Post by Ryan Blade on Aug 17, 2013 20:39:12 GMT
{Open up on a shot from of a well-lit and prestine looking twenty-four hour gym. It's dark outside and the clock on the wall points to it being two in the morning. Inside, we find Ryan Blade hard at work on the weight machine, pulling a decent amount of weight before letting it drop back down. It's not normal to see Blade working out... it's not really his thing. When the business comes to you as naturally as it does to him, you don't have to work too hard to get ahead. But with so much on his mind lately, he needed a way to escape for a bit.}
Being the biggest star in Imperial.
Leaving his mom and starting out on his own.
The strained relationship with his brother.
And having an angsty teenage girl along for the rid.
What once seemed like it would be the thrill of a lifetime has quickly proven to be much more than he ever thought it would be. It's not all fun and games in the real world, and Ryan is learning that. As he pulls down and lifts the weight again, he thinks about his big title defense this weekend, and the three opponents he'll be facing. Three more obstacles to come, but none too big to conquer. If only there were someone there for morale support. Sure Chelsea is there, but she's got her hands full with sister drama.
I guess having no father is better than what they've been through.
Blade drops the weight and leans forward, grabbing a towel from the floor and dabbing some sweat from his forehead. He looks down at the floor and takes a minute to enjoy the peace. Suddenly a crash and a yell are heard, and Blade looks over to see that some average joe looking guy had dropped a weight on his foot.
The Man of Steel laughs.
I mean... the business and life may want him to grow up, but he's still immature. And dropping a weight on your foot like that? Classic. He watches while someone checks on the man and helps him hobble over to a weight bench to inspect the foot. When Blade turns his head back he finds himself looking dead ahead at a sternum. As he looks up, he spies someone he recognizes.
Chase.
What's he doing here?}
________________________________________________________________________________
"So apparently I'm being punished for my success. Or at least that's what everyone keeps telling me. I guess I flew too close to the sun or made this championship too meaningful, because for some reason, it seems like the new Man of Steel boss is trying to make an example of me. So I guess I have to apologize for making the division actually look important, instead of being just another flash-in-the-pan like everyone wanted me to be.
I lied. Actually, I'm sorry, I'm not sorry.
Well.. that's a lie too.
See, I don't apologize for my successes. I don't apologize for not paying my dues like everyone seems to believe I should, and falling in line with the rest of the roster. When you're this damn good, you don't pay dues, and you sure as hell don't fade into the background. Week in and week out, I go into that ring and make this Man of Steel Title look better than any other title in this company.
Including our triumphant Imperial Champion.
And now I'm getting punished for it?
One of the announcers said that Robert Quinn was stacking the deck against me this week, by having me face not one, not two, but three different opponents.
Original, right? At this point, it'd be weird if I wasn't facing multiple opponents. It's how I got to the belt in the first place. But if this is Robert Quinn's idea of 'stacking the deck', well... remind me to play poker with this guy sometime. If this is the hand he's dealing me, I like my odds.
Because in a company where we have 'Aces', 'Queens', and 'Kings', there's only one card that trumps them all. The Wild Card. The thing that completely screws up your plans, and ruins your game.
And that's what I'm going to do this Sunday.
All three of my opponents have these... delusions of how things are going to go at Legacy, and how their careers are going to turn around. I mean... Deathtrain's been on the hunt for gold since the second he signed his contract. He's chased the Imperial Title, he's chased the Tag Team Titles, and now he's after my belt. The big oof still thinks that after all his failures so far, he still deserves to get a shot at my championship.
Bitch, you don't deserve to look at my belt.
I am so sick and tired of loser after loser coming on TV and saying they deserve a shot at the title, and then actually getting one. I mean... you look at all three of my opponents this weekend, and tell me exactly who they've beaten, and what they've done so far in Imperial Wrestling. Anybody? Anything good to say about these three?
