Post by Dre Cutler on Sept 26, 2016 0:15:57 GMT
Dre Cutler, clad in a pair of white Nike basketball shorts, sits on the edge of the steel chair in the middle of his living room. His apartment still lacks furniture and many personal items that are the norm inside a person's home. But due to his schedule, he hasn't really had the time to remedy the situation. And honestly, he hasn't really felt the need to make time to do it -- what he has in his apartment is more than enough for him at the moment. His elbows are dug into his thighs as he's bent forward, clutching a tablet tightly in his hands.
Dre Cutler: God damn...
He trails off as he watches Cable Arcane do his best to rearrange his face with vicious right hands during their match to conclude the Heir to the Throne. The video is a reworked and repackaged viewing of their match, sent to him by Gabe Rogers. It's a gift that Gabe feels Dre needs now more than ever as the flame from his debut in the Imperial Wrestling Federation has all but fizzled out to this point. And Gabe hopes viewing this match; studying it and learning from it, can lead to relighting that fire.
"Ill Mind of Hopsin 7" pierces Dre's ears as his cell phone starts going crazy. He scrunches his nose as he pauses the video and places the tablet gently on the hardwood floor and picks up his phone in the process. He looks at the screen, a tiny smirk crossing his face as he answers it.
Dre Cutler: What's up, Zeph?
Zeph Frazier: Yo, Dre, how's things in Whiteville, USA, cuz?
Dre Cutler: Things are -- things are good, Zeph, as good as they can be, I guess.
Zeph Frazier: I got some news for you, cuz.
Dre purses his lips as his mind runs wild trying to figure out what news Zeph could possibly have for him. An awkward delay follows Zeph's statement, leading to Dre raising his left arm and bouncing his shoulders; showing irritation but knowing very well a visual conversational tool doesn't translate well over a telephone. He hears Zeph giggling like a school girl; he sighs softly realizing Zeph isn't going to tell him until Dre flatters him with a response.
Dre Cutler: And your news is?
Zeph Frazier: I know it's been a few weeks, man, but I finally got through to Francis.
Dre's stomach bottoms out as he remembers the conversation they had a little while ago in the very room he's inhabiting.
Dre Cutler: Yeah?
Zeph Frazier: He's gonna let you back into the gym, cuz! I got your spot back, so you can pack your shit and come back to where the cool kids stay.
From the original conversation to this very moment, Dre's had mixed emotions about the whole situation. He's been undecided, unsure of himself, and doubtful about his aspirations moving forward. Yes, he doesn't fit in where he's staying. He's probably one wrong word or misplaced glare away from getting himself killed. No one wants him here; no one, that is, except for Gabe Rogers and Kelsey Grace.
He can hear the excitement in Zeph's voice, the joy coming through the phone with yet another giggle.
Zeph Frazier: You need your homeboy to help you move back?
Dre Cutler: I'm -- Zeph, I --
He trails off, his emotions are battling within him. His mind is trying to tell him one thing while his heart is telling him another.
Zeph Frazier: What, cuz?
Dre Cutler: I -- listen, I appreciate you putting your neck out for me like that, okay? I know you put your wrestling aspirations on the line. But -- fuck, man, I can't believe I'm saying this -- but this is my home now, you hear? I've, I've set up shop; I got some people here that care about me and want me to succeed. I -- I just can't throw that all away, you know?
Zeph Frazier: You're -- you're kidding, right? You've never been funny, cuz, your timing on your jokes has always been off and your presentation needs work.
Dre opens his mouth to respond, but nothing other than air comes out. He can feel the emotions change on the other end of the line, somehow he's feeling the tension that's rising off Zeph's skin like heat on blacktop as he realizes that Dre isn't joking.
Zeph Frazier: You're really turning your back on me, cuz?
Dre Cutler: Fuck no, Zeph, I am not turning my back on you -- not at all -- I'm just saying what's done is done, you hear? I was kicked out of the gym, I had to make changes. My path lead me to where I am now. And I've put down roots, right? That's all I'm saying -- I'm not turning my back on your or anyone else.
Zeph Frazier: Right, Dre, right -- you're just a fucking fraud, a fake, man. I stuck up for you all through childhood 'cause I thought you were my boy. All of the homies tried to show me what a fake nigga you were, but I punched them in the mouth because I didn't want to hear them talking about you like that.
Dre Cutler: I'm not --
Zeph Frazier: (cutting him off) But they were right all along, you don't have any loyalty, cuz. You're just a misguided black man thinking he still needs to bend over for the white man.
Dre Cutler: That's bullshit, and you --
Click.
Dre pulls the phone from his ear and looks at the screen; Zeph hung up on him. He stares at the screen for a couple of seconds, rage starting to build within as he replays their conversation in his head. He lets out a loud yell as he drops the phone to the floor and buries his head in his hands; letting his mind race and cast doubts as silence and loneliness fills the air around him.
----------
Dre Cutler: God damn...
