Post by Nick Knight on Apr 22, 2024 4:30:30 GMT
{Nick Knight sits on the balcony of his hotel room watching the people below. His breakfast was finished and he was fighting the urge to go back to bed because he'd been out late taking in Amsterdam’s famed red light district.
He turns on the camera he has set up on a tripod in the corner and clears his throat before pressing play.}
Twenty-five years ago this Thursday a kid with a pair of second-hand boots and tights ordered out of a catalog hitchhiked to Tijuana to have his very first professional wrestling match. He was way too skinny and had absolutely no business being inside of a ring, but like every other sixteen-year-old in the history of our species, he was too fucking stubborn to listen to anyone.
{A big smile comes on Nick's face.}
My wives will tell you that hasn’t changed much because I’m still a stubborn son of a bitch. I won’t deny that one bit but two and a half decades worth of mistakes comes a whole lot of wisdom. I’m no longer a snot-nosed punk full of piss and vinegar and ready to take on the world. I’m a forty-one-year-old man who has learned to pick his battles and fight like Hell to accomplish my goals.
The only problem I’ve had lately is that my battles keep changing. Six months ago I had one goal: to become Invictus Champion and make that title mean something. I promised that I was going to take on all comers and bust my ass to make IWF a better place because a strong IWF means a strong professional wrestling business. I don’t give a fuck what Roberto Verona has said I was being the ultimate company man and he was making a shitload of money off of my blood, sweat, and tears.
Sitting back and watching his bloated bank accounts grow just simply wasn’t enough for Verona. No, he had to come back and put his filthy little fingers in everybody’s pie. I mean, he’s got his thought police running around attacking anyone who has the balls to speak out against him, and poor Jessica Reed is trying to rehabilitate people to keep them off of the CEO’s shitlist. How long is it going to be before Bertie has us calling him Big Brother?
{Knight runs his hands over his shaved head and lets out a long sigh.}
Sadly, I can’t even worry about Roberto Verona right now because I have to deal with an asshole from my past. Gregor Winter, you used to be someone I was proud to have helped in this business, but since that bullshit with The Church of Crosse, I've been filled with nothing but regret.
Gregor, when you were sleeping on my couch because you had nowhere else to go I saw potential in you. I thought you could one day be the World Champion, but instead, you've turned into a wackjob cult leader just like my brother.
Hell, you even have to have other people fight your battles just like Lou. He was always a spineless piece of shit, but what the fuck happened to you? The guy I met ten years ago was a badass that had just returned from serving his country, but now you're a fucking pussy that let women fight all of your battles for you.
I guess it's a good thing you've been able to surround yourself with a pack of bad bitches, well at least Itami is because she pushed me to my limit two weeks ago. She might have even beat me but we'll never know because of your grand scheme. It was a scheme that backfired and I still walked out of London as the Invictus Champion.
{Knight stands and stretches his spine loudly popping causing him to grimace.}
I thought the match would end and The MOD would be out of my hair, but I was wrong. I'm not sure if Gregor went and kissed Verona's ass or Roberto thought it would make for good ratings, but this week I find myself going one on one with the latest member of The MOD. A woman that, except for her slipping some brass knuckles to Itami a couple of weeks ago, I know absolutely nothing about. It’s like she just appeared out of nowhere because I can’t find a fucking thing about her anywhere online.
It’s fucking bullshit that this mystery person gets to waltz into Amsterdam knowing everything is to know about me, while I don’t even know her fucking name. It really is the kind of thing that sneaky fucks like Verona and Winter would pull, but it’s alright because I’ve got a couple of decades of experience in walking into matches not knowing who would be standing across the ring from me. Shit, most of the time they were giants carrying spiked baseball bats, not five foot nothing women that joined a bullshit cult because they weren’t the best version of themselves possible.
{He makes the classic jerk-off gesture.}
I’m just gonna go into Tuesday night the same way that I’ve gone into any match against a strange appointment my entire career, stick to the basics and make as few mistakes as possible. I can’t forget how important it is to be a counter wrestler because I have no fucking clue what she’s going to be trying to hit, and I need to focus my offense on fundamental mat wrestling and high-impact throws. That means that no matter how deep the water gets I have to stay in my comfort zone because I’m not going to win the fucking match by trying to do a bunch of flippy shit and missing.
Once I am finished dropping Winter’s new little bitch on her head a couple dozen times I’m going to be finished with The MOD once and for all. Then I can turn my attention back to what’s really important, taking down Roberto Verona and The Legion by any means necessary. Just a warning to the entire roster, anyone who stands in my way will get taken out and I don’t give a fuck who it is because this thing is bigger than any friendship that I might have in this company.
{Nick flops back down into his chair.}
It’s less than a month to Night of the Immortals and this business is never going to be the same after those two nights. You are going to see Roberto Verona take his ball and go home or I’m walking out of IW with the Invictus Championship in hand. Trust me when I say that more than a couple of companies is willing to pay big bucks for both my services and to see one of the biggest assholes in the history of professional wrestling with egg on his face.
