Post by Cable Arcane on Sept 22, 2016 23:38:08 GMT
Growing up I was taught one thing…
You can and do anything through hard work and perseverance.
That isn’t a lesson I was taught at the “illustrious” Social Enemy Wrestling School where Falcon has spent the last four years of his life “making a difference.” That’s a lesson that was beat into my skull every waking moment of my life from the day I was born until the day I moved out of my father’s house.
I worked in the rain, sleet, snow, I worked whether it was hot as hell or cold as the arctic, I didn’t like it, I didn’t enjoy it, most of the time I didn’t want to do it but I was taught that to get to the top you had to start at the bottom. You had to work harder than everyone around you, stand out, master your craft, hone your skills, you had to find your limits and surpass them no matter the cost and if you were strong enough…
Nothing could stand in your way.
That is a lesson I carried with me into the squared circle. I didn’t let losses dampen my drive or determination, I didn’t let pink slips break my heart, I didn’t give up when it seemed like I’d never amount to anything.
I pushed forward.
Against all odds I rose up above the rest, I didn’t just jump hurdles, I dominated them! I destroyed everyone’s preconceived notion of what Cable Arcane was capable of and completely rewrote my story into one of failure into one of victory.
And now I stand here your IWF IMPERIAL CHAMPION!!!
So when I speak you know it’s not the words of a spoiled little cry baby or some washed up has been trying to relive his glory days! When I speak it’s coming out of the mouth of a man who earned every goddamn thing he has ever gotten! You people should look up to me! You should respect me! You should want to be me because I didn’t just dream about being the best in the world!
I AM THE BEST IN THE WORLD!
But still I have pompous “legends” ridicule me because of my attitude, because of my demeanor because I like to stand atop a pedestal and proclaim how goddamn good I am! Tell me why should I be humble? Why should I bite my tongue? Why should I sit back and eat shit after spending over ten damn years in this business eating shit!?
In my mind, men who sit back and accept the world for what it is are admitting they’re too damn weak or scared to change it.
I didn’t accept my fate; I didn’t believe for a single moment I wasn’t the best in the world or at least had the ability to become that. My faith in myself and my abilities never wavered. But men like Falcon sit back in their pretty blue face paint and cutsey “I’m not talking until I’m champion” gimmicks and mock ME for being outspoken about my talent?
He calls ME a cry baby?
Well what the hell do you call a man who gave up fighting for what he believes in?
What do you call a man who took four years off because no one was listening to him?
What do you call a man too afraid to stand up for himself.
A coward.
And that’s what Falcon is. He’s a coward. He ran away when it became too much to fight for his supposed beliefs, crawled under some rock of a wrestling school to teach the next generation the “right way” of doing things. He CHOSE to abandon his fans, his friends and his dreams because he was “tired” of repeating himself.
BOO! FREAKING! HOO!
Guess what flyboy, no one ever listened to you because you never had anything new to say! You’d drone on and on with your psychological technobabble without ever making a damn point! Then got up in arms when us plebeians looked at you sideways with drool coming out of our mouths because we didn’t “get it.”
Excuse us for wanting to be entertained and not lectured.
Excuse us for wanting action and not words.
Excuse us for need a man like me.
You can and do anything through hard work and perseverance.
That isn’t a lesson I was taught at the “illustrious” Social Enemy Wrestling School where Falcon has spent the last four years of his life “making a difference.” That’s a lesson that was beat into my skull every waking moment of my life from the day I was born until the day I moved out of my father’s house.
I worked in the rain, sleet, snow, I worked whether it was hot as hell or cold as the arctic, I didn’t like it, I didn’t enjoy it, most of the time I didn’t want to do it but I was taught that to get to the top you had to start at the bottom. You had to work harder than everyone around you, stand out, master your craft, hone your skills, you had to find your limits and surpass them no matter the cost and if you were strong enough…
Nothing could stand in your way.
That is a lesson I carried with me into the squared circle. I didn’t let losses dampen my drive or determination, I didn’t let pink slips break my heart, I didn’t give up when it seemed like I’d never amount to anything.
