Post by Sora Weaver on May 31, 2021 17:55:20 GMT -5
"This will hurt."
It wasn't how Sora expected to start his wrestling training. A few weeks past his high school graduation Sora was in a warehouse in the industrial section of Newark. While plenty of his peers were packing for college orientation, he was standing in a beaten down ring surrounded by about fifteen other trainees in the school.
Well, standing is a misnomer actually. At this point he was on his hands and knees without a shirt on.
Sora arrived at the school about a half hour ago. Through various social media channels, he found out most of the local wrestlers he watched at indy shows went through this school. It wasn't far from his house, they accepted(preferred) cash, and he had enough from his hourly job to afford it. It wasn't the ideal situation to say the least.
Not like anything Sora did ended up ideal, so not like it mattered.
This though? Not ranking highly on the list of current adventures.
Baron Bruno had been around the tristate indy scene for decades. A few times he got called to the big times, but it was never to be. Bruno had a ceiling, but never could crack it. The result was a decent living in union halls and smaller arenas, but never what he truly wanted. He resented that every day, carried it around deep in his soul.
Only to show it at inconvenient times for others.
A few years ago Bruno got a strange phone call from a man. He didn't really understand the specifics, but the intent was clear: hang up your boots, open a wrestling school, and a mysterious benefactor would send him a big bucket of cash to get going. The person was keen to start schools all over the country, just not under their own name. Bruno, being well known in his area, was an ideal teacher. He had experience, a name, and a brand. People would flock to him.
People like Sora.
An envelope of cash from the 18 year old's hands to the slightly bent knuckles of the veteran, and Sora was in. The warehouse was once new, but time and disrepair had taken over. Now the posters, mainly detailing Bruno's previous main events, were yellowed and dog eared.
Looking satisfied, Bruno carried his torture implement out of the ring with him. The murmur of the students asking Sora questions provided the soundtrack of his walk. That is, until...
"More."
The word was barely audible, but more than loud enough for Bruno to hear. The students looked panicked. "Stay down" "You've done enough" "Don't encourage him" among the comments Sora's protectors made. Despite their protestations, Sora slowly eased his way back up his feet and hands shaking like leaves in a hurricane. With great effort, he got his way back into the position.
Bruno, livid at this point, sprinted back to the ring. Leaping onto the apron and back through the ropes like an angry stallion.
"GET THE FUCK OUT THE WAY!"
This isn't about Aph, or any of the other people you've beaten though. This is about me and you, one time with that title on the line. One night for me to take that which you hold most dear, so much that you'll align with a group of jackals in order to keep it. You'll do anything to make sure that you stay on top.
I'll do anything to knock you off.
I'm a wounded animal Chelsea. You and I both know I'm not at 100 percent with my shoulder, but that doesn't matter. You and I both know that I'm coming into this match not in the best mental shape, because I never am. There's a million reasons you should win this match, and a million reasons you might.
The reason you won't though is because I won't give up.
If you want to keep that title here's the best advice I can give you: buy a gun and shoot me.
Because that's what it will take. I've experienced more pain than you can fathom since my first day in a ring, more disappointment in high school than you could ever feel in your lifetime, and every single bit of it has trained me for this moment. This opportunity isn't lost on me because I might not get it again, so I have to treat it as such.
Just because you haven't been beaten doesn't mean you're unbeatable. Just because you've been champion doesn't mean you will continue to be. You're on borrowed time, because you don't have the answer you need. You may have that championship.
I have the heart to take it from you.
You may have a beautiful record.
I don't have the fear of losing to hold me back.
You may have an army of thugs at your back who want to end me.
I have the energy to waste every single one of them if they take the chance.
This is your endgame Chelsea. This is the moment that your reign ends. It's not going to be graceful, it's not going to be pretty, and it's not going to be what you want. But take it from me: nobody always gets what they want.
For one night only though, I will.
I'll get a world championship when I beat you. I'll get a leg up in a war I'm losing right now. I'll get all the spotlight that I need to bring this show, this company into a better place. I'll get everything I need in three seconds while you lose everything.
You can't stop it.
Because you can't stop me.
It wasn't how Sora expected to start his wrestling training. A few weeks past his high school graduation Sora was in a warehouse in the industrial section of Newark. While plenty of his peers were packing for college orientation, he was standing in a beaten down ring surrounded by about fifteen other trainees in the school.
Well, standing is a misnomer actually. At this point he was on his hands and knees without a shirt on.
Sora arrived at the school about a half hour ago. Through various social media channels, he found out most of the local wrestlers he watched at indy shows went through this school. It wasn't far from his house, they accepted(preferred) cash, and he had enough from his hourly job to afford it. It wasn't the ideal situation to say the least.
Not like anything Sora did ended up ideal, so not like it mattered.
This though? Not ranking highly on the list of current adventures.
Baron Bruno had been around the tristate indy scene for decades. A few times he got called to the big times, but it was never to be. Bruno had a ceiling, but never could crack it. The result was a decent living in union halls and smaller arenas, but never what he truly wanted. He resented that every day, carried it around deep in his soul.
Only to show it at inconvenient times for others.
A few years ago Bruno got a strange phone call from a man. He didn't really understand the specifics, but the intent was clear: hang up your boots, open a wrestling school, and a mysterious benefactor would send him a big bucket of cash to get going. The person was keen to start schools all over the country, just not under their own name. Bruno, being well known in his area, was an ideal teacher. He had experience, a name, and a brand. People would flock to him.
People like Sora.
