Post by Bernard de Montfort on Jun 30, 2013 12:37:58 GMT
Oh, Lex, you’re a man after my own heart.
A fellow arbiter of chaos, another man who knows the benefit of controlled aggression and the riches it may bring. I don’t know whether to be excited to share the ring with somebody so similar to myself, albeit a little less mentally stable, or be terrified that there is somebody else in this company who is willing to go to the lengths I am to achieve success.
Maybe a little of both, but if the Taliban couldn’t shake me, I guess even the great Lex Sense shouldn’t be the cause of too many sleepless nights.
Like everybody, the mark inside of me was delirious when you marched down that ramp and unceremoniously tossed the field over the top rope in an exquisite display of pure power, even if it was at my expense.
Ever since you’ve disappeared I’ve been craving for you to return.
There are too many men who waste their breathe pretending to be a destroyer and too few who just turn up and unleash their fury on the unsuspecting victims of their directed rage. A great deal of imitators playing monster. Thank the Lord that he deemed it fit to have you return to vanquish the frauds and remind everyone of what fear is.
A weapon, as much as violence, if in the right hands can be used to devastating effect.
Fear and violence were as much a reason for my continued survival in a land where every turn could have brought death. They suppressed those who would have otherwise raised their hands in defiance and stabbed me in the back. There are times for diplomacy, when words can be used to avoid conflicts and maintain an advantageous position.
And that’s where you and I differ, Lex.
You’re the perfect specimen, a prime example of the power of controlled violence and fear. There are few men who will look you in the eye and smile, but I am one of those men. You see, I know you could rip me apart, limb by limb, like a little boy playing with a fly and you would flinch for a moment, and that sort of power has its uses.
But ultimate power cannot rely on violence alone, certainly not misguided violence.
Domination requires diplomacy, guile, espionage and a little bit of wit. Suppression of your opponents demands that you know them. You need to know what they’re going to do long before they ever do it, you need to know what makes them tick and how to fool them into a false sense of security so you can use chaos to consume them.
You destroy men with ease, but to truly dominate this company, you need to learn how to rule after you’ve conquered.
We are two irresistible forces of chaos on a collision path and this week, one of us will fall to the other. Yet, this is only the first battle in a long war, I have spent my life in a conflict without end and I am not afraid to engage in another with you, because in the end I know you do not have the tools to rule with unquestioned might.
You may wrench the crown from the predecessor’s skull, but strength alone will not keep it atop you scalp.
Men like me will be waiting in the wings to take it from you.
And the wolves are never merciful with the men whose strength kept them from the flock.
Ryan Shane.
I have to admit, you’re an enigma to me, a representative of the unknown. Scarce information is never something that fills me with much confidence when entering a conflict which I am more than ready to admit. Luckily for me, I seriously doubt you have much of an idea of what I am capable of.
Well, beyond the destruction of the COO of this company.
But I don’t like to brag.
Last week you proved to the world that those who dwell in the dark spots of the internet were justified in their consistent hype. You took a monster in Deathtrain and a veteran in Joe Everyman and you humbled them on live television and you cut the deficit that your eight place afforded you. You did the best you could, but the question remains…
Can you bring your best on a weekly basis?
Are you good enough to endure the challenges that are ahead?
This tournament isn’t just about who is the better wrestler, or who is the biggest or strongest. This is a battle of endurance, who can outlive their colleagues and win a battle of the minds and considering the showing of some of our rivals, I’d suggest that this field is rather thin of geniuses.
You rallied yourself last week and you rose up in defiance and it paid off for you, congratulations. You finally got that chip off of your shoulder and you showed the world that you’re capable of picking up a single pinfall, but it is going to take a lot more than that to be crowned as the first ever Imperial Champion.
Do you possess the attributes required to win?
We know you have spirit, but do you have the ruthlessness to dispatch a foe despite the fact he is weak and begging for mercy? Can you inflict the level of pain required to make another man squeal like a pig and possibly leave him without a profession as a result? Are you capable of dissecting an opponent piece of by piece before he breaks before you?
