Post by Cable Arcane on Jul 28, 2017 1:27:18 GMT
Chapter Six.
His name was Jimmy Snart.
Among the legends of our business who made it beyond the independent scene he was known as “The Con-Man”. Ready, willing and able to take any young dumb up and comer in the business and sell them a truck load of snake oil. I once heard a rumor that he talked a former client into a death match in Japan just to collect the life insurance money.
Needless to say as the overweight man with the receding hair line and cheap suit sat across from me with a sly smirk I didn’t exactly feel reassured that he was “here to help.”
“Mr. Arcane-“He said while extending his hand toward me, “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jimmy Snart.”
I accepted his handshake and I swear a shiver ran down my spine, “So I heard.”
Jimmy sat back smugly as he lifted up a tattered old brief case, “I heard about your predicament-“
I cut him off before he could continue, ”How?”
Snart looked surprised then simply smiled as he replied, “I like to my ear to the ground.” Fair enough I thought but I still didn’t trust him.
“Look Mr. Arcane, these are some serious charges being brought against you-“ I interjected again, “And you think you can help, how?”
“Well if you’d let me finish,” Jimmy seemed stifled by my questioning but I needed to know everything I could about what was happening. “These are some serious charges, manslaughter in the first degree? They’re talking about twenty years, easy.”
“Twenty years?” I stammered, the shocking realization of how this could impact the rest of my life.
“At the very least.” Snart visibly held back a smile, “Could very easily be worse if we fight this.”
“If?” I was suddenly angry, did this fat little fucker actually think I was guilty?
“The evidence against you is pretty damning.” Again that smirk showed up.
I spoke through clenched teeth, “What evidence?”
“Footage.” He chirped, “I’m not even sure why they are taking their time with this, it’s essentially an open and shut case.”
“I want to see the footage.” I could feel my blood boiling as this abortion of a man basked in my unknowing state of being.
“I’ll see what I can-“
My fists slammed against the steel table and startled him,”NO! If you want to represent me you’ll get me the footage!” I barked at him but even this seemed to fuel him.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Jimmy stood up with a grin and I couldn’t help but feel I just walked right into a trap…
Who the fuck do you think you are?
Who the fuck is the Council?
Some collection of Comic Con losers who forgot to put on their Heath Ledger make up and matching underware?
Who the fuck do you think you are to TOUCH ME!?
I am Cable Arcane. I am fucking excellence personified. I am the epitome of professional wrestling. I’m every neck beard at homes wet dream come true. A professional wrestler through and through whose only goal is to be the Best in the World.
SO WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO TOUCH ME!?
Some pissed off former victim of the Blood God?
Some washed up never was from a promotion everyone wishes they could forget?
And Jason Sandman, the greatest wrestler to never do anything worth fucking remembering.
That’s who the Council is. An empty partnership of four incredibly dissimilar people whose only goal is to recite the poor man’s version of Christopher Nolan dialogue from an eight year old fucking movie.
You know what I think of when I see the Council?
What’s the fucking point?
You have no goal, you have no purpose, your reasoning is as empty as your fucking threats, case in point I’m STILL FUCKING STANDING! You had me dead to rights backstage and instead of finishing the job like fucking men you walked away like a punch of dickless teenagers spray painting your name on a bridge. Too fucking scared to blow the bitch up and cause some real chaos.
Everytime I have to listen to one of you speak I’m left wondering what the fuck did I just hear?
What the fuck did any of them just say?
I mean, I’m glad Ulf has watched Vikings a bunch of times and Jason Sandman made a career out of being Captain Howdy’s personal pin cushion but what the fuck is the point of any of you speaking?
Spike, Mike and I may not like each other but when we talk there is a point, when we wrestle there is a reason, each of us wants to be the very best who has ever lived. We may disagree on who the best is but at least we can all agree that that is why we step into the ring.
As far as I can tell Xavier Cross only gets into a ring to look like a fucking clown.
Sandman only steps into a ring because he loves getting his ass whipped.
And Kole? I honestly don’t think he knows what he’s doing at this point, he’s just in a constant state of roid rage moving ever closer to his heart exploding like a fire cracker.
Let me explain something to you. Let me explain just how badly you have fucked up.
