Post by Ethan King on Mar 24, 2019 23:47:41 GMT
"Do you mind terribly if I take a moment to address something that's been, frankly, driving me insane?"
Ethan gestures for the cameraman to follow him back to the roulette table, gesturing invitingly for the camera to angle down. It does so, showing a standard design - if extravagant in decoration - Roulette wheel. The small white ball from the previous video remains there, untouched, on the 34 spot.
"You see that? What number is that?"
The cameraman's voice responds from off-camera. "Um... thirty-four?"
Ethan beams.
"Exactly! Thirty four - and that's not even the highest number on the wheel. If you observe, you'll find that the standard European Roulette wheel has 37 pockets, ranging from numbers zero to thirty-six. Do you know what that means?"
The camera slides back and forth as though shaking its head in the negative.
"That means that, if this company made any sort of SENSE, they'd have a match that's named the bloody ROULETTE have thirty-seven entrants instead of this... this 'thirty' nonsense! And that's me being conservative, there's actually an extra pocket in a standard AMERICAN Roulette wheel, likely do to our obsession with going bigger and harder than anyone else in the world. For the love of... did Ace Conway name this match? Given the way he named his own daughters it wouldn't necessarily surprise me, the man's obsessed with naming everything after his gambling addiction... Honestly now, does he want them to grow up to be strippers? They wouldn't even have to change their names..."
He rubs a migraine away before giving a despairing sigh. "Ugh, that's twice I've referenced a man who won't even be IN this bloody thing, unless he's one of the unknown mystery entrants. What is my life?"
He shakes off his frustration, visibly composing himself before leaning back against the roulette table. "See... this is just another example of how things just don't make sense in this company as much as I would so very desperately want them to. There's a disconnect, a lack of understanding - a sense that the people running this place, with some exceptions, just aren't in touch with the world they live in today. Now it's no secret that I've had... let's call them 'spats' with the people who have been in charge of this company. I put a fiddle of gold up against Cable Arcane's soul last year, and cited his weakness as a manager and executive heavily in my cutting criticisms of the man before beating him down. My battle with Roberto Verona didn't go as much in my favor, of course, but... you can't win everything. Some risks yield fruit, while others blow up in your face - it's the nature of business."
He idly adjusts the cuffs of his suit as he grins smugly. "I take a not insignificant amount of pride in my business acumen. CEO of a fortune 500 company, international industries with divisions branching into almost anything you can imagine. King International has only ever flourished since I took my place at the head of the company, and it will continue to do so... in perpetuity. You know those dystopian futures where corporations are more powerful than governments? The stories where CEOs command powerful private armies and wage actual wars with one another for cuts of the market and profit shares? Most people see such things as a grim glimpse of a terrifying future...
... But I see them as an instruction manual."
He cracks his knuckles. "I've been an ambitious little fucker since I was a kid. No dream too big, no goal too high - call it greed, call it hubris, call it the personification of capitalism gone completely insane... my motto for as long as I can remember has been 'The Sky is only the limit for those who are afraid to leave Earth behind.' It's... encapsulated a lot of my mindset with my life - both that there's no such thing as too ambitious a venture... and that you have to be ready to give up on a few things along the way in pursuit of a higher dream."
He slips his hands in his pockets, his gaze briefly drifting off to the side. He smiles softly for a moment before nodding.
"Yeah. To go from making my introduction, fighting the first half of the longest match in IWF history at my in-ring IWF debut at Night of the Immortals last year... to capitalizing off a victory at the Roulette this year, going on to take the highest title of them all exactly one calendar year after the first time I squared off in this company? That's a hell of an ambitious take...
And that's exactly what I'm going to do."
"What... what is this?"
Ethan smirked as he gazed evenly at Laura Howlett across the restaurant table. He was in one of his finest suits, though a bead of sweat was running down the side of his face. He'd had to move rather quickly once he found out where she was having dinner, and he definitely didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to meet with her. She'd not been happy when he showed up unannounced at her table... but she hadn't yet demanded that he leave.
"What's it look like?" Ethan replied.
Laura paged incredulously through the papers. "You... you can't be serious. Ethan, I believe I made myself very clear when we last talked-"
"You were playing hard to get, as I recall," Ethan interjected. "I wouldn't expect anything less from a businesswoman as savvy as yourself! You want to make sure that your investments are both capable and dedicated. I like to believe that I've ensured some faith in my abilities being undiminished by defeating The Clergy rather soundly, and I wanted to make sure you knew that this venture of ours has been singularly on my mind since our meeting."