At least I haven't beaten you yet, D-Train, but everyone else sure as heck has. You'd think someone as big, strong, and ugly as you are would actually be able to do something here, but that doesn't seem to be the case. Time after time you've talked about being the judge, jury, and executioner here in IWF, but time after time it's been proven that you're all talk. People say I talk a lot, and I do, but at least I actually do what I say I'm going to do. You can make all the idle threats you want, but at the end of the day, what has it amounted to?
Well... you got shot at a title, so I guess that's something.
And now I'm supposed to be scared of you because you look and talk like a thug? I don't need to look mean, Train. I don't need to talk mean either. Eventually you're going to come around to learning what I learned already in life. You can talk all you want, but unless you live up to your words, nobody gives a damn what you say. And more importantly, nobody is afraid of you.
The idea that you deserve a title shot? That's the real scary thought."
________________________________________________________________________________
{Blade gets off of the weight machine and finds himself standing just a few feet away from his brother, Chase. The blonde older brother of Ryan Blade smiles wide and walks up, grabbing his brother in for a big bearhug. Blade remains stone-faced until the hug breaks, and he uses the towel to wipe off his arms.}
Ryan Blade: "What are you doing here?"
Chase: "No 'Hi! How are you?' or 'How's life?' That's not much of a greeting, little brother."
Ryan Blade: "Again, what are you doing here?"
Chase: "Well I know you heard that I quit my job, and I had some free time, so I thought 'You know what I should do? Fly into Detroit and support my brother before his big Pay-Per-View title defense.' So here I am. I'm going to support you so hard."
Ryan Blade: "Nobody comes to Detroit willingly..."
Chase: "I did, so that should say something about my dedication to you as a brother. I'm going to be here for you man, and I'm going to be in the front row on Sunday, watching you do your thing. Kicking butts and reigning supreme."
Ryan Blade: "And how did you know I'd be here?"
Chase: "Chelsea told me."
Ryan Blade: "Remind me to 'thank' her for this."
{Ryan and Chase stand awkwardly for a moment, before the Imperial Wrestling star grabs his belongings and starts to head back to the lockerroom, but before he can, he hears his brother's voice come from behind.}
Chase: "Little bro."
{Blade, annoyed, sighs and turns back around.}
Ryan Blade: "What?"
Chase: "We need to talk."
Ryan Blade: "I don't think we do."
{Chase looks his brother in the eye.}
Chase: "It's about mom."
{We fade out.}
________________________________________________________________________________
"When you think about it like that, this whole match is downright terrifying. Imperial's been open for what... a few months now, and I'm already facing Seth Evans for the third time. Remind me again of what happened the other two times we faced each other. I seem to recall you talking about how much you needed to beat me, and would beat me, but I can't quite remember how those matches turned out for you. Let me check wikipedia....
Oh wait! That's right! I beat you both times!
Wow. This must be embarassing. I mean... I know I'd feel pretty low knowing that I was getting a title shot against a guy who beat me like he was my step-dad. Seriously, Seth... you own grandmother has to think that you getting a shot at the belt is ridiculous. What could honestly be the argument for you deserving this opportunity?
You improved since the first week?
You beat Robert Quinn in Halo and a title shot was his end of the bet?
You're slightly more qualified to be champion than the camera guy?
It blows my mind that you could stand there and look me in the eyes and say with a straight face that you deserve to be in that ring with me at Legacy. You have no idea how unbelievably frustrating it is to keep proving yourself against the same guy, only to have to face him again, this time with your most prized possession on the line. You got this shot by taking a beating from me like no one else. It's not even that you're a bad wrestler, Seth... it's that you're not a great wrestler.
And I am great.
You know that better than anyone at this point.
So what I want you to do over these next few days is simple. It's almost a little homework assignment for you. Tonight after you shut off your Xbox, but before you say your bedtime prayers, I want you to look at yourself in the mirror. I want you to stare long and hard at yourself, and I want you to psych yourself up. I want you to convince yourself that you deserve this opportunity, and that you're going to beat me once and for all on Sunday. Then I want you to go to sleep and dream about that one special moment when you beat Ryan Blade and get that gold around your waist.
