Dark Grit Division
Jan 21, 2018 18:38:03 GMT
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CEO Vincent Pryde, bonnieblue, and 1 more like this
Post by DarkSpectre on Jan 21, 2018 18:38:03 GMT
"I'm a dreamer. I have to dream and reach for the stars, and if I miss a star then I grab a handful of clouds."
Mike Tyson
Mike Tyson
Static gives way to the view of a hotel balcony, overlooking a beautiful cityscape. The camera pans the scene, falling onto a young male who finishes pulling his mask on. He adjusts it ever so slightly, turning to face the camera.
A victory is meant to be celebrated. This is why myself and a select few friends had drinks after my defeat of Nyeo Son. But gloating... Gloating is for the small-minded. Those who seek ONLY to enhance their bravado by basking in a temporary limelight. I assure you, friend and foe alike, this is merely the first few moments into my proverbial fifteen minutes of fame.
Spectre turns, taking a moment. He breathes in the lively air of the city at night, gathering his thoughts.
The name of the game is stamina. You see, I came in two weeks ago, making the mistake of becoming cocky and allowing Masutarou to defeat me. Last week, I learned from my mistakes. Studied my opponents. And in spite of the game changing at the last moment- my best wishes to Alex Richards, e'er he may be- I picked up the win over a very game Nyeo Son, who made the same mistake I did against Shadowlove and Masutarou. And this week, things get interesting. This week, I face a man who is no stranger to the business- in and out of the ring.
Spectre leans over the railing, taking a moment. He strokes his chin, pondering on his task for this coming week.
K.L. Henson has been in the squared circle as a competitor, and outside it as a key figure in management through several feds. Which makes him quite the specimen to stand against.
As an executive for any company, wrestling or otherwise, one must possess a certain level of know-how. One must know the ins and outs of their business, how different aspects of the company propel the greater whole, the value of every movement made by each individual. He has to maintain mental record of the funds coming and going, how these funds are distributed and where, and how to maximize profitability- both in funds and manpower.
It's a tall order, for sure. And K.L. has certainly shown a level of brilliance unlike many in our business. It is not often that I come across a man of such calculation and mental acumen, but here we stand.
Spectre stands straight, nodding. He turns to face the camera, an air of wonder about him.
I suppose this is where the proverbial shit hits the fan, no? The calculating, manipulative executive against the undefined, uncontrollable agent of Chaos. That's what is truly on display this week, is it not? The battle of organization versus confusion, strategy versus spontaneity, reality versus distortion.
I never really much cared for battle plans, K.L. In truth, I often opt to go with the flow and adapt as it comes. Which, to a man like you, is ignorant and downright dangerous. For someone so calculating; being unable to determine my next move is something that will no doubt drive you insane.
I'm sure you're looking through my tapes. Trying to find a pattern, a weakness. But therein is your problem, Henson. You believe weakness to be a rock, a roadblock, an obstacle. A bum knee, a certain repetition in strategy. But that could not be farther from the truth.
You and I are two very opposite ends of the spectrum. Where your planning and strategizing tend to be your greatest strength, it also acts as your greatest weakness. All your planning, attempting to execute every plot just so; this can be exploited and used against you. Manipulated to bring about your downfall.
Me? My strength is that I am unpredictable. My weakness is that even I don't know my next move; hell, watch the tapes. Chaos; I am the master of denying my own willpower. I look strategy in the face, I spit, and I leave destruction in my wake.
Spectre walks into the hotel room, picking up a second mask. He brings it up to the camera, scratching a line of dried blood from the inside. He grins- at least, as best as possible through a mask.
I have no worries for my own physical well-being, Henson. Not a single fuck to give for MY OWN HEALTH. So what does that mean for you, K.L.?
Perhaps you'll try to sway my tendencies with your position. You can give me money, power, opportunities. You can set my family up for life, give my future children the finest cars and homes and such. Or, you can have me fired. Take away the means by which I feed my family. Take away the sport I love so much.
Perhaps you'll appeal to my intellect. Just because I need to win to earn my shot doesn't mean I have to hurt you- much. I give you enough to prove that I deserve my place at Blood Moon Rising and you'll let me have it. Fair enough. I show the world what I am capable of, and that should be good for the night.
Perhaps you'll allow fear to overcome you. Throw everything you have at me, only to keep coming up short. Become more and more fearful as even your best shots fail to keep me down, and you run away to save face. You retreat in terror as you realize that one of the smallest men on the roster may well be THE most dangerous, and you have been inserted in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Spectre slides into the hotel room, the camera following after. He places his spare mask on a desk, sliding a chair out and spinning once around before facing the camera.
This week, the only thing standing between myself and a Tru Grit Championship is KL Henson. This may be the biggest moment yet of my career, and I intend on taking full advantage.
