Post by Nate Harris on Aug 27, 2021 23:45:32 GMT
Ya'll... I'm gonna be honest and I'm gonna be real.
As hype as I am for my own match right now, and TRUST I am hype as fuck. Me and Nick going against other teams who can't hold a candle to the team work we got going on? Nah. This is in the goddamn BAG!
And I don't just mean just because Nick and Me finish each other's move set. It's basic fucking chemistry. I know him better than anyone else in the entire planet. I know what he plans and he knows what my dumb ass about to do. It's what comes when you been boys as long as we have.
See, and while I am hype me and Nick taken the next step to getting a rematch for the goddamn tag team belts. And we are coming for that fucking strap, trust.
But ... what I'm hype for? My boy Pax motherfucking Stormcrow! Look at that motherfucker, came through the Heir to the throne and got his self a TV title match. Kick his ass, cousin. It's about time this company gave you the belt. You deserve it. You tolerate some bullshit and you already a former Extreme title holder. You got this. Kick JC in the head or like... whatever the fuck. I guess suplex the motherfucker a ton. Believe in you boy! You got the power of the ancestors, brah, you take that warrior shit and kick the goddamn door in.
It's about fucking time that Team Diversity Hire got some respect on the name. It's about time to get this shit rocking. And come Legacy, you know your boys are coming out with show upswing, trust.
"Nate?" The sound of Justine's voice in the dark made Nate regret all his life choices as he rolled over and looked over at his baby sister standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Her hair in pigtails and her eyes wide.
"Wassup?" Nate sat up, brushing his hair back.
"I'm scared."
"Did you have a nightmare?"
"mmhm." Justine nodded.
Nate got out of bed, pulling on the tank top he'd tossed on the chair near the bed and pulling it on and following her out to the kitchen. He picked her up and sat her on the counter while he opened up the fridge, grabbing out all the supplies for chocolate milk the way mom used to make it. He wasn't a good replacement for his parents. He was the farthest thing from a good replacement. His parents had been straight laced. Too caught up in not wanting to be seen as "that kind" of Indian, trying too hard to be the right kind of minority. And what had that left them? Dead.
Justine was pure sunshine and was handling the change in the family dynamic better than anyone else. Sometimes Nate worried she didn't really understand that Mom and Dad were never coming back. But that was a future Nate problem, current Nate problem was not to make the milk too overloaded with sweet.
Zoe was doing the typical teenage thing of ignoring Nate and fighting every step of the way. And Nate didn't really have a leg to stand on. The way he'd lived his life, he couldn't tell her to get her shit together. She'd figure it out, he was pretty sure, and that's why he was bleeding out therapy bills, wasn't it?
"Want to talk about what scared you?" Nate asked.
"...Are we lost?" Justine asked.
"Whacha mean?"
"Like...Like Erik and his daddy from the movie Nick likes?"
Nate stopped stirring the milk and moved to his little sister, "Hey, hey." He hugged her tightly to him. "We ain't lost. Promise."
"But we aren't near where our ancestors lived. We don't have roots. Are we gonna end up in an apartment in the spirit world away from our ancestors?" Nate could feel the tears running down her face.
"Justine, shhh shhh. No, no. Don't ever think that."
"But--"
"I'm not gonna lie. There are gonna be people that think we ain't native enough. There are gonna be people who think because we didn't live on the Rez means we sold out our spirits to live in the white man's world. And yeah, maybe that's why mom and Dad left and moved down south. But they also did it to keep you and Zoe safe, okay? Rez is a hard place and we had to keep ya'll safe."
"So are mommy and daddy lost?"
"Nah. We're Ojibwe. We ain't never lost. This whole fucking land is part of our blood. We just got to listen to our hearts and shit."
"You swore." Justine rubbed her eyes.
"Yeah. I'll put a twenty in the tin in the morning."
But let's put some break on the hype machine, just for a hot minute. Let's talk about the boys on the other side, yeah?
Happy Suffering. Just fucking happy to be here, am I right? Proud of you boys. Get that fucking bag. You ain't gonna win, everyone knows that. But good for you for showing up. It's legit good. Get that money. I mean, one of yous a juggalo and the other... might actually be a cardboard cutout. I ain't really certain. But shit, you happy, you making money, fuck the haters.
Rising Dragons... Ho! Nah, see, this is gonna get me in trouble. This? This right here? This is gonna get me chewed out.
See, this is Legacy. This is the show where we pump the fist and show what we can do. This is where we represent the family line and our boys and kick some fucking ass.
And Gilmore?
