Post by Zack Fantana on Dec 2, 2016 0:44:59 GMT -5
It was truly a sight to behold. The father, a portly gentleman with a chevron mustache and rimless glasses led the pack, dragging his uncooperative daughter by the hand. The girl was stomping her feet every step of the way, whining "But I don't wanna" ad nauseam. She wiped her nose on her father's sleeve. It clearly bothered the father to see this happen but he put on a brave face anyway. Meanwhile the mother, dead-eyed and determined, held her arm outright as her hyperactive boy ran half-circles behind them as far as the child leash would allow.
Zack was riveted.
"Fascinating."
Upon further inspection, each member of the lovely family wore an unflattering "I ♥ NYC" t-shirt, each one being at least one size too big for its owner. The father graciously brought the spectacle to a halt about eight feet away from the stoop in order to pull a map out of his back pocket with his free hand.
"Here we go. Where should we go first?"
As the mother and father huddled up, Fantana soon realized just how long of a leash that kid was on and found the boy right beside him, staring him dead in the eye.
"Who are you? Why are you here? What's that scar from? Why are your eyes crooked?"
Without pause, the boy unleashed a barrage of questions at Zack. Fantana barely had time to comprehend the kid's dialect before he spat out the next question. He couldn't concentrated on the questions anyway because he was too busy trying to evade the sticky fingers of the boy as he waved his arms around wildly at Fantana's duffle bag and shoes.
Finally, the mother and father broke their huddle and noticed that the boy was on the warpath and reeled him in like a fish.
"I'm so sorry."
The dad approached the stoop and extended a hand, which Zack felt obligated to shake.
"Not a problem."
It was a problem. Zack noticed a dirty handprint on his duffle bag and leaned down to wipe it off.
"We're looking for the Museum of Natural History. Could you point us in the right direction?"
"Oh man, that's on 79th. You've got a long ways to go."
Zack pointed in the direction from whence they came. With a sigh, the dad reconvened with his wife and they began to head back up the sidewalk.
"Might want to take a cab!"
Zack's advice fell on deaf ears as the daughter was once again shouting with displeasure.
"Fucking tourists."
Zack leaned over to wipe the grime off his shoes before hearing footsteps approach.
"So the prodigal son returns."
Zack turned around to see the titular Rico of the cleverly titled Rico's Gym. The two men shook hands. This time it was heartfelt.
"My Curves membership expired."
"You know that's a women's gym, right?"
"It's 2016, my man."
The look on Rico's face made it clear he wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean. Zack lifted his duffle bag off the step with his left hand and tossed his right over Rico's shoulder as they walked up the steps. At the top, Rico removed his keys from his jacket and unlocked the door to the gym.
It was 2016 but this place still looked like it trapped in the '70s. Most of the equipment was older than he was. In truth, the place was a sty but it was in this gym that Zack's career renaissance had begun just a few short months ago. It meant something to him.
"You forgot your belt?"
Zack rolled his eyes. He was tired of having to explain the reasoning behind that particular issue.
"This is a shady part of town."
"Come on, you've got to bring it in."
"Yeah, yeah, I know your last celebrity endorsement was Tony Danza. I'll bring it."
"Alright... well, enough talk. Let's get started."
The duffle bag hit the floor. Fade to black.
"I've been hearing a lot of funny things lately. I think it was Amis Shelton who first awakened me to this growing perception around the roster... The notion that Resilience fighters don't belong in the same ring as Paramount fighters. The notion that the Paramount division is better than the Resilience division."
With sweat dripping down his forehead, Zack begins to peel the tape off his right hand with his teeth before he can grab a hold of it with his left hand.
"Based on what, exactly? The name? Congratulations, you got fooled by a buzzword. Kudos to the Paramount division marketing team. They really sold you a bill of goods, folks, because from what I can see, winning and keeping a hold of the Resilience title is still the greatest challenge in this company.
