Post by Travis Reinhart on Aug 28, 2021 0:51:12 GMT
The camera opens on a shot of an empty wrestling ring erected within the confines of four plain cinder block walls. There is no crowd. There are no fancy decorations. There is merely the ring, sitting below some dingy low-lighting.
In that ring stands Vendetta, surrounding an old aluminum ladder in the middle of the ring. They're dressed in their ring gear, and still sporting a bit of sweat from the workout they just finished. Behind them, almost out of view of the camera, one of their two sparring partners drops from the apron and takes his bag. Marchand takes a sip off his water, and tosses the bottle aside.
"Legacy," Marchand says to the camera, allowing the word to linger in the air before expanding on his thought. "There may not be a more aptly named pay-per-view in this company. Win a match on this stage, and in one night you can build a legacy for yourself in this industry."
"I trained under the best in the world in this sport: Tara Fenix. There were times that training wasn't easy because she makes everything she does appear so effortlessly perfect; but I never quit because I wanted the foundation to be great."
Marchand gives Reinhart something between a slap and a pat on the chest, drawing attention to him, and adds, "I have the best damn tag team partner in this industry. He may not be blood, but this man is my brother. We bonded on the roads of Canada, traveling town-to-town, sometimes wrestling in front of less than twenty people, all in the name of trying to become something in this sport."
Travis snidely remarks, "But our reward... our opportunity for just a chance at tag team gold is a damn four way ladder match, where anything can happen."
Travis pushes his braids back, away from his face, trying to hold in the anger.
"It's not even that we didn't see it coming the moment teams started lining up and begging for title shots. For once we just wanted to be proven wrong about the way things work around here, but here we are."
"I won't take anything away from any of the competitors in this match, either- at least not between those ropes. They're all capable. They all have talent. Supreme athletes, most are. My question for you, though, is: where in the hell is your pride?"
Travis shakes his head in disgust.
"You begged for a chance at the World Tag Team championships. You didn't have the wins that we do. You didn't have the claim that we do. You. Fucking! BEGGED! You let that sink in, and you ask yourselves if you somehow win those titles if you can honestly look yourselves in the mirror and call yourselves champions when you didn't earn it over us. You just cut the line."
Travis places a hand on the ladder, and he looks to the top.
"Let me do all of you a favor, though, and save you the thinking- because as good as you are, this Sunday you aren't going to win. If we have to step through those ropes and climb a ladder to secure our championship opportunity, we will."
Travis redirects his focus onto the camera.
"We're tired of the begging. We're tired of the games. We're tired of the line jumpers. At this point, our only wish is that the Powers That Be and the Church of Cross, and anyone else you can name were in this match, too- because Sunday, Vendetta is storming into Legacy to put the entire field down with a surgical like precision. If this is our test, we will leave no doubt to our place!"
"No more begging. No more games. No more line jumpers. We're taking our place on the top of this division. We're going on to challenge Violent Tendencies for those World Tag Team Championships, and we're winning those World Tag Team Championships! We're putting respect on this division... and when we do, all of you hosers are going to learn to pay your dues and earn your way, because if you come at us with the scent of shoe leather on your breath trying to beg your way into an opportunity, the answer will be no. What you do in that ring will be the only way you meet us."
Marchand adds, "That's not because we've changed, it's just that now we see the way this company works clearer than we ever did before. We aren't going to let our dreams be snuffed out, though. We are going to be part of creating something bigger than the favors and corruption that plague this place. If you find yourself hearing my words and taking them as some sort of veiled threat, then you are very likely part of the problem- and you should be worried. This Sunday, the first block is laid when we become the number one contenders to the World Tag Team Championships at Legacy."
In that ring stands Vendetta, surrounding an old aluminum ladder in the middle of the ring. They're dressed in their ring gear, and still sporting a bit of sweat from the workout they just finished. Behind them, almost out of view of the camera, one of their two sparring partners drops from the apron and takes his bag. Marchand takes a sip off his water, and tosses the bottle aside.
"Legacy," Marchand says to the camera, allowing the word to linger in the air before expanding on his thought. "There may not be a more aptly named pay-per-view in this company. Win a match on this stage, and in one night you can build a legacy for yourself in this industry."
"That idea- the concept of a legacy- it means a lot to me, personally. Wrestling isn't in my blood the same way it pulses through the veins of some other stars here, passed down from generation-to-generation. I didn't walk through those doors with a famous father, or sibling. I walked through those doors with a pair of wrestling boots, a dream and the drive to realize it. This is all I ever wanted to do with my life- to wrestle, to test my mettle against other wrestlers."
"I trained under the best in the world in this sport: Tara Fenix. There were times that training wasn't easy because she makes everything she does appear so effortlessly perfect; but I never quit because I wanted the foundation to be great."