I'm gonna take some fucking pleasure in kicking yours. You out of touch fucking idiot. You keep dragging my boy because he kept the name of his people. Do you try to learn anything about why? Nah. You make some tired ass 80's references like you a character in ready player one.
Let's just be honest. Because you just like those tired ass mother fuckers that name their kids after a character from game of thrones or a goddamn anime. Basic ass bitch.
And I know your ass is gonna talk about Being Infamous. He's a fun challenge, Gilmore, how bout you talk for ten minutes without mentioning Being Infamous once? Think you can? I don't. You are riding that merch truck into the goddamn ground. And it's pathetic. You were in a stable that did some cool shit. Cool. But it's over. Get over it. Move the fuck on. It's like suing states when the election is already over asking for recounts. It makes you look pathetic.
And Nick Danger?
Motherfucker. Who are you? Where are you? Why are you? Grow a goddamn personality. You act like a goddamn real doll. Tell me why I should give a FUCK about you. Don't look to Gilmore to tell you. Say something. Really, really say something. You dumb looking fuck. You couldn't possibly look more stupid then holding Gilmore's bag while he rants and raves about star trek for the hundredth time.
Grow some fucking brain cells and make the crowd give a fuck about you, god damn.
Vendetta though. That's where the real shit is.
I see you boys. See, you know what it's like to be given that good push and for it to just stop. To just be left hanging in the wings, getting that check but not being used.
Shit, Nick and I wrote the goddamn book.
I like what I see out of you boys though. You got good team work. You are tight. You fight good. Shit. You're the only actual team I'm worried about in this whole match.
You trained by Tara Fenix and it shows. That's that good shit.
But can you keep up with me and Nick? Shit... Maybe. I'm pumped as fuck to find out.
Maybe after it's over we can grab something to drink and swap stories and shit. Right now though? Right now we're gonna kick your ass.
Because you might be hungry, you might be starving from being left out of the lime light but that shit AINT NOTHING ON ME. I want to make this goddamn company remember why they hired our asses. How we light this bitch up. How we rocked the first tag team world cup and how we were shoved to the goddamn sidelines while they let being infamous jerk off into the dollar bin of the local walmart's I love the 80's.
Nah. I've done my waiting.
The time is fucking now.
I got shit to do and I'm not leaving that goddamn ring until me and my boy's arms are in the air.
Trust.
As hype as I am for my own match right now, and TRUST I am hype as fuck. Me and Nick going against other teams who can't hold a candle to the team work we got going on? Nah. This is in the goddamn BAG!
And I don't just mean just because Nick and Me finish each other's move set. It's basic fucking chemistry. I know him better than anyone else in the entire planet. I know what he plans and he knows what my dumb ass about to do. It's what comes when you been boys as long as we have.
See, and while I am hype me and Nick taken the next step to getting a rematch for the goddamn tag team belts. And we are coming for that fucking strap, trust.
But ... what I'm hype for? My boy Pax motherfucking Stormcrow! Look at that motherfucker, came through the Heir to the throne and got his self a TV title match. Kick his ass, cousin. It's about time this company gave you the belt. You deserve it. You tolerate some bullshit and you already a former Extreme title holder. You got this. Kick JC in the head or like... whatever the fuck. I guess suplex the motherfucker a ton. Believe in you boy! You got the power of the ancestors, brah, you take that warrior shit and kick the goddamn door in.
It's about fucking time that Team Diversity Hire got some respect on the name. It's about time to get this shit rocking. And come Legacy, you know your boys are coming out with show upswing, trust.
"Nate?" The sound of Justine's voice in the dark made Nate regret all his life choices as he rolled over and looked over at his baby sister standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Her hair in pigtails and her eyes wide.
"Wassup?" Nate sat up, brushing his hair back.
"I'm scared."
"Did you have a nightmare?"
"mmhm." Justine nodded.
Nate got out of bed, pulling on the tank top he'd tossed on the chair near the bed and pulling it on and following her out to the kitchen. He picked her up and sat her on the counter while he opened up the fridge, grabbing out all the supplies for chocolate milk the way mom used to make it. He wasn't a good replacement for his parents. He was the farthest thing from a good replacement. His parents had been straight laced. Too caught up in not wanting to be seen as "that kind" of Indian, trying too hard to be the right kind of minority. And what had that left them? Dead.
Justine was pure sunshine and was handling the change in the family dynamic better than anyone else. Sometimes Nate worried she didn't really understand that Mom and Dad were never coming back. But that was a future Nate problem, current Nate problem was not to make the milk too overloaded with sweet.