I pushed forward.
Against all odds I rose up above the rest, I didn’t just jump hurdles, I dominated them! I destroyed everyone’s preconceived notion of what Cable Arcane was capable of and completely rewrote my story into one of failure into one of victory.
And now I stand here your IWF IMPERIAL CHAMPION!!!
So when I speak you know it’s not the words of a spoiled little cry baby or some washed up has been trying to relive his glory days! When I speak it’s coming out of the mouth of a man who earned every goddamn thing he has ever gotten! You people should look up to me! You should respect me! You should want to be me because I didn’t just dream about being the best in the world!
I AM THE BEST IN THE WORLD!
But still I have pompous “legends” ridicule me because of my attitude, because of my demeanor because I like to stand atop a pedestal and proclaim how goddamn good I am! Tell me why should I be humble? Why should I bite my tongue? Why should I sit back and eat shit after spending over ten damn years in this business eating shit!?
In my mind, men who sit back and accept the world for what it is are admitting they’re too damn weak or scared to change it.
I didn’t accept my fate; I didn’t believe for a single moment I wasn’t the best in the world or at least had the ability to become that. My faith in myself and my abilities never wavered. But men like Falcon sit back in their pretty blue face paint and cutsey “I’m not talking until I’m champion” gimmicks and mock ME for being outspoken about my talent?
He calls ME a cry baby?
Well what the hell do you call a man who gave up fighting for what he believes in?
What do you call a man who took four years off because no one was listening to him?
What do you call a man too afraid to stand up for himself.
A coward.
And that’s what Falcon is. He’s a coward. He ran away when it became too much to fight for his supposed beliefs, crawled under some rock of a wrestling school to teach the next generation the “right way” of doing things. He CHOSE to abandon his fans, his friends and his dreams because he was “tired” of repeating himself.
BOO! FREAKING! HOO!
Guess what flyboy, no one ever listened to you because you never had anything new to say! You’d drone on and on with your psychological technobabble without ever making a damn point! Then got up in arms when us plebeians looked at you sideways with drool coming out of our mouths because we didn’t “get it.”
Excuse us for wanting to be entertained and not lectured.
Excuse us for wanting action and not words.
Excuse us for need a man like me.
9/21/16
12:34 am.
On these long lonely road trips from one arena to the next all you really have are your thoughts and your music and even then it’s mostly your thoughts. You have nothing but time to think about every mistake you ever made, every action you ever regretted, every wasted opportunity. Cable Arcane didn’t like to dwell on the past, he preferred to focus on the present moment and his next course of action but there were some memories that refused to die, refused to stay quiet and as he drove down this empty stretch of I-95 there was one memory that was louder than the rest
It was an especially hot summer day, muggy, it felt like Hell had finally risen up and staked its claim to the world. Cable was a young man then, full of himself and invincible like any other teenager. In his hands was an old wooden push broom, the bristles worn down to almost nothing, barely long enough to move the dirt and sand on the side of the road that he was pushing. His hands ached from busted blisters after hours of sweeping.
“This is bullshit!”
His frustrations got the better of him as he threw the broom down on the pavement and walked briskly toward the main building of his father’s auto body repair shop. He threw himself back first against the red brick wall immediately feeling relief from the shade the overhang on the building provided.
“Son!”
His father’s harsh baritone voice caught him off guard as he jumped and turned to face the “old man” who was only in his forties at the time. He seemed to tower over Cable though they were essentially the same height. His father always carried with him a sense of intimidation and Cable was feeling that now as he tried to stand a little straighter and look a little harder.
“I didn’t know it was break time?”
He spoke with condescending tone that edged toward anger. Cable replied with cockiness in his voice.
“This is bullshit! It’s a million degrees out and I’m standing next to a busy street pushing dirt that’s just going to blow back again tomorrow!”
His father shot him a half grin, the kind he gave someone right before he tore them a new asshole.
“Bullshit? No, it’s a job and if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have something for nothing then pack up your shit and get out! I worked my ass off to give you a place to live, a place to work! You’ve got money in your damn pocket and a place to rest your head which is more than I can say for some of your scum bag friends! Yeah it’s going to blow back tomorrow, the point is to make the lot look good today!”