So many men set out to achieve success with an arbitrary set of motivations, such as proving themselves or showing them that the good guy can win.
But I dwell in the realms of reality.
A real champion has to be merciless, he has to be feared and above all else, he must have the ability to use aggression to cement his position at the top of the food chain.
When I look at you Ryan, I have to ask myself, can you be a true champion, or are you just a transitional one? There are many question marks hanging over your head, maybe you’ll come out smelling of roses when you answer them, but equally you may come up short.
It is your own fate to respond to those questions, just as it is mine, whether you run with the ball or not is down to you.
I know I have everything it takes to conquer this division and reign supreme as its head, I have amassed the skills required to prove myself at the highest level and perhaps the scariest thing is, I don’t even crave the belt for the same base career motives as the rest of you.
This belt provides me the chance to revel in chaos.
To do what I do best; hurt people.
The Imperial Championship will paint a target on my back, and you will all come running and provide me victim, after victim.
Victory after victory.
Ask yourself, what would you do with this belt if you clasped it to your breast?
Joe Everyman, I’ve heard a great deal about you. You’ve even gone to great lengths to confirm most of it.
Hold on, settle down princess and don’t get your panties wet, that isn’t a good thing.
You are often quoted as pleading your opponents to not question your heart, but I am going to question your basic sanity. Are you clinically retarded, Joe, or just being deliberately asinine as part of some sort of gimmick because I am genuinely perplexed by at least 80% of what comes dribbling out of your mouth. May I suggest you don’t pursue a career in the academic field because we have enough charlatans masquerading as genuine experts that we wheel out for any sort of man-made or natural disaster.
Let me ask you a very simple question, Joe, because I know you can’t understand anything above a fifth grade language register. Have you ever heard of Google? Amazon? Bing?
No?
Well may I suggest that you and these corporate search engines form a very close bond quite rapidly because quite honestly Joe your complete inability to do even the most basic of background research on myself is not only insulting but it is going to get you hurt.
Badly.
What was it you described me as?
Born with a silver spoon in my mouth? Spoiled rotten? Never worked a day in my life?
What the hell is wrong with you, seriously, I never realised anybody could be so devoid of the capacity to think critically. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth you rambling idiot, I’ve had it dangled in front of me for my entire life but rarely granted the opportunity to feed from it. Everything I have, from the shirt on my back to the shitty rental car I drive to every arena has been earned off my own back. Whilst my siblings strut around like peacocks tossing coins to the needy, I stand in the shadows dressed like a pauper in their rank and file.
If you took the time to pull your head out of your ass you’d realise that the assumption that I’ve never worked a day in my life is a fallacy concocted by your half-arsed attempt to portray me as a spoilt little brat.
I’ve put my life on the line for Queen and country, proudly representing the British military across the world. Is it the fact that I got shot at and not asked you if you wanted fries with that the reason you think I’ve never worked a day in my life? That I risked losing my limbs on a daily basis instead of sitting on my ass at a desk all day long?
For a man from such a patriotic backwater like the United States I find you complete and utter lack of respect for a military veteran disturbing. But then, you didn’t know that did you? The fact that I wear military regalia to the ring and a basic search for my name reveals that I’ve been in Afghanistan for the past several years is obviously not enough of a hint for you.
Hell, apparently looking at my God damn IWF.com profile is a stretch for you.
For a man who is so sick and tired of being the victim of premature perceptions you’ve gone and blown your mental wad a little too early.
How about you do us all a favour, Joe, and the next time you open your mouth and spill your mentally deficient smack talk you actually spend five minutes learning a little bit more about you opponents and show us the same respect you demand every God damn week.
You’ve clearly illustrated you don’t know a damn thing about me and come this Monday, I am going to revel in the target you’ve placed on my back when I snap you like a twig and leave you writhing in agony.
If you don’t know your enemy, you’ve the battle lost before it’s even begun.
