Post by Jon Moxley / The Wyatt Family on Aug 20, 2014 23:24:47 GMT -5
"I want out."
The look on his face pisses me off. Beno. He's a good wrestler, but he always seemed to look down on us peons with disdain. Those of us who'd never got our chances. It seemed the more I saw any of their faces, the more angry I got.
"Why? We need the manpower." He says. I almost laugh, at the stupidity of the statement. Beno's a smart guy. But maybe he's not smart enough to know I'm taking a life boat off the sinking ship.
"The Knight are dying- hell, they're dead. None of us new recruits have gotten anything. No chances. Listen, my feelings on JTB are well known-"
"Your loss to him is driving you insane. I can see it, it's bothering you. Is it keeping you up at night?" Fury begins boiling in the pit of my stomach. Because he was right. I hadn't had very much sleep since that loss a few weeks ago. I hate to be dramatic and seem like a little bitch, but I think it had a huge psychological effect on me. I hadn't won it. I hadn't beaten Joey. I didn't grab that brass ring. I didn't even get within a fingertip's reach.
I resisted the urge to reach out and slap him. I had to be professional. These guys were dangerous.
"Well, regardless of the fact I don't like him, he's gotten the same treatment. He hasn't admitted it yet, but I can see it with my own two eyes. We haven't gotten shit from being in this group. I'm out. I'll see you next Monday." I refuse to look him in the eyes. If I did and I saw rage, I would've gone back. Retracted my statement about wanting to leave. I'd beg him to ignore it. No, no I had to keep with my decision. Nothing they did could stop me.
How wrong I was.
****
Sometimes, when it was quiet and Troy was alone, he could still feel the chains on his arms that secured him to the cold cement wall, the rope that also held his abdomen. He knew what had happened was completely illegal. But he couldn't bring himself to call the police. He couldn't bring himself to report every single one of those motherfuckers for what they did to him, keeping him a prisoner. His car sometimes felt like the dungeon he was kept in. Cramped. He felt short of breath sometimes as he got suddenly claustrophobic. He thought of the beatings.
He was just arriving to the arena for the new RAW when the fans swarmed. Wanting autographs. Smarks, mostly. Troy wasn't the biggest star by any means, but his appearance on RAW caused a bit of a stir among the internet wrestling community. Some thought it was a stunt to cause publicity and to bring Troy back in. If only they knew that Troy had very real animosity for ThyWWE, and its fans.
He refused pictures. He refused to sign autographs. But they pressed in on him, telling him it was his job. He felt the anger flare.
He didn't know what he said. He didn't know the words, the no doubt hateful words that spewed forth. All he knew were he walked away amid gasps a crying children. Inside, he felt satisfaction.
Ungrateful little shits.
As he went through the arena, he was stopped at various points by some employees. The costume chick who assembled superstars attires. Troy said he'd just wear what he had on. The tech people who asked him what his entrance was gonna be. He just said he was gonna go to the concessions, buy himself a drink before his match, and probably get into the arena the same way the fans do. As long as they didn't touch him, he'd be fine.
After he'd dropped his stuff off in the locker room. He began wandering the arena, but his path became oddly specific, only because he swore he saw him. Walking about the hallways. Troy began following whichever path he saw him. This guy just didn't stop. Where was he even trying to go? Troy was beginning to lose his patience. He was suddenly stopped- someone's hand on his shoulder.
He turned around fast, fist raised-
And it was the skinny interviewer dude! The one who had interviewed him throughout his issues with Joey the Bastard. What was his name? Tom... Todd....Josh.... Kyle.... something like that.
The poor guy nearly jumped out his skin when he saw Troy's upraised fist, but Troy smirked and lowered it.
"Oh hey, interviewer dude! You motherfucker you... what do you want?" Troy said, patting him on the back a little hard.
"I.... I was, uh, wondering if I could interview you? If you have the time?"
Troy considered for a moment.
"Ah, what the hell. Why not."
"Uh, uh, uhm, thanks. Okay, here we go." The red light on the camera activated.