Henson, know that I hold no ill will against you. Your dismemberment will merely be a business transaction; and I assure you I will take little joy in needing to annihilate you inside and out.
Ladies and gentlemen, I will see you at Monday Bloody Monday.
Spectre spins aroind again, a chuckle as he stands. He walks back out to the balcony, overlooking the cityscape as we fade to static.
A victory is meant to be celebrated. This is why myself and a select few friends had drinks after my defeat of Nyeo Son. But gloating... Gloating is for the small-minded. Those who seek ONLY to enhance their bravado by basking in a temporary limelight. I assure you, friend and foe alike, this is merely the first few moments into my proverbial fifteen minutes of fame.
Spectre turns, taking a moment. He breathes in the lively air of the city at night, gathering his thoughts.
The name of the game is stamina. You see, I came in two weeks ago, making the mistake of becoming cocky and allowing Masutarou to defeat me. Last week, I learned from my mistakes. Studied my opponents. And in spite of the game changing at the last moment- my best wishes to Alex Richards, e'er he may be- I picked up the win over a very game Nyeo Son, who made the same mistake I did against Shadowlove and Masutarou. And this week, things get interesting. This week, I face a man who is no stranger to the business- in and out of the ring.
Spectre leans over the railing, taking a moment. He strokes his chin, pondering on his task for this coming week.
K.L. Henson has been in the squared circle as a competitor, and outside it as a key figure in management through several feds. Which makes him quite the specimen to stand against.
As an executive for any company, wrestling or otherwise, one must possess a certain level of know-how. One must know the ins and outs of their business, how different aspects of the company propel the greater whole, the value of every movement made by each individual. He has to maintain mental record of the funds coming and going, how these funds are distributed and where, and how to maximize profitability- both in funds and manpower.
It's a tall order, for sure. And K.L. has certainly shown a level of brilliance unlike many in our business. It is not often that I come across a man of such calculation and mental acumen, but here we stand.
Spectre stands straight, nodding. He turns to face the camera, an air of wonder about him.
I suppose this is where the proverbial shit hits the fan, no? The calculating, manipulative executive against the undefined, uncontrollable agent of Chaos. That's what is truly on display this week, is it not? The battle of organization versus confusion, strategy versus spontaneity, reality versus distortion.
I never really much cared for battle plans, K.L. In truth, I often opt to go with the flow and adapt as it comes. Which, to a man like you, is ignorant and downright dangerous. For someone so calculating; being unable to determine my next move is something that will no doubt drive you insane.
I'm sure you're looking through my tapes. Trying to find a pattern, a weakness. But therein is your problem, Henson. You believe weakness to be a rock, a roadblock, an obstacle. A bum knee, a certain repetition in strategy. But that could not be farther from the truth.
You and I are two very opposite ends of the spectrum. Where your planning and strategizing tend to be your greatest strength, it also acts as your greatest weakness. All your planning, attempting to execute every plot just so; this can be exploited and used against you. Manipulated to bring about your downfall.
Me? My strength is that I am unpredictable. My weakness is that even I don't know my next move; hell, watch the tapes. Chaos; I am the master of denying my own willpower. I look strategy in the face, I spit, and I leave destruction in my wake.
Spectre walks into the hotel room, picking up a second mask. He brings it up to the camera, scratching a line of dried blood from the inside. He grins- at least, as best as possible through a mask.
I have no worries for my own physical well-being, Henson. Not a single fuck to give for MY OWN HEALTH. So what does that mean for you, K.L.?
Perhaps you'll try to sway my tendencies with your position. You can give me money, power, opportunities. You can set my family up for life, give my future children the finest cars and homes and such. Or, you can have me fired. Take away the means by which I feed my family. Take away the sport I love so much.
Perhaps you'll appeal to my intellect. Just because I need to win to earn my shot doesn't mean I have to hurt you- much. I give you enough to prove that I deserve my place at Blood Moon Rising and you'll let me have it. Fair enough. I show the world what I am capable of, and that should be good for the night.
Perhaps you'll allow fear to overcome you. Throw everything you have at me, only to keep coming up short. Become more and more fearful as even your best shots fail to keep me down, and you run away to save face. You retreat in terror as you realize that one of the smallest men on the roster may well be THE most dangerous, and you have been inserted in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Spectre slides into the hotel room, the camera following after. He places his spare mask on a desk, sliding a chair out and spinning once around before facing the camera.
This week, the only thing standing between myself and a Tru Grit Championship is KL Henson. This may be the biggest moment yet of my career, and I intend on taking full advantage.
Henson, know that I hold no ill will against you. Your dismemberment will merely be a business transaction; and I assure you I will take little joy in needing to annihilate you inside and out.
Ladies and gentlemen, I will see you at Monday Bloody Monday.
Spectre spins aroind again, a chuckle as he stands. He walks back out to the balcony, overlooking the cityscape as we fade to static.