Remember that when I am rolling what’s left of you out of the ring.
A fellow arbiter of chaos, another man who knows the benefit of controlled aggression and the riches it may bring. I don’t know whether to be excited to share the ring with somebody so similar to myself, albeit a little less mentally stable, or be terrified that there is somebody else in this company who is willing to go to the lengths I am to achieve success.
Maybe a little of both, but if the Taliban couldn’t shake me, I guess even the great Lex Sense shouldn’t be the cause of too many sleepless nights.
Like everybody, the mark inside of me was delirious when you marched down that ramp and unceremoniously tossed the field over the top rope in an exquisite display of pure power, even if it was at my expense.
Ever since you’ve disappeared I’ve been craving for you to return.
There are too many men who waste their breathe pretending to be a destroyer and too few who just turn up and unleash their fury on the unsuspecting victims of their directed rage. A great deal of imitators playing monster. Thank the Lord that he deemed it fit to have you return to vanquish the frauds and remind everyone of what fear is.
A weapon, as much as violence, if in the right hands can be used to devastating effect.
Fear and violence were as much a reason for my continued survival in a land where every turn could have brought death. They suppressed those who would have otherwise raised their hands in defiance and stabbed me in the back. There are times for diplomacy, when words can be used to avoid conflicts and maintain an advantageous position.
And that’s where you and I differ, Lex.
You’re the perfect specimen, a prime example of the power of controlled violence and fear. There are few men who will look you in the eye and smile, but I am one of those men. You see, I know you could rip me apart, limb by limb, like a little boy playing with a fly and you would flinch for a moment, and that sort of power has its uses.
But ultimate power cannot rely on violence alone, certainly not misguided violence.
Domination requires diplomacy, guile, espionage and a little bit of wit. Suppression of your opponents demands that you know them. You need to know what they’re going to do long before they ever do it, you need to know what makes them tick and how to fool them into a false sense of security so you can use chaos to consume them.
You destroy men with ease, but to truly dominate this company, you need to learn how to rule after you’ve conquered.
We are two irresistible forces of chaos on a collision path and this week, one of us will fall to the other. Yet, this is only the first battle in a long war, I have spent my life in a conflict without end and I am not afraid to engage in another with you, because in the end I know you do not have the tools to rule with unquestioned might.
You may wrench the crown from the predecessor’s skull, but strength alone will not keep it atop you scalp.
Men like me will be waiting in the wings to take it from you.
And the wolves are never merciful with the men whose strength kept them from the flock.
1208 A.D.
“That accursed Plantagenet bastard!”
Simon swooped his large arm across a nearby table, sending its contents flying across the room, his wife Alix cowering in fear as her husband rage was unleashed uncontrollably.
“The usurper will rue the day he betrayed me!”
“Husband, please, you’ll wake the children.”
With the mention of their name as sudden reserved peace, almost forced, washed across the large magnate as he began to take deep breathes, his wife approaching tentatively. Placing a hand on his shoulder he sighs.
“I am sorry…”
“You needn’t apologise…”
“That bastard, he took our boy’s inheritance. Through his own God damned incompetence he has damned our son’s inheritance because he could not keep a grip on Normandy.”
“Be quiet, husband. Calm yourself, rage will not solve our problems.”
“You know, he denied me the right to the earldom of Leicester for my cousin Ranulf?”
Simon balks.
“Ranulf! Of all the men!”
“He is a capable man…”
“A capable man with enough lands as it is, perhaps. King John mocks me, yet he displays no shame for his own failures, but I must suffer? Our boys must suffer?”
Alix runs a hand through his hair, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek affectionately.
“We will endure, Simon, as we always have.”
“How can you stay so calm, when we have been slighted thus?”
“I have faith.”
Alix smiles.
“Faith in you. You will find a solution.”
“I admire you. I suppose their maybe opportunity to be found in Toulouse, King Philip has begun to rally support for a crusade against the heretics, perhaps our losses may be tempered there.”