He trails off as he watches Cable Arcane do his best to rearrange his face with vicious right hands during their match to conclude the Heir to the Throne. The video is a reworked and repackaged viewing of their match, sent to him by Gabe Rogers. It's a gift that Gabe feels Dre needs now more than ever as the flame from his debut in the Imperial Wrestling Federation has all but fizzled out to this point. And Gabe hopes viewing this match; studying it and learning from it, can lead to relighting that fire.
"Ill Mind of Hopsin 7" pierces Dre's ears as his cell phone starts going crazy. He scrunches his nose as he pauses the video and places the tablet gently on the hardwood floor and picks up his phone in the process. He looks at the screen, a tiny smirk crossing his face as he answers it.
Dre Cutler: What's up, Zeph?
Zeph Frazier: Yo, Dre, how's things in Whiteville, USA, cuz?
Dre Cutler: Things are -- things are good, Zeph, as good as they can be, I guess.
Zeph Frazier: I got some news for you, cuz.
Dre purses his lips as his mind runs wild trying to figure out what news Zeph could possibly have for him. An awkward delay follows Zeph's statement, leading to Dre raising his left arm and bouncing his shoulders; showing irritation but knowing very well a visual conversational tool doesn't translate well over a telephone. He hears Zeph giggling like a school girl; he sighs softly realizing Zeph isn't going to tell him until Dre flatters him with a response.
Dre Cutler: And your news is?
Zeph Frazier: I know it's been a few weeks, man, but I finally got through to Francis.
Dre's stomach bottoms out as he remembers the conversation they had a little while ago in the very room he's inhabiting.
Dre Cutler: Yeah?
Zeph Frazier: He's gonna let you back into the gym, cuz! I got your spot back, so you can pack your shit and come back to where the cool kids stay.
From the original conversation to this very moment, Dre's had mixed emotions about the whole situation. He's been undecided, unsure of himself, and doubtful about his aspirations moving forward. Yes, he doesn't fit in where he's staying. He's probably one wrong word or misplaced glare away from getting himself killed. No one wants him here; no one, that is, except for Gabe Rogers and Kelsey Grace.
He can hear the excitement in Zeph's voice, the joy coming through the phone with yet another giggle.
Zeph Frazier: You need your homeboy to help you move back?
Dre Cutler: I'm -- Zeph, I --
He trails off, his emotions are battling within him. His mind is trying to tell him one thing while his heart is telling him another.
Zeph Frazier: What, cuz?
Dre Cutler: I -- listen, I appreciate you putting your neck out for me like that, okay? I know you put your wrestling aspirations on the line. But -- fuck, man, I can't believe I'm saying this -- but this is my home now, you hear? I've, I've set up shop; I got some people here that care about me and want me to succeed. I -- I just can't throw that all away, you know?
Zeph Frazier: You're -- you're kidding, right? You've never been funny, cuz, your timing on your jokes has always been off and your presentation needs work.
Dre opens his mouth to respond, but nothing other than air comes out. He can feel the emotions change on the other end of the line, somehow he's feeling the tension that's rising off Zeph's skin like heat on blacktop as he realizes that Dre isn't joking.
Zeph Frazier: You're really turning your back on me, cuz?
Dre Cutler: Fuck no, Zeph, I am not turning my back on you -- not at all -- I'm just saying what's done is done, you hear? I was kicked out of the gym, I had to make changes. My path lead me to where I am now. And I've put down roots, right? That's all I'm saying -- I'm not turning my back on your or anyone else.
Zeph Frazier: Right, Dre, right -- you're just a fucking fraud, a fake, man. I stuck up for you all through childhood 'cause I thought you were my boy. All of the homies tried to show me what a fake nigga you were, but I punched them in the mouth because I didn't want to hear them talking about you like that.
Dre Cutler: I'm not --
Zeph Frazier: (cutting him off) But they were right all along, you don't have any loyalty, cuz. You're just a misguided black man thinking he still needs to bend over for the white man.
Dre Cutler: That's bullshit, and you --
Click.
Dre pulls the phone from his ear and looks at the screen; Zeph hung up on him. He stares at the screen for a couple of seconds, rage starting to build within as he replays their conversation in his head. He lets out a loud yell as he drops the phone to the floor and buries his head in his hands; letting his mind race and cast doubts as silence and loneliness fills the air around him.
----------
IWF Man of Steel champion.
It's been said that sometimes you need to take a step back to take multiple steps forward.
I was seconds away from earning an opportunity to battle for the IWF Imperial championship a few short weeks ago. I came up short, I've admitted that before and I'll admit it today. I'm a man of my word, I'm not a man of excuses. But my sights have remained fixated on the gold, and the man that now wears the strap, Cable Arcane. My endgame involves another match with him and a sequel that fixes the incorrect ending from the original. A match that ends with me becoming the face of this company.
That's what I want, but it's apparent that I'm going to have to prove to everyone that is what I deserve. And I'm fine with that, Dre Cutler accepts that fate and I'm willing to pick up a few accomplishments along my path to redemption. I find myself with a golden, no pun intended, opportunity this week to claim the Man of Steel championship. Yes, I said, figuratively, that one has to take a step back to move forward, but the Man of Steel title isn't some lackadaisical visage of an accomplishment. It has meaning, it's been held by some of the greats this company has seen. And while it's not the Imperial championship, it's a title that carries weight and Dre Cutler is here to win everything.