I want you as confident as ever when you step through those ropes at Legacy. I want the best Seth Evans you can be!
And then I'm going to beat all that confidence right out of you. I'm going to kick you in the brain, and I'm going to make you regret the day you went to the boss and begged for another match with the champ. I'm going to steal all that pride and bravado away from you, just like you stole my chance to have an actual worthy challenger away from me.
It's funny... you could take almost everything I said about Evans, and find + replace it with 'Davey Ortega', and it'd all still be accurate.
Should I be offended that this is how much IWF thinks of me? Sticking me with two guys I've already beaten and the guy that well... everyone else has already beaten?
You brought everything you had at me last week, Davey, and you really gave me a run for my money. Truthfully it was one of the toughest matches I've had this far, and it could have went either way.
...but it didn't.
So tell me what that's like, Davey. What's it like knowing that you gave it your all and it still wasn't enough to beat me? That has to be a kick in the balls, right? The fresh-faced rookie went toe-to-toe with the hall of famer, and I embarassed you. I embarassed you, Davey! You were so sure that you were going to beat me... you had the whole thing planned out... and you failed.
Story of your life, right?
Because that's what you're most known for, isn't it? Being good, but not good enough. You've never been to the top of the mountain, and you thought this was going to be your time to get there. You'd be out from under the thumb of former bosses, and you'd finally be able to shine. But it's not going to be different. As good as you are, you'll never be as good as me. You could cut through the roster like a knife through butter, and I'd still be there to over shadow you.
You've made your intentions perfectly clear. You want to win my title... you want to take over the company... take over the world of wrestling. You want the name 'Davey Ortega' to be bigger than any other name, and you want to make them forget about all of your former enemies.
But you aren't Trent Helms.
You aren't Spike Kane.
And you sure as hell aren't Ryan Blade.
You're a smart guy, Ortega, so I'm sure you know there's a thin line between genius and madness. Over the years you've mastered that walk, and you've firmly positioned yourself right in the center... on the balance of chaos. But if you actually think you're going to win on Sunday, you're certifiable.
This Sunday I face off against three guys who would be an incredible challenge for any normal man. So I'll just go out there and prove once again that I'm anything but normal.
If IWF wants to 'stack the deck' on me, they'll just have to wait and see what I've got up my sleeve."
Being the biggest star in Imperial.
Leaving his mom and starting out on his own.
The strained relationship with his brother.
And having an angsty teenage girl along for the rid.
What once seemed like it would be the thrill of a lifetime has quickly proven to be much more than he ever thought it would be. It's not all fun and games in the real world, and Ryan is learning that. As he pulls down and lifts the weight again, he thinks about his big title defense this weekend, and the three opponents he'll be facing. Three more obstacles to come, but none too big to conquer. If only there were someone there for morale support. Sure Chelsea is there, but she's got her hands full with sister drama.
I guess having no father is better than what they've been through.
Blade drops the weight and leans forward, grabbing a towel from the floor and dabbing some sweat from his forehead. He looks down at the floor and takes a minute to enjoy the peace. Suddenly a crash and a yell are heard, and Blade looks over to see that some average joe looking guy had dropped a weight on his foot.
The Man of Steel laughs.
I mean... the business and life may want him to grow up, but he's still immature. And dropping a weight on your foot like that? Classic. He watches while someone checks on the man and helps him hobble over to a weight bench to inspect the foot. When Blade turns his head back he finds himself looking dead ahead at a sternum. As he looks up, he spies someone he recognizes.
Chase.
What's he doing here?}
________________________________________________________________________________
"So apparently I'm being punished for my success. Or at least that's what everyone keeps telling me. I guess I flew too close to the sun or made this championship too meaningful, because for some reason, it seems like the new Man of Steel boss is trying to make an example of me. So I guess I have to apologize for making the division actually look important, instead of being just another flash-in-the-pan like everyone wanted me to be.
I lied. Actually, I'm sorry, I'm not sorry.
Well.. that's a lie too.