“See, a solution.”
“Perhaps, but one day… our family will make the Plantagenets regret this betrayal.”
“And I pray that day comes soon, but for now, be still. Do not let King John ruin your time with our sons.”
Simon smiles, holding Alix close to him.
“Of course…”
I have to admit, you’re an enigma to me, a representative of the unknown. Scarce information is never something that fills me with much confidence when entering a conflict which I am more than ready to admit. Luckily for me, I seriously doubt you have much of an idea of what I am capable of.
Well, beyond the destruction of the COO of this company.
But I don’t like to brag.
Last week you proved to the world that those who dwell in the dark spots of the internet were justified in their consistent hype. You took a monster in Deathtrain and a veteran in Joe Everyman and you humbled them on live television and you cut the deficit that your eight place afforded you. You did the best you could, but the question remains…
Can you bring your best on a weekly basis?
Are you good enough to endure the challenges that are ahead?
This tournament isn’t just about who is the better wrestler, or who is the biggest or strongest. This is a battle of endurance, who can outlive their colleagues and win a battle of the minds and considering the showing of some of our rivals, I’d suggest that this field is rather thin of geniuses.
You rallied yourself last week and you rose up in defiance and it paid off for you, congratulations. You finally got that chip off of your shoulder and you showed the world that you’re capable of picking up a single pinfall, but it is going to take a lot more than that to be crowned as the first ever Imperial Champion.
Do you possess the attributes required to win?
We know you have spirit, but do you have the ruthlessness to dispatch a foe despite the fact he is weak and begging for mercy? Can you inflict the level of pain required to make another man squeal like a pig and possibly leave him without a profession as a result? Are you capable of dissecting an opponent piece of by piece before he breaks before you?
So many men set out to achieve success with an arbitrary set of motivations, such as proving themselves or showing them that the good guy can win.
But I dwell in the realms of reality.
A real champion has to be merciless, he has to be feared and above all else, he must have the ability to use aggression to cement his position at the top of the food chain.
When I look at you Ryan, I have to ask myself, can you be a true champion, or are you just a transitional one? There are many question marks hanging over your head, maybe you’ll come out smelling of roses when you answer them, but equally you may come up short.
It is your own fate to respond to those questions, just as it is mine, whether you run with the ball or not is down to you.
I know I have everything it takes to conquer this division and reign supreme as its head, I have amassed the skills required to prove myself at the highest level and perhaps the scariest thing is, I don’t even crave the belt for the same base career motives as the rest of you.
This belt provides me the chance to revel in chaos.
To do what I do best; hurt people.
The Imperial Championship will paint a target on my back, and you will all come running and provide me victim, after victim.
Victory after victory.
Ask yourself, what would you do with this belt if you clasped it to your breast?
“Nice job, Kid.”
“It’s what my father wanted.”
“If he wants you to beat up Nathan Webb on a weekly basis, perhaps I got a better deal than I assumed.”
Verona snorts, smiling to himself as Bernard stares at him stoically.
“Either way, thank you.”
“I don’t want your thanks, this is purely business.”
“You know, I always wondered why your brother’s always described you as the ass in the flock.”
Verona smiles.
“Listen, I get it, Simon dragged you off onto one of his side projects and you’re pissed off, but you need to learn to enjoy yourself. You get to be the thorn in a few over-inflated ego’s sides and travel the country on my bank balance. Look at the positives.”
“The only positive is that this should be a short job.”
“I think you underestimate Kelly Fox, she won’t fold that easily.”
“Maybe with a little gentle persuasion…”
“It’s going to take more than a bit of violence to unsettle a Fox, you need to get beyond this obsession for calamity. Violence only solves some problems.”
“Violence can solve any problem.”
Roberto sighs.
“This isn’t a warzone, you can’t play soldier in this business and succeed.”
“I don’t need your advice.”
“Yeah, I’m only the World Champion of the most successful company in the business, what do I know.”