The grin was gone replaced by anger and disappointment.
“What, you’ve got nothing smart to say now?”
Cable shrank back, he felt like his mother looked all those times his father would yell at her, he hated feeling like this, he hated feeling weak.
“You can’t talk to me-“
Cable was cut off by the blunt force of his father’s skull crashing against the bridge of his nose. The pain was immediate and his blood was flowing as he fell backward onto the pavement. His father now loomed over him, his chest heaving.
“I can talk to you any damn way I please you spoiled little brat!”
His father huffed a laugh at the now embarrassed and teary eyed Cable who cupped his hand under his nose to catch the blood.
“Clean yourself up and get back to work.”
He’d never forgotten that day or how helpless he felt in the moment but he knew then like he knows now, his father was right. Like it or not, right or wrong, to truly be something in this world you have to work your ass off.
You don’t let anyone or anything stand in your way.
So even though he wouldn’t arrive at the next hotel until nearly two in the morning he was still going to get up at five, be training before six, at his first appearance by eight, back in the gym before noon and at the next show for one.
No sleep. No rest. Do whatever it takes to be the best.
Let’s go ahead and expose the big secret here Falcon, you never had a point to prove, you never had a real reason to fight, you got “tired” of “repeating” yourself because you were never known as “the best” just “one of the best” and deep down inside it really pissed you off as friend and foe alike completely buried the memory of Falcon!
Well I’m not really sorry about this but being “one of the best” isn’t good enough for me.
And now that I am where I am, I’m going to make damn sure everyone knows exactly how good I am.
I’m going to stand on that stage, in that ring, on my pedestal week after week telling you and everyone else that I am the Best in the World until someone comes along and proves me otherwise. I didn’t sacrifice ten plus years of my life to bend over backwards to respect a bunch of lazy part timers and even lazier rookies because in your eyes it’s “the right way” to do things.
You did things the “right way” and look where that got you.
Beaten.
Broken.
And most of all, forgotten.
Saying your name garners nothing more than a cheap pop from the keyboard warriors who still wear their Social Enemies t-shirts with your poster on their wall. You’re no more fondly remembered than Joe Everyman or Lex Sense or Andrew Jacobsen, just some nostalgia act that diehards rave to the casuals about. You think you matter, you like to believe you’re up there with the real legends of our industry but the sad truth of the matter is you’re nowhere even close.
I’m not mad that your back, I didn’t throw your name out there three weeks ago out of jealousy to your crowd response.
I’m mad that you left.
I’m mad that the great and honorable Falcon is just as selfish as the men he battled.
I’m mad that you gave up.
I used to look up to you Falcon, I was one of those youtube watching diehard losers in my Immortal t-shirt, painting up my face like an idiot when I used to watch you with my friends on pay per view, imitating your moves off my couch or on a trampoline. I was one of those guys who thought you were the best ever.
Then I met you….
I listened to every word you had to say, I tried my hardest to follow in your footsteps when I finally made it to IWF and even as my world came crashing down around me you were one of the few people who told me never to give up…
I thought you were something special, truly the last of some dying breed of professional wrestler who did it for the fans and for the honor of our sport. I used to look at you and think “That is what professional wrestling is all about.”
Then you walked away. Gave up. Prattled off medical excuses as if a bad back or a weak knee ever stopped you in the past. I was heart broken at first, crushed that a career I idolized ended in such a way, I felt robbed that the great Falcon went out with a whisper.
At first when you came back I was ecstatic, I saw in you as a kindred spirit, someone who would look at what I’m doing and respect it unlike all the other Neanderthals in the crowd. I thought you’d actually listen to what I say, hear me unlike everyone else and understand that I’m trying to raise the talent around here up to my level, the same way you used. I thought you’d “get it”…
But you took an oath of silence….
You promised to not speak a word until you won the Imperial Championship…
And in that moment I realized everything I knew about you was a lie.
