Post by TheLaw on Feb 17, 2017 9:01:01 GMT -5
Dom Lawson's car, the infamous 1994 amaranth Nissan Sentra is parked outside what looks like the worst and cheapest motel in the state of Illinois, if not the whole country. A obsolete, dilapited building, the kind of place usually popular amongst sketchy men and women looking for a fling due to the "No Question Asked" and "Cash Only" policy... Or people who are used to sleep in their car who may find the uncomfortable bed in a filthy room an improvement of their usual sleeping accommodation. And never mind the soundtrack of high-pitched moans and screams audible all night long through the thin walls. Inside one of the rooms, the number one contender for the Resilience Championship is sitting on his bed.
"I heard you talking Dare. I heard you making fun of me, saw you wiping your arse with my picture... And I gotta admit that really was a badass move. God knows how rough and course that paper should have felt on your butthole. And I even listened to your cod psycholgy bullshit... Sure you never told me to fuck myself, and that was kinda disappointing. But all in all, do you know how I feel after all of this? Let me picture it for you."
He was holding a tennis ball in his right hand, and he now tosses it against the wall, catching it with the same hand after the ricochet.
"Everything you said, bounced off me. Sure thing, you may have it some truth here and there, in that river of crap you spew from your mouth. But you said nothing I wasn't already aware of, nothing I wasn't expecting you to say, nothing that really hit the nail on the head, shaking me emotionally. And mind you, this is not me no-selling you, or acting tough... This is me not giving a fuck about what you, or anyone else say. And sorry if I used the f-word again.
Truth is, dear Dare, that I've been in this business for so long now, I have been through so many highs and lows -more of the latter if I'm being honest- that this kind of stuff barely affects me. I don't care about my win/loss record, I don't care about the respect from my peers, I don't care about being recognized when I walk down the street or from a guard in jail... All thing that you consider matters of the highest importance.
I DON'T CARE ABOUT BEING YOU.
I have already been in your shoes, and no, I don't mean during my Oscar-worthy interpretation of Dare Clemmens.
Color yourself surprised, but I've been young too. I've been champion too. I was feeling on the top of the mountain, holding the world in my arms too. But all good things come to an end sooner or later Dare. Some even abruptly, after just two weeks."
Dom stares at the small yellow ball he is squeezing in his hand, a smirk coming up across his face.
"You instead..."
With a swift swing of his arm, he tosses the ball through the window, crushing it and laughing as it falls, alongside the shattered glass, on the underlying parking lot.
"It took me one shot in the right spot to crush through this adorable jerk face you wear. Guess I struck the right chord, didn't I? And now I have you exactly where I want. Out of your comfort zone.
I watched your matches Dare, I'm not stupid. You always walked in with such a high confidence, so smug, so full of yourself. Always playing around, taking your time to entertain your fans, with that smile constantly across your face. But somehow, in the end you managed to grab the win. How so?"
He pauses for a moment, staring at the broken window.
" Becuase you're good kid. I'm not taking it away from you, you know how to fight. But don't expect me to rub your ego telling you how great you are, or how much I respect you. This is the problem with your generation. You keep craving for attention, doing all this crazy stuff inside and outside the ring so that your name can constantly be on the fans' lips. Not saying that you're wrong, we all know how this business works. But it's just not my thing. I tried to it once, and as fun as it was, I felt so stupid being you...
You can keep your funny promos, drop this attitude of not taking things seriously, you can take that cocky smirk off your stupid face and shove it with all the sportsmanship crap up your irritated ass.
I want none of it. I want an angry and aggressive Dare Clemmens, a side of you people never saw, a side you barely knew you had.
Because that's when you will make a mistake. That's when you reveal yourself for what you really are.
A kid who will crumble under the weight that has been put upon his shoulders, unfit to carry this company.
Fragile. Like glass.
Nobody really expect me to win. They never do, that's why it's so easy for me to bounce back after a loss. But you... The pressure is all on you Dare boy. Can you handle it?
I don't think so...
