Post by Dre Cutler on Jun 25, 2017 17:56:39 GMT
June 7th, 2017
"Matt?"
Kelsey Grace, clad in a pair of beige shorts and a blue shirt, steps into the living room of her apartment and closes the door softly behind her. She pauses; taking a quick look around the room with a puzzled expression glued to her face. She sighs quietly prior to walking deeper into the room, and sitting her shopping bags on the armchair.
Kelsey Grace: (shouting) Matt?
She calls his name again, half-expecting a second attempt to garner a response. She looks down at her stomach, grimacing as the baby rolls circles inside the womb. She rubs the surface of her belly, trying to calm the baby down a little and ease the discomfort.
"You're home already?"
Matt Vick, clad in only a pair of faded blue jeans, emerges from the hallway and stops at the edge of the room. His face is bright red, hair aloof, and eyes heavy as he looks across the way at his pregnant girlfriend. She looks back at him, catching his eyes for only a moment before turning her gaze towards the shopping bags and shrugging.
Kelsey Grace: I don't know; it's like -- it's like once I was in the store, everything that I wanted called out to me.
Matt Vick: Did you blow through the gift card?
Kelsey Grace: (sighing) Yeah, is that bad?
Matt Vick: Why would that be a bad thing, babe? It's a gift card, to a store all about babies, I'd been shocked if you didn't spend it all.
Kelsey smiles, feeling a sense of relief that he's not upset with her. She takes a step forward, reaching into one of the bags with a sense of excitement.
Kelsey Grace: You want to see what I got her?
Matt Vick: Actually, I have to head out, babe -- but I'm sure you got her some amazing things. You can show me some of the stuff later, okay?
The words barely escape his mouth prior to him marching deeper into the room. Kelsey's heart sinks a little, feeling a sense of disappointment that he isn't interested in seeing any of the items she purchased for their baby. She perks up, if only for a moment, as he moves towards her -- but her glee is gone as fast as it came as he brushes past her and grabs his jacket off the couch.
Kelsey Grace: I won't ask where you're going -- I get it, that's none of my business, but will you be back for dinner?
Matt Vick: I'm no--
He stops mid-sentence as an orange bottle without a label falls from his jacket and crashes to the floor. He immediately looks at it, and snatches it up as quickly as he can. Kelsey's eyes go wide, and immediately fill with tears as she watches in horror. She opens her mouth to say something, but Matt holds up a finger, motioning for her to stop. His expression is cold, with a hint of anger -- his entire demeanor has changed.
Matt Vick: Don't, okay? It's none of your business.
Kelsey Grace: You're -- you're using again?
Matt Vick: I said it's none of your business, do you understand?
Kelsey Grace: Fuck you, Matt, I think it's very much my fucking business, okay?
She takes a couple of big steps towards him; and instinct kicks in as she nears, and Matt raises his left hand and shoves her. The force from his shove sends her stumbling backwards, causing her heel to clip the armchair and send her crumbling to the floor. The look of pure horror on her face as she looks up at Matt is undeniable, and for his part, his expression has remained completely the same.
Matt Vick: Just back off, Kelsey, you hear me? Back the fuck off.
And with that, he takes a good, hard look at her before turning on his heel and powering towards the door. He opens it wide, steps out, and slams it shut behind him. Kelsey looks at the door, prior to squeezing her eyes closed and popping them back open -- as if she's trying to force all of this into nothing but a figment of her imagination. She takes a couple of deep breaths as she pushes on various parts of her stomach; searching frantically for a sign of movement from the baby.
It takes a couple of seconds, but eventually she feels the baby kick in response to her poking. A sense of relief pours over her, but only for a second as she comprehends the severity of what transpired. She pauses, trying to figure out the appropriate response for the moment.
Kelsey Grace: (mumbling) Piece of shit...
She grabs onto the armchair and pulls herself to a standing position. She digs into the pocket of her shorts and pulls out her cell phone.
--
They embrace once again before Dre turns on his heel and heads in the direction from which he came. Frankie watches with his hands on his hips as Cutler reaches the exit and steps out of the gym, letting the door slam shut behind him. He doesn't get but a few steps away from the gym before his phone starts to ring. He smirks as he digs into his pocket and pulls it out; thinking it may be Frankie calling him already.
Dre Cutler: I ---
He stumbles through his words, losing track of them and trailing off into nothing as he locks eyes with his screen. The number isn't saved into his phone but he recognizes it as soon as he sees it. He swallows hard; struggling to breathe as if his body has forgotten how to do something that's always happened naturally.
Dre Cutler: Kelsey...
--------
Jason Sandman.
The most vulgar, and careless individual the wrestling world has ever experienced. This man -- I swear, given the opportunity, he'd take a kendo stick to the head of his own Mother. And the kicker -- the kicker is, he'd do it with a smile on his face. And when her body hits the floor, his instinct would be to raise it above his head and hit her again.
And you know what? That's a good fucking instinct to have.
That's exactly why you've reached the heights you've achieved, Jason. You don't give a fuck about anyone. You don't care about anyone's well being, not even your own. You're willing to do whatever it takes, whenever necessary, to achieve your endgame. Which, funny enough, isn't always a victory -- sometimes, or better yet, most times you're in the ring with the goal of inflicting as much pain as humanly possible.
That's you.
That's Jason Sandman.
And for someone to try to understand why your mind works like that -- for someone to try to pick your antics apart, and figure you out, is a damn near impossible objective. It's maddening; it's a waste of time -- and that's what makes you so deadly.