"It wasn't a meeting," Laura snarled dangerously. "You barged into my office and started TALKING at me, and now you've interrupted my din... how did you even know where to find me?"
Ethan waved as though the point was insignificant. "Bribes to the maitre'd of every tolerable restaurant in the city to keep an eye out for you and call my private line if you made a reservation or arrived unannounced. I was very thorough."
Laura's nostrils flared. "You could have called my secretary."
"Where's the fun in that? Regardless, I wanted to deliver this news personally, and I wanted it to be something of a surprise."
"I could file a restraining order for this, you know that right? This is stalking."
Ethan simply shrugged, and gestured to the file. "Read first. Then make your decision."
Laura glared at him for several long seconds... but eventually relented and opened the folder, actually reading its contents. At first the look of barely-contained fury held strong... but as she continued to read her expression slowly shifted to incredulity.
"This is... you have psychological assessments of every member of the current IWF roster. Estimations of who is most likely to work with... us... who is most likely to immediately resist... you've put thought into this. I... hold on. Ethan?"
Ethan's grin widened, though his voice feigned innocence. "Hm?"
"... Why does the note next to Charity Crowne simply say 'confirmed'?"
Ethan shrugged. "What's that? Oh! Yes, well, that's because she's already agreed to join the House of Howlett. I had a meeting with her just last week and it went phenomenally well."
Laura's mouth fell open as she stared at him for a few seconds.
"She's... Charity Crowne..."
"Has already agreed to join the House of Howlett, yes. I did indicate I would acquire a championship for your venture, didn't I?"
Laura blinked several times, seeming to have lost the ability to speak. "Of course that's before High Stakes," Ethan demured. "I plan to walk out with at least one, if not both of my potential victories... and we will see how things proceed on her front. Either way, I think Charity would be a stellar addition to our organization, don't you?"
Laura swallowed. "I... had been considering courting her... back when... but..."
Ethan waved it off. "Of course you had! You have an eye for the exceptional, Laura, I've always known it. But the dream is now a reality, and it puts is in a stronger position going into the coming year, don't you think?"
Laura blinked again, regaining her composure. After a few seconds, she finally... smiled. "Mr. King... why don't you join me for dinner? It seems... we may have some matters to discuss after all."
"In the end... I've talked a lot already about the people who are in this match with whom I have a personal grudge. Even though there's a few I haven't addressed yet who I have some history with... your Nighthawks and your Cable Mundanes - and yes, I did have to make that obvious cheap shot, thank you VERY much, I do have SOME standards of over the top villainy that I am contractually obligated to maintain - I don't hate them as much as I do the people I've already spoken of. For the rest of you... it's honestly just a matter of business. You're in between me and a shot at glory, and I am more than happy to leave you all behind in pursuit of that cherished goal."
He shrugs. "The majority of you are simply irrelevant. Perhaps that's arrogant of me, but I don't feel particularly inclined to waste a disproportionate amount of breath on the likes of Gen Eric, Freakke, or El Grande Malo. I don't know enough about the likes of Phillip Deforest, Mr. Happy, or Adel Trevent to have an opinion of them - either positive or negative. The group of you are just... there. Technically present because you're needed to fill space. I suppose more than anything else that's the reason why there are only thirty men in a match called The Roulette - because the people running this company, even as it is the greatest professional wrestling federation in the world today, simply don't have a wide enough pool of worthwhile talent to dredge up to something resembling fighting condition.
Even then, there are names among the list of those I don't care greatly about who ARE recognizable and worth paying heed to. Pax Stormcrow is a champion, an Olympic Talent who has proven capable of holding his own against some actually impressive competition. I don't... know him, or have anything interesting to say about him. I'm not going to sit here and think of semi-generic 'oh I'm gonna beat you' lines for a dozen-odd men I don't know, and Pax is one of them. He seems like a good kid. Got some talent. Stay out of my way."
He rolls his eyes. "In the end... it's not about simply putting down everyone in my way. At the end of the day, the real reason... the important reason... that I'm going to be walking out of High Stakes as the winner of the 2019 Roulette isn't some critical weakness in one of my enemies. It's not the fact that everyone's gunning for The Pack, it's not because I'm going to make Rob Diamond scream like a little girl, and its not because I'm gonna run around and hang out in James Gilmore's blind-side making Zoidberg noises just to troll the fuck out of the guy."