I hope you did your homework kid, i hope you are aware that when you step in the ring with The Law, you can expect the unexpected."
He stands up, stretching before picking up his gym bag from the floor.
"The strong do what they can. The weak suffer what they must."
Dom opens the door, stopping on the threshold.
"Nothing personal Clemmens. But The Law makes no exceptions."
The camera fades to black as Lawson footsteps echo in the empty hallway.
"I heard you talking Dare. I heard you making fun of me, saw you wiping your arse with my picture... And I gotta admit that really was a badass move. God knows how rough and course that paper should have felt on your butthole. And I even listened to your cod psycholgy bullshit... Sure you never told me to fuck myself, and that was kinda disappointing. But all in all, do you know how I feel after all of this? Let me picture it for you."
He was holding a tennis ball in his right hand, and he now tosses it against the wall, catching it with the same hand after the ricochet.
"Everything you said, bounced off me. Sure thing, you may have it some truth here and there, in that river of crap you spew from your mouth. But you said nothing I wasn't already aware of, nothing I wasn't expecting you to say, nothing that really hit the nail on the head, shaking me emotionally. And mind you, this is not me no-selling you, or acting tough... This is me not giving a fuck about what you, or anyone else say. And sorry if I used the f-word again.
Truth is, dear Dare, that I've been in this business for so long now, I have been through so many highs and lows -more of the latter if I'm being honest- that this kind of stuff barely affects me. I don't care about my win/loss record, I don't care about the respect from my peers, I don't care about being recognized when I walk down the street or from a guard in jail... All thing that you consider matters of the highest importance.
I DON'T CARE ABOUT BEING YOU.
I have already been in your shoes, and no, I don't mean during my Oscar-worthy interpretation of Dare Clemmens.
Color yourself surprised, but I've been young too. I've been champion too. I was feeling on the top of the mountain, holding the world in my arms too. But all good things come to an end sooner or later Dare. Some even abruptly, after just two weeks."
Dom stares at the small yellow ball he is squeezing in his hand, a smirk coming up across his face.
"You instead..."
With a swift swing of his arm, he tosses the ball through the window, crushing it and laughing as it falls, alongside the shattered glass, on the underlying parking lot.
"It took me one shot in the right spot to crush through this adorable jerk face you wear. Guess I struck the right chord, didn't I? And now I have you exactly where I want. Out of your comfort zone.
I watched your matches Dare, I'm not stupid. You always walked in with such a high confidence, so smug, so full of yourself. Always playing around, taking your time to entertain your fans, with that smile constantly across your face. But somehow, in the end you managed to grab the win. How so?"
He pauses for a moment, staring at the broken window.
" Becuase you're good kid. I'm not taking it away from you, you know how to fight. But don't expect me to rub your ego telling you how great you are, or how much I respect you. This is the problem with your generation. You keep craving for attention, doing all this crazy stuff inside and outside the ring so that your name can constantly be on the fans' lips. Not saying that you're wrong, we all know how this business works. But it's just not my thing. I tried to it once, and as fun as it was, I felt so stupid being you...
You can keep your funny promos, drop this attitude of not taking things seriously, you can take that cocky smirk off your stupid face and shove it with all the sportsmanship crap up your irritated ass.
I want none of it. I want an angry and aggressive Dare Clemmens, a side of you people never saw, a side you barely knew you had.
Because that's when you will make a mistake. That's when you reveal yourself for what you really are.
A kid who will crumble under the weight that has been put upon his shoulders, unfit to carry this company.
Fragile. Like glass.
Nobody really expect me to win. They never do, that's why it's so easy for me to bounce back after a loss. But you... The pressure is all on you Dare boy. Can you handle it?
I don't think so...
I hope you did your homework kid, i hope you are aware that when you step in the ring with The Law, you can expect the unexpected."
He stands up, stretching before picking up his gym bag from the floor.
"The strong do what they can. The weak suffer what they must."
Dom opens the door, stopping on the threshold.
"Nothing personal Clemmens. But The Law makes no exceptions."
The camera fades to black as Lawson footsteps echo in the empty hallway.