See, I don't apologize for my successes. I don't apologize for not paying my dues like everyone seems to believe I should, and falling in line with the rest of the roster. When you're this damn good, you don't pay dues, and you sure as hell don't fade into the background. Week in and week out, I go into that ring and make this Man of Steel Title look better than any other title in this company.
Including our triumphant Imperial Champion.
And now I'm getting punished for it?
One of the announcers said that Robert Quinn was stacking the deck against me this week, by having me face not one, not two, but three different opponents.
Original, right? At this point, it'd be weird if I wasn't facing multiple opponents. It's how I got to the belt in the first place. But if this is Robert Quinn's idea of 'stacking the deck', well... remind me to play poker with this guy sometime. If this is the hand he's dealing me, I like my odds.
Because in a company where we have 'Aces', 'Queens', and 'Kings', there's only one card that trumps them all. The Wild Card. The thing that completely screws up your plans, and ruins your game.
And that's what I'm going to do this Sunday.
All three of my opponents have these... delusions of how things are going to go at Legacy, and how their careers are going to turn around. I mean... Deathtrain's been on the hunt for gold since the second he signed his contract. He's chased the Imperial Title, he's chased the Tag Team Titles, and now he's after my belt. The big oof still thinks that after all his failures so far, he still deserves to get a shot at my championship.
Bitch, you don't deserve to look at my belt.
I am so sick and tired of loser after loser coming on TV and saying they deserve a shot at the title, and then actually getting one. I mean... you look at all three of my opponents this weekend, and tell me exactly who they've beaten, and what they've done so far in Imperial Wrestling. Anybody? Anything good to say about these three?
At least I haven't beaten you yet, D-Train, but everyone else sure as heck has. You'd think someone as big, strong, and ugly as you are would actually be able to do something here, but that doesn't seem to be the case. Time after time you've talked about being the judge, jury, and executioner here in IWF, but time after time it's been proven that you're all talk. People say I talk a lot, and I do, but at least I actually do what I say I'm going to do. You can make all the idle threats you want, but at the end of the day, what has it amounted to?
Well... you got shot at a title, so I guess that's something.
And now I'm supposed to be scared of you because you look and talk like a thug? I don't need to look mean, Train. I don't need to talk mean either. Eventually you're going to come around to learning what I learned already in life. You can talk all you want, but unless you live up to your words, nobody gives a damn what you say. And more importantly, nobody is afraid of you.
The idea that you deserve a title shot? That's the real scary thought."
________________________________________________________________________________
{Blade gets off of the weight machine and finds himself standing just a few feet away from his brother, Chase. The blonde older brother of Ryan Blade smiles wide and walks up, grabbing his brother in for a big bearhug. Blade remains stone-faced until the hug breaks, and he uses the towel to wipe off his arms.}
Ryan Blade: "What are you doing here?"
Chase: "No 'Hi! How are you?' or 'How's life?' That's not much of a greeting, little brother."
Ryan Blade: "Again, what are you doing here?"
Chase: "Well I know you heard that I quit my job, and I had some free time, so I thought 'You know what I should do? Fly into Detroit and support my brother before his big Pay-Per-View title defense.' So here I am. I'm going to support you so hard."
Ryan Blade: "Nobody comes to Detroit willingly..."
Chase: "I did, so that should say something about my dedication to you as a brother. I'm going to be here for you man, and I'm going to be in the front row on Sunday, watching you do your thing. Kicking butts and reigning supreme."
Ryan Blade: "And how did you know I'd be here?"
Chase: "Chelsea told me."
Ryan Blade: "Remind me to 'thank' her for this."
{Ryan and Chase stand awkwardly for a moment, before the Imperial Wrestling star grabs his belongings and starts to head back to the lockerroom, but before he can, he hears his brother's voice come from behind.}
Chase: "Little bro."
{Blade, annoyed, sighs and turns back around.}
Ryan Blade: "What?"
Chase: "We need to talk."
Ryan Blade: "I don't think we do."
{Chase looks his brother in the eye.}
Chase: "It's about mom."