"Troy, lat week you returned to ThyWWE in an unorthodox fashion. Why did you come back all of a sudden?"
"Well, I never truly left, or at least, I didn't do it under my own power."
"Care to explain, then? What caused you to leave after your match with Joey the Bastard?" Rage flared up in Troy for a moment, but he calmed down. He could've put it in a much more insulting way, so Troy accepted the question as is.
"Well, let's just say some of the more higher ups in this company can expect me to assault them, swiftly and brutally. Next question." Ooh, Troy though. That was a good threat.
"Well, uh, what do you think about your opponent tonight?"
"My opponent has been announced?" Of course no one told Troy. When he was taking prisoner, he didn't have many in the way of friends.
"Yeah, tonight you'll be facing Jordan Turner."
"Who?"
"I said Jordan Turner." The interviewer then went on some spiel presumably about Mr. Turner. Troy ignored him. He became lost in thought.
Sure he hadn't heard about Turner, but Vince wouldn't make this match easy, that much was obvious. So Jordan Turner would clearly be a challenge. But Troy was too determined. He won't, couldn't, can't lose tonight.
Troy came out of his reverie, and still the interviewer was talking. Jesus. Troy resisted the urge to slam him, before interrupting.
"Jordan Turner," Troy began, facing the camera. "I know you'll be a challenge, Vince wouldn't make this easy on me. But I want you to listen, listen verrryyy carefully. You are now a rung on the ladder. And I'm beginning my climb up this ladder, and you are the next rung a have to step on so I can boost myself up. So, I would highly suggest you step down, you forfeit now, because I'm gonna use you to prove that I am dominant, that I am the best in this company. It'll be violent. Hell, it might even be bloody. Just cling to hope, Jordan, that security stops me before I kill you."
And that's it. Troy walks away, not another word. He lets the threat hang.
And now as he thinks about it, he realizes that he wasn't following a real person. A figment of his imagination, but it was a person whom he hated so much, a person who he knew had so much to do with his capture. A person who Troy needed to get vengeance on.
Beno.
The look on his face pisses me off. Beno. He's a good wrestler, but he always seemed to look down on us peons with disdain. Those of us who'd never got our chances. It seemed the more I saw any of their faces, the more angry I got.
"Why? We need the manpower." He says. I almost laugh, at the stupidity of the statement. Beno's a smart guy. But maybe he's not smart enough to know I'm taking a life boat off the sinking ship.
"The Knight are dying- hell, they're dead. None of us new recruits have gotten anything. No chances. Listen, my feelings on JTB are well known-"
"Your loss to him is driving you insane. I can see it, it's bothering you. Is it keeping you up at night?" Fury begins boiling in the pit of my stomach. Because he was right. I hadn't had very much sleep since that loss a few weeks ago. I hate to be dramatic and seem like a little bitch, but I think it had a huge psychological effect on me. I hadn't won it. I hadn't beaten Joey. I didn't grab that brass ring. I didn't even get within a fingertip's reach.
I resisted the urge to reach out and slap him. I had to be professional. These guys were dangerous.
"Well, regardless of the fact I don't like him, he's gotten the same treatment. He hasn't admitted it yet, but I can see it with my own two eyes. We haven't gotten shit from being in this group. I'm out. I'll see you next Monday." I refuse to look him in the eyes. If I did and I saw rage, I would've gone back. Retracted my statement about wanting to leave. I'd beg him to ignore it. No, no I had to keep with my decision. Nothing they did could stop me.
How wrong I was.
****
Sometimes, when it was quiet and Troy was alone, he could still feel the chains on his arms that secured him to the cold cement wall, the rope that also held his abdomen. He knew what had happened was completely illegal. But he couldn't bring himself to call the police. He couldn't bring himself to report every single one of those motherfuckers for what they did to him, keeping him a prisoner. His car sometimes felt like the dungeon he was kept in. Cramped. He felt short of breath sometimes as he got suddenly claustrophobic. He thought of the beatings.