“Falcon” doesn’t care about respect or honor, all he cares about is himself. That’s why he mocks me, calls me a cry baby, makes cute little videos in grocery stores. It has nothing to do with proving a point.
It has everything to do with knowing I’m right.
The “Falcon” I knew, respected and idolized would never do something as stupid as holding his voice hostage for an Imperial Championship run. The “Falcon” I imitated never concerned himself with a championship. The “Falcon” I could never forget didn’t need gold to know how good he was. The “Falcon” you’re currently pretending to be doesn’t exist, he may never have existed because the “Falcon” who helped train me wouldn’t have batted an eye at my destruction of his history. He wouldn’t of even cared.
And he would have defended his honor with every fiber of his being instead of enlisting his “voice” to do all the work for him.
He cared about this industry like I care about it. He worried about its future like I worry about it. He wanted to create a legacy that future generations would aspire to imitate like I am now.
I don’t know who you’re pretending to be but what I do know about the man calling himself “Falcon” is you’re a coward.
And I have no patience for cowards.
I worked too hard for too long to lose everything I’ve achieved to a man too afraid to fight and die for what he believes in! Whether it was here in IWF or somewhere else, I have been inside of a ring nearly every day for the last ten years fighting for what I believe in! Willing to die for what I believe in! My reasons may be selfish! But at least I can admit them! I can stand here and tell you I fought and bled for the Imperial Championship! I can stand here with pride and say I sacrificed personal relationships with both friends, family and loved ones to call myself the Best in the World!
Without hesitation I can say I would die before losing the Imperial Championship.
I’m glad you claim championships don’t matter while vowing to stay silent until you have one but in my world, the REAL world, legends aren’t measured by how good they fought in the battle.
They’re measured by the wars they won!
And if you truly want the Imperial Championship, if it truly matters to you this one time then you better be damn ready to go to war with Cable Arcane. You better be ready to give and lose more than you ever have before. I’m not one of your long time rivals, ending your career means nothing to me, when I step into that ring each and every night it is only to further my own career, my own legacy and to continue being the Best in the World and the IWF IMPERIAL CHAMPION!
This championship matters to me, it is the physical representation of everything I have lost to get to where I am and you better be damn sure I’m willing to die for it!
NO SLEEP. NO REST. NO MERCY.
Well I’m not really sorry about this but being “one of the best” isn’t good enough for me.
And now that I am where I am, I’m going to make damn sure everyone knows exactly how good I am.
I’m going to stand on that stage, in that ring, on my pedestal week after week telling you and everyone else that I am the Best in the World until someone comes along and proves me otherwise. I didn’t sacrifice ten plus years of my life to bend over backwards to respect a bunch of lazy part timers and even lazier rookies because in your eyes it’s “the right way” to do things.
You did things the “right way” and look where that got you.
Beaten.
Broken.
And most of all, forgotten.
Saying your name garners nothing more than a cheap pop from the keyboard warriors who still wear their Social Enemies t-shirts with your poster on their wall. You’re no more fondly remembered than Joe Everyman or Lex Sense or Andrew Jacobsen, just some nostalgia act that diehards rave to the casuals about. You think you matter, you like to believe you’re up there with the real legends of our industry but the sad truth of the matter is you’re nowhere even close.
I’m not mad that your back, I didn’t throw your name out there three weeks ago out of jealousy to your crowd response.
I’m mad that you left.
I’m mad that the great and honorable Falcon is just as selfish as the men he battled.
I’m mad that you gave up.
I used to look up to you Falcon, I was one of those youtube watching diehard losers in my Immortal t-shirt, painting up my face like an idiot when I used to watch you with my friends on pay per view, imitating your moves off my couch or on a trampoline. I was one of those guys who thought you were the best ever.
Then I met you….
I listened to every word you had to say, I tried my hardest to follow in your footsteps when I finally made it to IWF and even as my world came crashing down around me you were one of the few people who told me never to give up…
I thought you were something special, truly the last of some dying breed of professional wrestler who did it for the fans and for the honor of our sport. I used to look at you and think “That is what professional wrestling is all about.”