“Far less than you presume to.”
Suddenly Isabella knocks on the door, tilting her head as she walks in to the room.
“Are you boys playing nicely?”
Roberto smirks.
“Don’t I always play nice?”
“From memory, you play hard.”
“Touché.”
“If this lover’s reunion is quite done, you need to get to work on that paperwork, we won’t get anywhere without it.”
“Maybe you oughta work on a personality transplant whilst I am gone. Isabella, we’ll speak later.”
Roberto rises to his feet and exits the room, leaving Isabella and Bernard alone in silence for a moment.
“Do you always have to be such an ass?”
“He’s a jerk.”
“He’s your father’s partner. You’re going to have to learn to play nicely if you want to keep pops on side.”
“What makes you think I care what he thinks?”
Isabella laughs.
“Sure, Daddy’s approval doesn’t rank highly on your priorities. Look, sourpuss, get your shit together, we’re needed elsewhere.”
Isabella turns before pausing and turning back around.
“And another thing, smile every once in a while. You really bring the place down.”
Joe Everyman, I’ve heard a great deal about you. You’ve even gone to great lengths to confirm most of it.
Hold on, settle down princess and don’t get your panties wet, that isn’t a good thing.
You are often quoted as pleading your opponents to not question your heart, but I am going to question your basic sanity. Are you clinically retarded, Joe, or just being deliberately asinine as part of some sort of gimmick because I am genuinely perplexed by at least 80% of what comes dribbling out of your mouth. May I suggest you don’t pursue a career in the academic field because we have enough charlatans masquerading as genuine experts that we wheel out for any sort of man-made or natural disaster.
Let me ask you a very simple question, Joe, because I know you can’t understand anything above a fifth grade language register. Have you ever heard of Google? Amazon? Bing?
No?
Well may I suggest that you and these corporate search engines form a very close bond quite rapidly because quite honestly Joe your complete inability to do even the most basic of background research on myself is not only insulting but it is going to get you hurt.
Badly.
What was it you described me as?
Born with a silver spoon in my mouth? Spoiled rotten? Never worked a day in my life?
What the hell is wrong with you, seriously, I never realised anybody could be so devoid of the capacity to think critically. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth you rambling idiot, I’ve had it dangled in front of me for my entire life but rarely granted the opportunity to feed from it. Everything I have, from the shirt on my back to the shitty rental car I drive to every arena has been earned off my own back. Whilst my siblings strut around like peacocks tossing coins to the needy, I stand in the shadows dressed like a pauper in their rank and file.
If you took the time to pull your head out of your ass you’d realise that the assumption that I’ve never worked a day in my life is a fallacy concocted by your half-arsed attempt to portray me as a spoilt little brat.
I’ve put my life on the line for Queen and country, proudly representing the British military across the world. Is it the fact that I got shot at and not asked you if you wanted fries with that the reason you think I’ve never worked a day in my life? That I risked losing my limbs on a daily basis instead of sitting on my ass at a desk all day long?
For a man from such a patriotic backwater like the United States I find you complete and utter lack of respect for a military veteran disturbing. But then, you didn’t know that did you? The fact that I wear military regalia to the ring and a basic search for my name reveals that I’ve been in Afghanistan for the past several years is obviously not enough of a hint for you.
Hell, apparently looking at my God damn IWF.com profile is a stretch for you.
For a man who is so sick and tired of being the victim of premature perceptions you’ve gone and blown your mental wad a little too early.
How about you do us all a favour, Joe, and the next time you open your mouth and spill your mentally deficient smack talk you actually spend five minutes learning a little bit more about you opponents and show us the same respect you demand every God damn week.
You’ve clearly illustrated you don’t know a damn thing about me and come this Monday, I am going to revel in the target you’ve placed on my back when I snap you like a twig and leave you writhing in agony.
If you don’t know your enemy, you’ve the battle lost before it’s even begun.
Remember that when I am rolling what’s left of you out of the ring.
Well howdy there pardner.