So while it's not my endgame, it's something I take very seriously.
Spike Kane. Bob Pooler. James Franklin Karn.
Three men I have to fight through if I have any hope of winning the gold.
Spike, let me start with you, I've been seeing a lot more of you than I'd personally like lately. You've become something similar to a gray hair. You know, you look in the mirror one morning, and you notice that you have one strand of gray. It's infuriating, annoying, and kind of disheartening. You come back the next morning, you look in the mirror, and now you have three strands of gray hair. They are multiplying, spreading like the fake cancer you claimed to have, and it's getting even more annoying.
In other words, you're a nuisance, Spike. Seeing you causes me to feel disappointment. I run to the store, grab some Just for Men, and take care of the gray hair -- but in a few weeks, you're back. You just don't know when to go away, you hear?
Your time, your acceptance in the limelight, ended years ago. Quite frankly, I'm getting a little annoyed at this point that I have to continue to deal with you on what seems to be a weekly basis. I'm trying to fight my way towards Cable Arcane but somehow you keep stepping in front of me. Why are you protecting him? You know he is the champion, right? Have you lost all of your fighting spirit?
You know, FIGHT SPIKE FIGHT!
Do you even know what that means anymore?
Do you not wish to win the top belt?
Is that why you're trying to target the Man of Steel championship, because you look at the potential opponents and feel better about your chances? Guys like Cable Arcane scare you?
You know the phrase -- if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
Is that where you are in your career, Spike?
I feel like you've lost yourself along the way. You keep going into battles where the number game favors you far more than you opponent. You step to the plate for a one-on-one fight but you have your backup around the corner. Your balls must have shriveled with old age and we are left with the current Spike Kane, a shell of the man that used to dominate the industry and put his life on the line to be the best, night in and night out.
The current Spike Kane comes to a fork in the road and chooses what he feels is the easiest path to move forward. You run away from challenges instead of meeting them head on. That's why your in this match, you think it's an easier goal to achieve than being "the man."
Wrong.
You're gonna get punched just as hard as Cable would punch you.
And your shoulders will be pinned to the mat for three seconds.
The results will be the same as they would be if you manned up and went for Cable.
So, choose another direction the next time you reach the fork in the road.
Bob Pooler, I'm honored to be in this match with you. I realize that, unofficially, you and I are fighting on the same side here. The House needs to be taken down, and IWF needs to be returned to the greatness it once had. And with those imbeciles running around and breaking all of the rules, some of which should end in criminal charges, the wrestling industry will continue to turn its back on this organization. They have to be taken down, and I respect that you are as deep into this battle as I am.
But when the bell rings, you and I are fighting a battle against one another. Spike Kane is in the match, but we're not chasing The House. We're chasing the championship. And I know you want to win it as much as I do. As much as anyone in the match. And I know that, and that's why I'm not going to be sorry when the times comes for Dre TO SAY HEY!
But after the match, I will continue to stand by your side as we fight the same battle. But this match, Bob, I'm going to bring it and I expect the same from you. You've been pushed around and bullied by The House. You have a chip on your shoulder, a desire to prove to everyone that you still have so much to bring to the table. You want to show the entire wrestling world that Bob Pooler is still someone people need to respect.
And I want to accomplish just the same. I've been fighting for respect since I signed my name on the dotted line. I've been doing everything I can to cement my status as someone that needs to be respected.
And the best way to really add to the argument is to win some gold.
So good luck, Bob, but I'm not doing to go down without a fight.
And then there's Mr. Karn. The man that claimed he was Man of Steel before he was Man of Steel. The guy that has squandered opportunity after opportunity.
I've said many times over the months I'm an avid student of the game. I know more about my opponents than they know about themselves by the time we hit the ring. So as I say that, I say this, with all due respect, your reign ends at Extreme Endurance.
You're a man that seems to be too preoccupied with the politics within the wrestling industry. Trying to snake your way around barriers and escape trouble instead of facing it head on. You sit in the background while the likes of Spike Kane and Cable Arcane run rampant through this company. You tuck your fists in your pockets and instead go to paper wars with IWF management about who the rightful challenger is for your title.
You let my name escape your mouth, Karn. You wanted me.
I'm here.
I'm here and that's bad fucking news for you.
You looked at me, saw a nobody, a nothing, much like everyone else. And when the challenges from the likes of Ryan Shane and Spike Kane came through, you tosses your legal representatives at them and tucked your tail between your legs. You looked at me and said I'm the man that deserves the shot.
You saw an easier "W," didn't you?
Your vision is as blurred as your morale values, James. I'm not claiming to be the greatest, at least not yet, but I know I'm on the right path. I know I have what it takes to reach that pinnacle at some point in my career. And I take a giant leap towards it this week when I walk out of the arena with the same belt that you entered it with.
Shit happens, Karn.
And once that bell rings, your lawyers and Goodwill suit wearing goons can't protect you.
And that's all Dre has to say, I'll see you all at Extreme Endurance.
Well howdy there pardner.