And that's why I am excited to face you at Bloody Assizes.
See, you may scare many, but Dre Cutler doesn't fall into that group.
I don't agree with your antics, nor do I feel any way close to how you do about inflicting pain, but I respect the approach. It's why you've been so successful, as I've said.
You're a huge name in the industry. The fans of IWF may just be getting acquainted to your behavior, but I consider myself a student of the game. I know what you've done, and I know what you're capable of doing. And while you are successful, you're nothing more than a name on the roster in this organization. So, truthfully, on the surface -- this match does absolutely nothing for Dre Cutler as I make my approach back to the top of this company.
But for me -- on a personal level -- this match means everything.
To be the best, you cannot sidestep challenging wrestlers.
To be the best, you have to be able to adapt and take on anyone, everyone.
To be the best, you have to prove that you're not scared or deterred by any man.
And for my road to redemption to reach the heights it needs to -- you, Jason, have to go down.
You've only been here for a couple of weeks. And during your time here, you've turned more heads than many wrestlers manage in the span of six months. People already knew you, but now they are paying attention to you. Waiting, whispering as they anticipate your next move. Many individuals are scared of you; I hear the murmurs, I see the expressions.
Dre Cutler -- he doesn't fear anyone.
And I don't avoid any challenge.
I'm always up for a fight, and that's why you excite me so much because I know you're going to fucking bring it. I know you're going to be salivating at the opportunity to crush my skull with that cane. I know you want to leave me in a puddle of blood and a pile of bones in the middle of the ring.
Bring it.
Try it.
Can you take me out, Jason? When you look at me, do you see me as a legitimate threat?
Probably not -- and to that I say, you're fucking in for a rude awakening.
People have refused to take me seriously my entire life. Inside the ring, out of it, it doesn't matter. And I've spent my entire life proving people wrong. The ending to my career has already been written -- and it ends with my firmly entrenched at the top of the proverbial mountain. All that's left is the middle -- the how, why, where, and who -- and I'm in the process of penning the entire fucking thing right in front of all of you.
I have what it takes to be the best.
And I already know I am better than you, Jason.
And this week, I'm going to stare the monster in the eyes and I'm going to kick you right in the face.
And there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
Your chapter has already been written -- and this week, inside the ring, it plays out for the entire world to see.
See you then, Jason.
The most vulgar, and careless individual the wrestling world has ever experienced. This man -- I swear, given the opportunity, he'd take a kendo stick to the head of his own Mother. And the kicker -- the kicker is, he'd do it with a smile on his face. And when her body hits the floor, his instinct would be to raise it above his head and hit her again.
And you know what? That's a good fucking instinct to have.
That's exactly why you've reached the heights you've achieved, Jason. You don't give a fuck about anyone. You don't care about anyone's well being, not even your own. You're willing to do whatever it takes, whenever necessary, to achieve your endgame. Which, funny enough, isn't always a victory -- sometimes, or better yet, most times you're in the ring with the goal of inflicting as much pain as humanly possible.
That's you.
That's Jason Sandman.
And for someone to try to understand why your mind works like that -- for someone to try to pick your antics apart, and figure you out, is a damn near impossible objective. It's maddening; it's a waste of time -- and that's what makes you so deadly.
And that's why I am excited to face you at Bloody Assizes.
See, you may scare many, but Dre Cutler doesn't fall into that group.
I don't agree with your antics, nor do I feel any way close to how you do about inflicting pain, but I respect the approach. It's why you've been so successful, as I've said.
You're a huge name in the industry. The fans of IWF may just be getting acquainted to your behavior, but I consider myself a student of the game. I know what you've done, and I know what you're capable of doing. And while you are successful, you're nothing more than a name on the roster in this organization. So, truthfully, on the surface -- this match does absolutely nothing for Dre Cutler as I make my approach back to the top of this company.
But for me -- on a personal level -- this match means everything.
To be the best, you cannot sidestep challenging wrestlers.
To be the best, you have to be able to adapt and take on anyone, everyone.
To be the best, you have to prove that you're not scared or deterred by any man.
And for my road to redemption to reach the heights it needs to -- you, Jason, have to go down.
You've only been here for a couple of weeks. And during your time here, you've turned more heads than many wrestlers manage in the span of six months. People already knew you, but now they are paying attention to you. Waiting, whispering as they anticipate your next move. Many individuals are scared of you; I hear the murmurs, I see the expressions.
Dre Cutler -- he doesn't fear anyone.
And I don't avoid any challenge.
I'm always up for a fight, and that's why you excite me so much because I know you're going to fucking bring it. I know you're going to be salivating at the opportunity to crush my skull with that cane. I know you want to leave me in a puddle of blood and a pile of bones in the middle of the ring.
Bring it.
Try it.
Can you take me out, Jason? When you look at me, do you see me as a legitimate threat?
Probably not -- and to that I say, you're fucking in for a rude awakening.
People have refused to take me seriously my entire life. Inside the ring, out of it, it doesn't matter. And I've spent my entire life proving people wrong. The ending to my career has already been written -- and it ends with my firmly entrenched at the top of the proverbial mountain. All that's left is the middle -- the how, why, where, and who -- and I'm in the process of penning the entire fucking thing right in front of all of you.
I have what it takes to be the best.
And I already know I am better than you, Jason.
And this week, I'm going to stare the monster in the eyes and I'm going to kick you right in the face.
And there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
Your chapter has already been written -- and this week, inside the ring, it plays out for the entire world to see.
See you then, Jason.
Well howdy there pardner.