He leans against the Roulette table, leveling his eyes at the camera with the posture of a father about to teach his children a life lesson. "The reason I'm going to win is right in front of you - because when push comes to shove, I'm Ethan Fucking King."
He begins counting off on his fingers as he continues. "Wrestling prodigy through high school and college, accolades from the best wrestling schools money can buy, singles and tag-team championship reigns in more independent promotions around the world than I can count - YEARS of experience and training that have brought me to this company. Victories over Hall of Famers like Spike Kane and Cable Arcane. One part of the longest match in IWF History. The man whose one hold beat the master of one-thousand. The man whose will to win, whose will to fight and scrape my way to the top of this company overcame a broken leg in a matter of months. The man who Laura Howlett hand-picked to be at the head of her house, and who will rebuild it on the shattered ruins of The Pack and the Age of Gods. The man who's going to show his two newborn children what their daddy looks like wearing the most prestigious wrestling championship belt in the world.
The man who is smart enough, cunning enough, strong enough, skilled enough, tough enough, and ruthless enough to take his place at the top of this company.
Ethan. Fucking. King."
He slides his hand back in his pockets, looking away from the camera once again and off into the distance.
"There's only... one other name I want to address. Because you deserve it."
He turns and looks at the camera, his expression unusually gentle.
"AJ. No matter what I do, no matter who I fight, no matter what depths I lower myself to... don't forget that I do, and always will, have your back. You've helped me in ways I can't put to words, Andrew."
He leans forward into the camera.
"But if it comes to it... I will take you out of the Roulette myself. Not because I hate you - but because I have to win. There's no middle ground in this game, and I'm putting everything on the line. I'm not going to say 'may the best man win,' because I'm not ashamed to admit that you are by far the better man... but I won't hold back, and I don't expect you to either.
No matter what happens, remember: You are my brother. Now and always."
Ethan's face splits into his traditional smug grin, spreading his arms wide as he cockily tilts his head at the camera. "So that's it. That's all I have - I've said my peace and the die is cast. Only one of us can walk out of the Roulette going to the big match at the greatest stage of them all... and I know I'm going to do everything my warped little mind can think of to make sure it's me. So just remember, kids -
If you're going to come at the King... you'd best not fucking miss."
Ethan gestures for the cameraman to follow him back to the roulette table, gesturing invitingly for the camera to angle down. It does so, showing a standard design - if extravagant in decoration - Roulette wheel. The small white ball from the previous video remains there, untouched, on the 34 spot.
"You see that? What number is that?"
The cameraman's voice responds from off-camera. "Um... thirty-four?"
Ethan beams.
"Exactly! Thirty four - and that's not even the highest number on the wheel. If you observe, you'll find that the standard European Roulette wheel has 37 pockets, ranging from numbers zero to thirty-six. Do you know what that means?"
The camera slides back and forth as though shaking its head in the negative.
"That means that, if this company made any sort of SENSE, they'd have a match that's named the bloody ROULETTE have thirty-seven entrants instead of this... this 'thirty' nonsense! And that's me being conservative, there's actually an extra pocket in a standard AMERICAN Roulette wheel, likely do to our obsession with going bigger and harder than anyone else in the world. For the love of... did Ace Conway name this match? Given the way he named his own daughters it wouldn't necessarily surprise me, the man's obsessed with naming everything after his gambling addiction... Honestly now, does he want them to grow up to be strippers? They wouldn't even have to change their names..."
He rubs a migraine away before giving a despairing sigh. "Ugh, that's twice I've referenced a man who won't even be IN this bloody thing, unless he's one of the unknown mystery entrants. What is my life?"
He shakes off his frustration, visibly composing himself before leaning back against the roulette table. "See... this is just another example of how things just don't make sense in this company as much as I would so very desperately want them to. There's a disconnect, a lack of understanding - a sense that the people running this place, with some exceptions, just aren't in touch with the world they live in today. Now it's no secret that I've had... let's call them 'spats' with the people who have been in charge of this company. I put a fiddle of gold up against Cable Arcane's soul last year, and cited his weakness as a manager and executive heavily in my cutting criticisms of the man before beating him down. My battle with Roberto Verona didn't go as much in my favor, of course, but... you can't win everything. Some risks yield fruit, while others blow up in your face - it's the nature of business."