You are not stepping into the ring with talented individuals. We are the walking, talking definition of hard work. Talent doesn’t exist on our side of the ring, it isn't fucking necessary. Talent is an empty term
WE ARE FUCKING OBSESSED!
And if you come at us trying to match "talent", trying to be our equals inside of that ring at literally any aspect of the game then we will knock you the fuck out. You cannot be our equals at anything that resembles a professional wrestling match. You cannot be our equals inside of that ring. You cannot be our equals because-
WE HAVE NO EQUALS.
Obsession is what you get when you have a purpose, a goal, a reason for waking up every day at the crack of dawn. When you are obsessed with this business, like we are, when you literally live and breath this business, when you ARE professional wrestling, when your life revolves around that ring, honing your skills, constantly striving to get better every single minute of every single day then no man is your equal.
At that point being unbeatable within those ropes becomes a state of mind and there's nothing you can do topple it. Our greatness is a goddman belief, a fact of life and the three of you?
You lost this battle the second you decided to fuck with us.
Enjoy mediocrity, remember to tell the kids at your next high school autograph signing who sent you there.
No sleep. No rest. Do whatever it takes to be the best.
Who the fuck is the Council?
Some collection of Comic Con losers who forgot to put on their Heath Ledger make up and matching underware?
Who the fuck do you think you are to TOUCH ME!?
I am Cable Arcane. I am fucking excellence personified. I am the epitome of professional wrestling. I’m every neck beard at homes wet dream come true. A professional wrestler through and through whose only goal is to be the Best in the World.
SO WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO TOUCH ME!?
Some pissed off former victim of the Blood God?
Some washed up never was from a promotion everyone wishes they could forget?
And Jason Sandman, the greatest wrestler to never do anything worth fucking remembering.
That’s who the Council is. An empty partnership of four incredibly dissimilar people whose only goal is to recite the poor man’s version of Christopher Nolan dialogue from an eight year old fucking movie.
You know what I think of when I see the Council?
What’s the fucking point?
You have no goal, you have no purpose, your reasoning is as empty as your fucking threats, case in point I’m STILL FUCKING STANDING! You had me dead to rights backstage and instead of finishing the job like fucking men you walked away like a punch of dickless teenagers spray painting your name on a bridge. Too fucking scared to blow the bitch up and cause some real chaos.
Everytime I have to listen to one of you speak I’m left wondering what the fuck did I just hear?
What the fuck did any of them just say?
I mean, I’m glad Ulf has watched Vikings a bunch of times and Jason Sandman made a career out of being Captain Howdy’s personal pin cushion but what the fuck is the point of any of you speaking?
Spike, Mike and I may not like each other but when we talk there is a point, when we wrestle there is a reason, each of us wants to be the very best who has ever lived. We may disagree on who the best is but at least we can all agree that that is why we step into the ring.
As far as I can tell Xavier Cross only gets into a ring to look like a fucking clown.
Sandman only steps into a ring because he loves getting his ass whipped.
And Kole? I honestly don’t think he knows what he’s doing at this point, he’s just in a constant state of roid rage moving ever closer to his heart exploding like a fire cracker.
Let me explain something to you. Let me explain just how badly you have fucked up.
You are not stepping into the ring with talented individuals. We are the walking, talking definition of hard work. Talent doesn’t exist on our side of the ring, it isn't fucking necessary. Talent is an empty term
WE ARE FUCKING OBSESSED!
And if you come at us trying to match "talent", trying to be our equals inside of that ring at literally any aspect of the game then we will knock you the fuck out. You cannot be our equals at anything that resembles a professional wrestling match. You cannot be our equals inside of that ring. You cannot be our equals because-
WE HAVE NO EQUALS.
Obsession is what you get when you have a purpose, a goal, a reason for waking up every day at the crack of dawn. When you are obsessed with this business, like we are, when you literally live and breath this business, when you ARE professional wrestling, when your life revolves around that ring, honing your skills, constantly striving to get better every single minute of every single day then no man is your equal.
At that point being unbeatable within those ropes becomes a state of mind and there's nothing you can do topple it. Our greatness is a goddman belief, a fact of life and the three of you?
You lost this battle the second you decided to fuck with us.
Enjoy mediocrity, remember to tell the kids at your next high school autograph signing who sent you there.
No sleep. No rest. Do whatever it takes to be the best.
Well howdy there pardner.