced with the same question."
"What did I give up?"
"Nothing."
"When you have nothing to regret, you have nothing to second guess. Can any of my potential challengers make that same statement?"
"I'll see you all in Berlin."
FADE out on the belt.