{Nick lets out another sigh.}
Tuesday we are going to prove that once and for all and The MOD will be out of what little hair I have left.
{The scene fades to black.}
He turns on the camera he has set up on a tripod in the corner and clears his throat before pressing play.}
Twenty-five years ago this Thursday a kid with a pair of second-hand boots and tights ordered out of a catalog hitchhiked to Tijuana to have his very first professional wrestling match. He was way too skinny and had absolutely no business being inside of a ring, but like every other sixteen-year-old in the history of our species, he was too fucking stubborn to listen to anyone.
{A big smile comes on Nick's face.}
My wives will tell you that hasn’t changed much because I’m still a stubborn son of a bitch. I won’t deny that one bit but two and a half decades worth of mistakes comes a whole lot of wisdom. I’m no longer a snot-nosed punk full of piss and vinegar and ready to take on the world. I’m a forty-one-year-old man who has learned to pick his battles and fight like Hell to accomplish my goals.
The only problem I’ve had lately is that my battles keep changing. Six months ago I had one goal: to become Invictus Champion and make that title mean something. I promised that I was going to take on all comers and bust my ass to make IWF a better place because a strong IWF means a strong professional wrestling business. I don’t give a fuck what Roberto Verona has said I was being the ultimate company man and he was making a shitload of money off of my blood, sweat, and tears.
Sitting back and watching his bloated bank accounts grow just simply wasn’t enough for Verona. No, he had to come back and put his filthy little fingers in everybody’s pie. I mean, he’s got his thought police running around attacking anyone who has the balls to speak out against him, and poor Jessica Reed is trying to rehabilitate people to keep them off of the CEO’s shitlist. How long is it going to be before Bertie has us calling him Big Brother?
{Knight runs his hands over his shaved head and lets out a long sigh.}
Sadly, I can’t even worry about Roberto Verona right now because I have to deal with an asshole from my past. Gregor Winter, you used to be someone I was proud to have helped in this business, but since that bullshit with The Church of Crosse, I've been filled with nothing but regret.
Gregor, when you were sleeping on my couch because you had nowhere else to go I saw potential in you. I thought you could one day be the World Champion, but instead, you've turned into a wackjob cult leader just like my brother.
Hell, you even have to have other people fight your battles just like Lou. He was always a spineless piece of shit, but what the fuck happened to you? The guy I met ten years ago was a badass that had just returned from serving his country, but now you're a fucking pussy that let women fight all of your battles for you.
I guess it's a good thing you've been able to surround yourself with a pack of bad bitches, well at least Itami is because she pushed me to my limit two weeks ago. She might have even beat me but we'll never know because of your grand scheme. It was a scheme that backfired and I still walked out of London as the Invictus Champion.
{Knight stands and stretches his spine loudly popping causing him to grimace.}
I thought the match would end and The MOD would be out of my hair, but I was wrong. I'm not sure if Gregor went and kissed Verona's ass or Roberto thought it would make for good ratings, but this week I find myself going one on one with the latest member of The MOD. A woman that, except for her slipping some brass knuckles to Itami a couple of weeks ago, I know absolutely nothing about. It’s like she just appeared out of nowhere because I can’t find a fucking thing about her anywhere online.
It’s fucking bullshit that this mystery person gets to waltz into Amsterdam knowing everything is to know about me, while I don’t even know her fucking name. It really is the kind of thing that sneaky fucks like Verona and Winter would pull, but it’s alright because I’ve got a couple of decades of experience in walking into matches not knowing who would be standing across the ring from me. Shit, most of the time they were giants carrying spiked baseball bats, not five foot nothing women that joined a bullshit cult because they weren’t the best version of themselves possible.
{He makes the classic jerk-off gesture.}
I’m just gonna go into Tuesday night the same way that I’ve gone into any match against a strange appointment my entire career, stick to the basics and make as few mistakes as possible. I can’t forget how important it is to be a counter wrestler because I have no fucking clue what she’s going to be trying to hit, and I need to focus my offense on fundamental mat wrestling and high-impact throws. That means that no matter how deep the water gets I have to stay in my comfort zone because I’m not going to win the fucking match by trying to do a bunch of flippy shit and missing.
Once I am finished dropping Winter’s new little bitch on her head a couple dozen times I’m going to be finished with The MOD once and for all. Then I can turn my attention back to what’s really important, taking down Roberto Verona and The Legion by any means necessary. Just a warning to the entire roster, anyone who stands in my way will get taken out and I don’t give a fuck who it is because this thing is bigger than any friendship that I might have in this company.
{Nick flops back down into his chair.}
It’s less than a month to Night of the Immortals and this business is never going to be the same after those two nights. You are going to see Roberto Verona take his ball and go home or I’m walking out of IW with the Invictus Championship in hand. Trust me when I say that more than a couple of companies is willing to pay big bucks for both my services and to see one of the biggest assholes in the history of professional wrestling with egg on his face.
{Nick lets out another sigh.}
Tuesday we are going to prove that once and for all and The MOD will be out of what little hair I have left.
{The scene fades to black.}
Well howdy there pardner.