Marchand gives Reinhart something between a slap and a pat on the chest, drawing attention to him, and adds, "I have the best damn tag team partner in this industry. He may not be blood, but this man is my brother. We bonded on the roads of Canada, traveling town-to-town, sometimes wrestling in front of less than twenty people, all in the name of trying to become something in this sport."
"Every decision, every moment," Marchand says, tapping at the cold steel ladder, "was a step toward the top, rung-by-rung. I never took a shortcut. I never leaned on anything to help me get by, nor did my partner. We busted our asses to get three-quarters of the way up this proverbial ladder to the top. We've beaten team after team here that has been around for any length, suffering only one," he says, throwing up one finger to emphasis his point, "loss in the IWF so far, where the highest level of competition resides."
Marchand glances up at the top of the ladder, taking in a deep breath. He exhales, his mind seemingly fixated on something momentarily.
Travis snidely remarks, "But our reward... our opportunity for just a chance at tag team gold is a damn four way ladder match, where anything can happen."
Travis pushes his braids back, away from his face, trying to hold in the anger.
"It's not even that we didn't see it coming the moment teams started lining up and begging for title shots. For once we just wanted to be proven wrong about the way things work around here, but here we are."
"I won't take anything away from any of the competitors in this match, either- at least not between those ropes. They're all capable. They all have talent. Supreme athletes, most are. My question for you, though, is: where in the hell is your pride?"
Travis shakes his head in disgust.
"You begged for a chance at the World Tag Team championships. You didn't have the wins that we do. You didn't have the claim that we do. You. Fucking! BEGGED! You let that sink in, and you ask yourselves if you somehow win those titles if you can honestly look yourselves in the mirror and call yourselves champions when you didn't earn it over us. You just cut the line."
Travis places a hand on the ladder, and he looks to the top.
"Let me do all of you a favor, though, and save you the thinking- because as good as you are, this Sunday you aren't going to win. If we have to step through those ropes and climb a ladder to secure our championship opportunity, we will."
Travis redirects his focus onto the camera.
"We're tired of the begging. We're tired of the games. We're tired of the line jumpers. At this point, our only wish is that the Powers That Be and the Church of Cross, and anyone else you can name were in this match, too- because Sunday, Vendetta is storming into Legacy to put the entire field down with a surgical like precision. If this is our test, we will leave no doubt to our place!"
"No more begging. No more games. No more line jumpers. We're taking our place on the top of this division. We're going on to challenge Violent Tendencies for those World Tag Team Championships, and we're winning those World Tag Team Championships! We're putting respect on this division... and when we do, all of you hosers are going to learn to pay your dues and earn your way, because if you come at us with the scent of shoe leather on your breath trying to beg your way into an opportunity, the answer will be no. What you do in that ring will be the only way you meet us."
Marchand adds, "That's not because we've changed, it's just that now we see the way this company works clearer than we ever did before. We aren't going to let our dreams be snuffed out, though. We are going to be part of creating something bigger than the favors and corruption that plague this place. If you find yourself hearing my words and taking them as some sort of veiled threat, then you are very likely part of the problem- and you should be worried. This Sunday, the first block is laid when we become the number one contenders to the World Tag Team Championships at Legacy."
Travis runs his thumb across his throat, closing by saying, "Prepare to get clipped."
*********************
<After the cameras stop rolling, while the two men clean up.>
"Hey, J," Travis says to his partner. "Are you good, man? I caught the pause in there, and I know how you feel about heights."
Marchand pushes up on the metal support brace on the ladder, starting to fold it. He replies to Travis: "Yeah, I guess. This is our big opportunity, so I almost have to be. If it comes down to it, I'll force myself up there."
Travis grabs an end of the ladder to help his partner out.
"Don't worry about it, J. We'll just stay to the gameplan. You handle the ring, I'll climb the ladder. That's how we got here, staying to the plan."
The two men drop the ladder over the ropes, and it lands on the floor with a clang.
Marchand says to Reinhart, "I know, but I wrestle with the what ifs of it all. I hate matches like this. They're pointless because it's not out of the scope of possibility that Happy Suffering could walk out as winners, proving what? More than that, they're unneeded risk. There's a large part of me that knows that's why they put us in it, though."
Marchand pushes up on the metal support brace on the ladder, starting to fold it. He replies to Travis: "Yeah, I guess. This is our big opportunity, so I almost have to be. If it comes down to it, I'll force myself up there."
Travis grabs an end of the ladder to help his partner out.
"Don't worry about it, J. We'll just stay to the gameplan. You handle the ring, I'll climb the ladder. That's how we got here, staying to the plan."
The two men drop the ladder over the ropes, and it lands on the floor with a clang.
Marchand says to Reinhart, "I know, but I wrestle with the what ifs of it all. I hate matches like this. They're pointless because it's not out of the scope of possibility that Happy Suffering could walk out as winners, proving what? More than that, they're unneeded risk. There's a large part of me that knows that's why they put us in it, though."