He idly adjusts the cuffs of his suit as he grins smugly. "I take a not insignificant amount of pride in my business acumen. CEO of a fortune 500 company, international industries with divisions branching into almost anything you can imagine. King International has only ever flourished since I took my place at the head of the company, and it will continue to do so... in perpetuity. You know those dystopian futures where corporations are more powerful than governments? The stories where CEOs command powerful private armies and wage actual wars with one another for cuts of the market and profit shares? Most people see such things as a grim glimpse of a terrifying future...
... But I see them as an instruction manual."
He cracks his knuckles. "I've been an ambitious little fucker since I was a kid. No dream too big, no goal too high - call it greed, call it hubris, call it the personification of capitalism gone completely insane... my motto for as long as I can remember has been 'The Sky is only the limit for those who are afraid to leave Earth behind.' It's... encapsulated a lot of my mindset with my life - both that there's no such thing as too ambitious a venture... and that you have to be ready to give up on a few things along the way in pursuit of a higher dream."
He slips his hands in his pockets, his gaze briefly drifting off to the side. He smiles softly for a moment before nodding.
"Yeah. To go from making my introduction, fighting the first half of the longest match in IWF history at my in-ring IWF debut at Night of the Immortals last year... to capitalizing off a victory at the Roulette this year, going on to take the highest title of them all exactly one calendar year after the first time I squared off in this company? That's a hell of an ambitious take...
And that's exactly what I'm going to do."
"What... what is this?"
Ethan smirked as he gazed evenly at Laura Howlett across the restaurant table. He was in one of his finest suits, though a bead of sweat was running down the side of his face. He'd had to move rather quickly once he found out where she was having dinner, and he definitely didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to meet with her. She'd not been happy when he showed up unannounced at her table... but she hadn't yet demanded that he leave.
"What's it look like?" Ethan replied.
Laura paged incredulously through the papers. "You... you can't be serious. Ethan, I believe I made myself very clear when we last talked-"
"You were playing hard to get, as I recall," Ethan interjected. "I wouldn't expect anything less from a businesswoman as savvy as yourself! You want to make sure that your investments are both capable and dedicated. I like to believe that I've ensured some faith in my abilities being undiminished by defeating The Clergy rather soundly, and I wanted to make sure you knew that this venture of ours has been singularly on my mind since our meeting."
"It wasn't a meeting," Laura snarled dangerously. "You barged into my office and started TALKING at me, and now you've interrupted my din... how did you even know where to find me?"
Ethan waved as though the point was insignificant. "Bribes to the maitre'd of every tolerable restaurant in the city to keep an eye out for you and call my private line if you made a reservation or arrived unannounced. I was very thorough."
Laura's nostrils flared. "You could have called my secretary."
"Where's the fun in that? Regardless, I wanted to deliver this news personally, and I wanted it to be something of a surprise."
"I could file a restraining order for this, you know that right? This is stalking."
Ethan simply shrugged, and gestured to the file. "Read first. Then make your decision."
Laura glared at him for several long seconds... but eventually relented and opened the folder, actually reading its contents. At first the look of barely-contained fury held strong... but as she continued to read her expression slowly shifted to incredulity.
"This is... you have psychological assessments of every member of the current IWF roster. Estimations of who is most likely to work with... us... who is most likely to immediately resist... you've put thought into this. I... hold on. Ethan?"
Ethan's grin widened, though his voice feigned innocence. "Hm?"
"... Why does the note next to Charity Crowne simply say 'confirmed'?"
Ethan shrugged. "What's that? Oh! Yes, well, that's because she's already agreed to join the House of Howlett. I had a meeting with her just last week and it went phenomenally well."
Laura's mouth fell open as she stared at him for a few seconds.
"She's... Charity Crowne..."
"Has already agreed to join the House of Howlett, yes. I did indicate I would acquire a championship for your venture, didn't I?"
Laura blinked several times, seeming to have lost the ability to speak. "Of course that's before High Stakes," Ethan demured. "I plan to walk out with at least one, if not both of my potential victories... and we will see how things proceed on her front. Either way, I think Charity would be a stellar addition to our organization, don't you?"
Laura swallowed. "I... had been considering courting her... back when... but..."
Ethan waved it off. "Of course you had! You have an eye for the exceptional, Laura, I've always known it. But the dream is now a reality, and it puts is in a stronger position going into the coming year, don't you think?"
Laura blinked again, regaining her composure. After a few seconds, she finally... smiled. "Mr. King... why don't you join me for dinner? It seems... we may have some matters to discuss after all."