Then you walked away. Gave up. Prattled off medical excuses as if a bad back or a weak knee ever stopped you in the past. I was heart broken at first, crushed that a career I idolized ended in such a way, I felt robbed that the great Falcon went out with a whisper.
At first when you came back I was ecstatic, I saw in you as a kindred spirit, someone who would look at what I’m doing and respect it unlike all the other Neanderthals in the crowd. I thought you’d actually listen to what I say, hear me unlike everyone else and understand that I’m trying to raise the talent around here up to my level, the same way you used. I thought you’d “get it”…
But you took an oath of silence….
You promised to not speak a word until you won the Imperial Championship…
And in that moment I realized everything I knew about you was a lie.
“Falcon” doesn’t care about respect or honor, all he cares about is himself. That’s why he mocks me, calls me a cry baby, makes cute little videos in grocery stores. It has nothing to do with proving a point.
It has everything to do with knowing I’m right.
The “Falcon” I knew, respected and idolized would never do something as stupid as holding his voice hostage for an Imperial Championship run. The “Falcon” I imitated never concerned himself with a championship. The “Falcon” I could never forget didn’t need gold to know how good he was. The “Falcon” you’re currently pretending to be doesn’t exist, he may never have existed because the “Falcon” who helped train me wouldn’t have batted an eye at my destruction of his history. He wouldn’t of even cared.
And he would have defended his honor with every fiber of his being instead of enlisting his “voice” to do all the work for him.
He cared about this industry like I care about it. He worried about its future like I worry about it. He wanted to create a legacy that future generations would aspire to imitate like I am now.
I don’t know who you’re pretending to be but what I do know about the man calling himself “Falcon” is you’re a coward.
And I have no patience for cowards.
I worked too hard for too long to lose everything I’ve achieved to a man too afraid to fight and die for what he believes in! Whether it was here in IWF or somewhere else, I have been inside of a ring nearly every day for the last ten years fighting for what I believe in! Willing to die for what I believe in! My reasons may be selfish! But at least I can admit them! I can stand here and tell you I fought and bled for the Imperial Championship! I can stand here with pride and say I sacrificed personal relationships with both friends, family and loved ones to call myself the Best in the World!
Without hesitation I can say I would die before losing the Imperial Championship.
I’m glad you claim championships don’t matter while vowing to stay silent until you have one but in my world, the REAL world, legends aren’t measured by how good they fought in the battle.
They’re measured by the wars they won!
And if you truly want the Imperial Championship, if it truly matters to you this one time then you better be damn ready to go to war with Cable Arcane. You better be ready to give and lose more than you ever have before. I’m not one of your long time rivals, ending your career means nothing to me, when I step into that ring each and every night it is only to further my own career, my own legacy and to continue being the Best in the World and the IWF IMPERIAL CHAMPION!
This championship matters to me, it is the physical representation of everything I have lost to get to where I am and you better be damn sure I’m willing to die for it!
NO SLEEP. NO REST. NO MERCY.
9/21/16
11:59 pm.
His head crashed on a stiff motel room pillow like a boulder in a mud slide. His body felt like it had been through a meat grinder but the feel of the cold gold medallion beneath his palm made it all worth it.
Slowly he reached into his pocket for his cell phone, casually swiping open the screen as he brought it over his face. For a moment he hesitated just looking at the screen before clicking the phone icon and then the one for voicemail…
There burning a hole in his soul was a two-year-old voicemail from his father. One he’d sent Cable only weeks before deciding to end his life. Every now and then Cable would listen to it, to remind himself how much he hated the “old man” or at least that’s what he told himself. Even now as his thumb over the play icon he remembered every fight they ever had and every insult they’d ever hurled at each other…
“Cable… Father bear here… Just wanted to see how you’re doing… It’s been a while…”
He could hear the drunkenness in his voice, the ever so slightly slurred words, his father was the main reason Cable had never touched a drop of alcohol.
“I-I’m proud of you son…”
He closed his eyes and shuddered as the call once again came to its inevitable end…
He took a long deep breath before once more opening his eyes.
“Message deleted.”
No rest…
Well howdy there pardner.