Since a good chunk of you lack minds of your own, I'm going to tell you why that's the case. It's pretty simple. You have two championships. One is defended twice as often as the other. Which will prove to be the biggest test as the champion? If you answered the one defended half as frequently, I'm going to ask the A.W.E. catering table to revoke your privileges to use sharp utensils. I think the truth is pretty evident. And yet I've heard so many people say contrary several times over the past couple weeks in anticipation of the first round of the Alpha Cup. Many of these Paramount division fighters will puff themselves up and attempt to convince everyone that the Resilience division is second tier, despite the fact that the majority of them have proven little more in this company than the fact that they really enjoy hearing the sound of their own voices. Christ, some of them haven't even stepped into the ring. Meanwhile, it was baptism by fire for your Resilience Champion from night one in the A.W.E., with each fight upping the stakes and raising the odds.
On Massacre #1, I won the tournament to claim the title, defeating four people in the process. Two weeks later, I'm defending the title against the entire division and I outlast each and every one of them. First in the ring and last out. And there's still people who have the gall to call me unworthy. To call me a paper champion."
With a forced smile, Zack pulls his right glove off and then begins to remove the tape on the left.
"I guess some of you have got a short memory so allow me to jog it for you. I'm going to go out there and prove why I'm the Resilience Champion each and every show. And while your Paramount Champion is standing around, dick in hand, waiting for the next title match to be booked, I'm going to be the one taking on the next challenger. And the next, and the next, and the next, until you've all forgotten that the Resilience Champion was ever anything more than a subheading under my name.
That may sound ostentatious to some of you. I suppose it's easier to hide a chip on your shoulder if you've got a championship belt to cover it up, but as many of you have repeatedly made note of, I don't have that going for me. So, yes, I'm petty. I'm stubborn. I hold a grudge. But that bullheadedness is precisely what's going to drive me through the Alpha Cup tournament. And when I win that Alpha Cup, trust that I'm not going to put that title shot in my back pocket and save it for a rainy day. I'd gladly come after the Paramount Champion as soon as possible.
But that's a story for another day. Let's talk about Round 1 and Amis Fucking Shelton, the man who first opened my eyes to the twisted notion that the Resilience division is the second tier. Amis claims that he could have gone to the Paramount division but he wanted to start at 'the bottom'."
There's that smile again, although the eyes display nothing but contempt.
"Let me ask you something, Amis. Why would you sign up for a division that you clearly believe is beneath you? I'm not quite sure what your motivations really are, Amis. Are you a tourist? Maybe you get the publicity you want and then decide to pack your bags for greener pastures. Maybe you're just here to get your name out there to a brand new audience. I've got to admit that it's been working thus far, given that you're headlining Massacre with me for the second straight show. The A.W.E. is certainly treating you like the superstar that you believe yourself to be. It may pale in comparison to how they treat you at Extreme Wrestling Corporation, where they hand out Audis like free candy at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, but - I don't know if you've noticed - that parade doesn't come around this part of town."
Zack points around the dingy gym.
"If you're looking for a consolation prize in the A.W.E., sorry, but you aren't gonna find one. There is but one champion in the Resilience division and you're looking at him. One champ and the rest have an empty plate, because the turkey drives are over, folks. The A.W.E. doesn't share that 'meal on every plate' philosophy. But we do have a T-shirt for you."
Zack leans over and withdraws an "I ♥ the A.W.E." T-shirt from his duffle bag. XXL, just like the tourists love them.
"So are you just here for the free T-shirt and schwag or are you here to stay? I've been mulling this over for a while now and I honestly can't crack you. One minute, you're skirting your media commitments and the next you're claiming you want to build this company from the ground up. I know that you've got what it takes to lead a promotion. You've done it before... but you haven't done it here, Amis. Not yet. So if you want to look down your nose at this division, I'll allow it... but you damn well better prove that you can hang with the reigning champion. Until then, you're just another pretender to the throne. Another voice in the choir of empty promises and false claims in the A.W.E.
I'm going to give you the opportunity to prove yourself, Amis. You wanted to start at the bottom? I'll send you there."