"In the end... I've talked a lot already about the people who are in this match with whom I have a personal grudge. Even though there's a few I haven't addressed yet who I have some history with... your Nighthawks and your Cable Mundanes - and yes, I did have to make that obvious cheap shot, thank you VERY much, I do have SOME standards of over the top villainy that I am contractually obligated to maintain - I don't hate them as much as I do the people I've already spoken of. For the rest of you... it's honestly just a matter of business. You're in between me and a shot at glory, and I am more than happy to leave you all behind in pursuit of that cherished goal."
He shrugs. "The majority of you are simply irrelevant. Perhaps that's arrogant of me, but I don't feel particularly inclined to waste a disproportionate amount of breath on the likes of Gen Eric, Freakke, or El Grande Malo. I don't know enough about the likes of Phillip Deforest, Mr. Happy, or Adel Trevent to have an opinion of them - either positive or negative. The group of you are just... there. Technically present because you're needed to fill space. I suppose more than anything else that's the reason why there are only thirty men in a match called The Roulette - because the people running this company, even as it is the greatest professional wrestling federation in the world today, simply don't have a wide enough pool of worthwhile talent to dredge up to something resembling fighting condition.
Even then, there are names among the list of those I don't care greatly about who ARE recognizable and worth paying heed to. Pax Stormcrow is a champion, an Olympic Talent who has proven capable of holding his own against some actually impressive competition. I don't... know him, or have anything interesting to say about him. I'm not going to sit here and think of semi-generic 'oh I'm gonna beat you' lines for a dozen-odd men I don't know, and Pax is one of them. He seems like a good kid. Got some talent. Stay out of my way."
He rolls his eyes. "In the end... it's not about simply putting down everyone in my way. At the end of the day, the real reason... the important reason... that I'm going to be walking out of High Stakes as the winner of the 2019 Roulette isn't some critical weakness in one of my enemies. It's not the fact that everyone's gunning for The Pack, it's not because I'm going to make Rob Diamond scream like a little girl, and its not because I'm gonna run around and hang out in James Gilmore's blind-side making Zoidberg noises just to troll the fuck out of the guy."
He leans against the Roulette table, leveling his eyes at the camera with the posture of a father about to teach his children a life lesson. "The reason I'm going to win is right in front of you - because when push comes to shove, I'm Ethan Fucking King."
He begins counting off on his fingers as he continues. "Wrestling prodigy through high school and college, accolades from the best wrestling schools money can buy, singles and tag-team championship reigns in more independent promotions around the world than I can count - YEARS of experience and training that have brought me to this company. Victories over Hall of Famers like Spike Kane and Cable Arcane. One part of the longest match in IWF History. The man whose one hold beat the master of one-thousand. The man whose will to win, whose will to fight and scrape my way to the top of this company overcame a broken leg in a matter of months. The man who Laura Howlett hand-picked to be at the head of her house, and who will rebuild it on the shattered ruins of The Pack and the Age of Gods. The man who's going to show his two newborn children what their daddy looks like wearing the most prestigious wrestling championship belt in the world.
The man who is smart enough, cunning enough, strong enough, skilled enough, tough enough, and ruthless enough to take his place at the top of this company.
Ethan. Fucking. King."
He slides his hand back in his pockets, looking away from the camera once again and off into the distance.
"There's only... one other name I want to address. Because you deserve it."
He turns and looks at the camera, his expression unusually gentle.
"AJ. No matter what I do, no matter who I fight, no matter what depths I lower myself to... don't forget that I do, and always will, have your back. You've helped me in ways I can't put to words, Andrew."
He leans forward into the camera.
"But if it comes to it... I will take you out of the Roulette myself. Not because I hate you - but because I have to win. There's no middle ground in this game, and I'm putting everything on the line. I'm not going to say 'may the best man win,' because I'm not ashamed to admit that you are by far the better man... but I won't hold back, and I don't expect you to either.
No matter what happens, remember: You are my brother. Now and always."
Ethan's face splits into his traditional smug grin, spreading his arms wide as he cockily tilts his head at the camera. "So that's it. That's all I have - I've said my peace and the die is cast. Only one of us can walk out of the Roulette going to the big match at the greatest stage of them all... and I know I'm going to do everything my warped little mind can think of to make sure it's me. So just remember, kids -
If you're going to come at the King... you'd best not fucking miss."