Zoe was doing the typical teenage thing of ignoring Nate and fighting every step of the way. And Nate didn't really have a leg to stand on. The way he'd lived his life, he couldn't tell her to get her shit together. She'd figure it out, he was pretty sure, and that's why he was bleeding out therapy bills, wasn't it?
"Want to talk about what scared you?" Nate asked.
"...Are we lost?" Justine asked.
"Whacha mean?"
"Like...Like Erik and his daddy from the movie Nick likes?"
Nate stopped stirring the milk and moved to his little sister, "Hey, hey." He hugged her tightly to him. "We ain't lost. Promise."
"But we aren't near where our ancestors lived. We don't have roots. Are we gonna end up in an apartment in the spirit world away from our ancestors?" Nate could feel the tears running down her face.
"Justine, shhh shhh. No, no. Don't ever think that."
"But--"
"I'm not gonna lie. There are gonna be people that think we ain't native enough. There are gonna be people who think because we didn't live on the Rez means we sold out our spirits to live in the white man's world. And yeah, maybe that's why mom and Dad left and moved down south. But they also did it to keep you and Zoe safe, okay? Rez is a hard place and we had to keep ya'll safe."
"So are mommy and daddy lost?"
"Nah. We're Ojibwe. We ain't never lost. This whole fucking land is part of our blood. We just got to listen to our hearts and shit."
"You swore." Justine rubbed her eyes.
"Yeah. I'll put a twenty in the tin in the morning."
But let's put some break on the hype machine, just for a hot minute. Let's talk about the boys on the other side, yeah?
Happy Suffering. Just fucking happy to be here, am I right? Proud of you boys. Get that fucking bag. You ain't gonna win, everyone knows that. But good for you for showing up. It's legit good. Get that money. I mean, one of yous a juggalo and the other... might actually be a cardboard cutout. I ain't really certain. But shit, you happy, you making money, fuck the haters.
Rising Dragons... Ho! Nah, see, this is gonna get me in trouble. This? This right here? This is gonna get me chewed out.
See, this is Legacy. This is the show where we pump the fist and show what we can do. This is where we represent the family line and our boys and kick some fucking ass.
And Gilmore?
I'm gonna take some fucking pleasure in kicking yours. You out of touch fucking idiot. You keep dragging my boy because he kept the name of his people. Do you try to learn anything about why? Nah. You make some tired ass 80's references like you a character in ready player one.
Let's just be honest. Because you just like those tired ass mother fuckers that name their kids after a character from game of thrones or a goddamn anime. Basic ass bitch.
And I know your ass is gonna talk about Being Infamous. He's a fun challenge, Gilmore, how bout you talk for ten minutes without mentioning Being Infamous once? Think you can? I don't. You are riding that merch truck into the goddamn ground. And it's pathetic. You were in a stable that did some cool shit. Cool. But it's over. Get over it. Move the fuck on. It's like suing states when the election is already over asking for recounts. It makes you look pathetic.
And Nick Danger?
Motherfucker. Who are you? Where are you? Why are you? Grow a goddamn personality. You act like a goddamn real doll. Tell me why I should give a FUCK about you. Don't look to Gilmore to tell you. Say something. Really, really say something. You dumb looking fuck. You couldn't possibly look more stupid then holding Gilmore's bag while he rants and raves about star trek for the hundredth time.
Grow some fucking brain cells and make the crowd give a fuck about you, god damn.
Vendetta though. That's where the real shit is.
I see you boys. See, you know what it's like to be given that good push and for it to just stop. To just be left hanging in the wings, getting that check but not being used.
Shit, Nick and I wrote the goddamn book.
I like what I see out of you boys though. You got good team work. You are tight. You fight good. Shit. You're the only actual team I'm worried about in this whole match.
You trained by Tara Fenix and it shows. That's that good shit.
But can you keep up with me and Nick? Shit... Maybe. I'm pumped as fuck to find out.
Maybe after it's over we can grab something to drink and swap stories and shit. Right now though? Right now we're gonna kick your ass.
Because you might be hungry, you might be starving from being left out of the lime light but that shit AINT NOTHING ON ME. I want to make this goddamn company remember why they hired our asses. How we light this bitch up. How we rocked the first tag team world cup and how we were shoved to the goddamn sidelines while they let being infamous jerk off into the dollar bin of the local walmart's I love the 80's.
Nah. I've done my waiting.
The time is fucking now.
I got shit to do and I'm not leaving that goddamn ring until me and my boy's arms are in the air.
Trust.