{We fade out.}
________________________________________________________________________________
"When you think about it like that, this whole match is downright terrifying. Imperial's been open for what... a few months now, and I'm already facing Seth Evans for the third time. Remind me again of what happened the other two times we faced each other. I seem to recall you talking about how much you needed to beat me, and would beat me, but I can't quite remember how those matches turned out for you. Let me check wikipedia....
Oh wait! That's right! I beat you both times!
Wow. This must be embarassing. I mean... I know I'd feel pretty low knowing that I was getting a title shot against a guy who beat me like he was my step-dad. Seriously, Seth... you own grandmother has to think that you getting a shot at the belt is ridiculous. What could honestly be the argument for you deserving this opportunity?
You improved since the first week?
You beat Robert Quinn in Halo and a title shot was his end of the bet?
You're slightly more qualified to be champion than the camera guy?
It blows my mind that you could stand there and look me in the eyes and say with a straight face that you deserve to be in that ring with me at Legacy. You have no idea how unbelievably frustrating it is to keep proving yourself against the same guy, only to have to face him again, this time with your most prized possession on the line. You got this shot by taking a beating from me like no one else. It's not even that you're a bad wrestler, Seth... it's that you're not a great wrestler.
And I am great.
You know that better than anyone at this point.
So what I want you to do over these next few days is simple. It's almost a little homework assignment for you. Tonight after you shut off your Xbox, but before you say your bedtime prayers, I want you to look at yourself in the mirror. I want you to stare long and hard at yourself, and I want you to psych yourself up. I want you to convince yourself that you deserve this opportunity, and that you're going to beat me once and for all on Sunday. Then I want you to go to sleep and dream about that one special moment when you beat Ryan Blade and get that gold around your waist.
I want you as confident as ever when you step through those ropes at Legacy. I want the best Seth Evans you can be!
And then I'm going to beat all that confidence right out of you. I'm going to kick you in the brain, and I'm going to make you regret the day you went to the boss and begged for another match with the champ. I'm going to steal all that pride and bravado away from you, just like you stole my chance to have an actual worthy challenger away from me.
It's funny... you could take almost everything I said about Evans, and find + replace it with 'Davey Ortega', and it'd all still be accurate.
Should I be offended that this is how much IWF thinks of me? Sticking me with two guys I've already beaten and the guy that well... everyone else has already beaten?
You brought everything you had at me last week, Davey, and you really gave me a run for my money. Truthfully it was one of the toughest matches I've had this far, and it could have went either way.
...but it didn't.
So tell me what that's like, Davey. What's it like knowing that you gave it your all and it still wasn't enough to beat me? That has to be a kick in the balls, right? The fresh-faced rookie went toe-to-toe with the hall of famer, and I embarassed you. I embarassed you, Davey! You were so sure that you were going to beat me... you had the whole thing planned out... and you failed.
Story of your life, right?
Because that's what you're most known for, isn't it? Being good, but not good enough. You've never been to the top of the mountain, and you thought this was going to be your time to get there. You'd be out from under the thumb of former bosses, and you'd finally be able to shine. But it's not going to be different. As good as you are, you'll never be as good as me. You could cut through the roster like a knife through butter, and I'd still be there to over shadow you.
You've made your intentions perfectly clear. You want to win my title... you want to take over the company... take over the world of wrestling. You want the name 'Davey Ortega' to be bigger than any other name, and you want to make them forget about all of your former enemies.
But you aren't Trent Helms.
You aren't Spike Kane.
And you sure as hell aren't Ryan Blade.
You're a smart guy, Ortega, so I'm sure you know there's a thin line between genius and madness. Over the years you've mastered that walk, and you've firmly positioned yourself right in the center... on the balance of chaos. But if you actually think you're going to win on Sunday, you're certifiable.
This Sunday I face off against three guys who would be an incredible challenge for any normal man. So I'll just go out there and prove once again that I'm anything but normal.
If IWF wants to 'stack the deck' on me, they'll just have to wait and see what I've got up my sleeve."
Well howdy there pardner.