He was just arriving to the arena for the new RAW when the fans swarmed. Wanting autographs. Smarks, mostly. Troy wasn't the biggest star by any means, but his appearance on RAW caused a bit of a stir among the internet wrestling community. Some thought it was a stunt to cause publicity and to bring Troy back in. If only they knew that Troy had very real animosity for ThyWWE, and its fans.
He refused pictures. He refused to sign autographs. But they pressed in on him, telling him it was his job. He felt the anger flare.
He didn't know what he said. He didn't know the words, the no doubt hateful words that spewed forth. All he knew were he walked away amid gasps a crying children. Inside, he felt satisfaction.
Ungrateful little shits.
As he went through the arena, he was stopped at various points by some employees. The costume chick who assembled superstars attires. Troy said he'd just wear what he had on. The tech people who asked him what his entrance was gonna be. He just said he was gonna go to the concessions, buy himself a drink before his match, and probably get into the arena the same way the fans do. As long as they didn't touch him, he'd be fine.
After he'd dropped his stuff off in the locker room. He began wandering the arena, but his path became oddly specific, only because he swore he saw him. Walking about the hallways. Troy began following whichever path he saw him. This guy just didn't stop. Where was he even trying to go? Troy was beginning to lose his patience. He was suddenly stopped- someone's hand on his shoulder.
He turned around fast, fist raised-
And it was the skinny interviewer dude! The one who had interviewed him throughout his issues with Joey the Bastard. What was his name? Tom... Todd....Josh.... Kyle.... something like that.
The poor guy nearly jumped out his skin when he saw Troy's upraised fist, but Troy smirked and lowered it.
"Oh hey, interviewer dude! You motherfucker you... what do you want?" Troy said, patting him on the back a little hard.
"I.... I was, uh, wondering if I could interview you? If you have the time?"
Troy considered for a moment.
"Ah, what the hell. Why not."
"Uh, uh, uhm, thanks. Okay, here we go." The red light on the camera activated.
"Troy, lat week you returned to ThyWWE in an unorthodox fashion. Why did you come back all of a sudden?"
"Well, I never truly left, or at least, I didn't do it under my own power."
"Care to explain, then? What caused you to leave after your match with Joey the Bastard?" Rage flared up in Troy for a moment, but he calmed down. He could've put it in a much more insulting way, so Troy accepted the question as is.
"Well, let's just say some of the more higher ups in this company can expect me to assault them, swiftly and brutally. Next question." Ooh, Troy though. That was a good threat.
"Well, uh, what do you think about your opponent tonight?"
"My opponent has been announced?" Of course no one told Troy. When he was taking prisoner, he didn't have many in the way of friends.
"Yeah, tonight you'll be facing Jordan Turner."
"Who?"
"I said Jordan Turner." The interviewer then went on some spiel presumably about Mr. Turner. Troy ignored him. He became lost in thought.
Sure he hadn't heard about Turner, but Vince wouldn't make this match easy, that much was obvious. So Jordan Turner would clearly be a challenge. But Troy was too determined. He won't, couldn't, can't lose tonight.
Troy came out of his reverie, and still the interviewer was talking. Jesus. Troy resisted the urge to slam him, before interrupting.
"Jordan Turner," Troy began, facing the camera. "I know you'll be a challenge, Vince wouldn't make this easy on me. But I want you to listen, listen verrryyy carefully. You are now a rung on the ladder. And I'm beginning my climb up this ladder, and you are the next rung a have to step on so I can boost myself up. So, I would highly suggest you step down, you forfeit now, because I'm gonna use you to prove that I am dominant, that I am the best in this company. It'll be violent. Hell, it might even be bloody. Just cling to hope, Jordan, that security stops me before I kill you."
And that's it. Troy walks away, not another word. He lets the threat hang.
And now as he thinks about it, he realizes that he wasn't following a real person. A figment of his imagination, but it was a person whom he hated so much, a person who he knew had so much to do with his capture. A person who Troy needed to get vengeance on.
Beno.