An envelope of cash from the 18 year old's hands to the slightly bent knuckles of the veteran, and Sora was in. The warehouse was once new, but time and disrepair had taken over. Now the posters, mainly detailing Bruno's previous main events, were yellowed and dog eared.
BRUNO'S WRESTLING ACADEMY, EST 2009
Graced the wall Sora saw despite being on all fours. Right below it was extremely faded text. Sora couldn't make it out, save for one letter. A capital C...
"Hey boy, pay attention!" Bruno barked at him.
A head shake from Sora, before remembering where he was.
"Now here at my academy we do things my way," Bruno said. "You gotta be tough to train with me, because this business is tough. Nobody gonna give a fuck about you cept you, so you have to be hardened. I don't accept weakness, I don't accept unserious jackoffs who saw this on TV and thought it'd be fun. This here is serious shit, and if you're not serious you won't be shit. I'll personally see to that."
Sweat beads started to leak off Sora's forehead. One of the students walked to Bruno's side of the ring, handing him a kendo stick. Swinging his neck around a couple times, a loud crack came from the damaged neck of Bruno. He needed some surgery, but he didn't take bumps anymore he thought. Worry about it later. Bruno grasped the stick with both hands, like some Northeastern samurai.
"What's gonna happen kid is I'm gonna beat the shit out of you with this stick," Bruno said matter of factly. "I'm gonna do it until you stop getting up. If that's not for long enough as I deem it, you get your money back and you'll never step foot in a ring again. If you can survive as I see fit, you can stay and train. By the way, if ya need some motivation. The record for how many whacks taken is 22. My prized student. A shame he couldn't stay off the smack. A tough bastard."
Sora's face remained blank, but inside his heart was racing. Nobody ever said anything about this. Nobody ever warned him.
He was stuck. All alone.
Helpless.
Every successive strike echoed throughout the harsh concrete walls, coming like machine gun fire. There was an aggression behind every swing, like a farmer hacking off a snake's head with his shovel. The furious barrage finally ended at ten, at which point it was too much for Sora. All four limbs went out from under him, falling flat on his chest in the ring. Before Bruno could say anything, several trainees got in the ring. One stood, covering Sora's body while the rest checked on him. "Hey boy, pay attention!" Bruno barked at him.
A head shake from Sora, before remembering where he was.
"Now here at my academy we do things my way," Bruno said. "You gotta be tough to train with me, because this business is tough. Nobody gonna give a fuck about you cept you, so you have to be hardened. I don't accept weakness, I don't accept unserious jackoffs who saw this on TV and thought it'd be fun. This here is serious shit, and if you're not serious you won't be shit. I'll personally see to that."
Sweat beads started to leak off Sora's forehead. One of the students walked to Bruno's side of the ring, handing him a kendo stick. Swinging his neck around a couple times, a loud crack came from the damaged neck of Bruno. He needed some surgery, but he didn't take bumps anymore he thought. Worry about it later. Bruno grasped the stick with both hands, like some Northeastern samurai.
"What's gonna happen kid is I'm gonna beat the shit out of you with this stick," Bruno said matter of factly. "I'm gonna do it until you stop getting up. If that's not for long enough as I deem it, you get your money back and you'll never step foot in a ring again. If you can survive as I see fit, you can stay and train. By the way, if ya need some motivation. The record for how many whacks taken is 22. My prized student. A shame he couldn't stay off the smack. A tough bastard."
Sora's face remained blank, but inside his heart was racing. Nobody ever said anything about this. Nobody ever warned him.
He was stuck. All alone.
Helpless.
THWACK!
Without warning the first shot from the cane cracked across his back, sounding like a cannon. Sora's hands go out, leaving him just with his knees still in position. He sees the faces of the trainees around the ring; they look uncomfortable. Some of them are looking away, not wanting to make eye contact. The abandonment felt real.
Sora was on his own.
Sora was on his own.
THWACK!
Again the cane struck him, harder this time. Sora could feel the skin swelling, the sting galloping through all the nerves in his body. He pushes himself up on his hands again, returning to his original position. A grimace occupies Sora's face, unable to hide it any longer.
"That's only two shots kid and you're starting to crumble," Bruno said with the hint of a smile. "This ain't a good sign, I gotta tell ya."
Sora remained quiet. Bruno took his silence as consent.
"That's only two shots kid and you're starting to crumble," Bruno said with the hint of a smile. "This ain't a good sign, I gotta tell ya."
Sora remained quiet. Bruno took his silence as consent.
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
All three landed hard, the wood crashing into Sora's spine. His eyes squinted shut, hoping that would somehow mask the pain. It only served to turned the next strikes into a surprise.
THWACK!
THWACK!
All three landed hard, the wood crashing into Sora's spine. His eyes squinted shut, hoping that would somehow mask the pain. It only served to turned the next strikes into a surprise.
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
The tenth shot drew audible groans from the ringside area. Those forced to watch this wicked initiation were unable to look away, instead now looking at Sora. Wondering how he was holding up, and how much longer he'd endure the torture. Most of the current students didn't make it past ten. Sora's arms and legs were quivering, but he stayed resolute.
He hadn't fallen.
"Not bad kid, more than I expected from a scrawny looking emo fuck," Bruno said.
Before Sora could process the compliment...
He hadn't fallen.
"Not bad kid, more than I expected from a scrawny looking emo fuck," Bruno said.
Before Sora could process the compliment...
THWACK!
Number 11 missed his back, catching Sora directly on the neck. This one dropped him to the mat by sheer shock. From the top of his head to his shoulders was an inferno of agony, flames of pain dancing all along the muscles.
Bruno had seen enough.
"Alright kid you've shown me enough," Bruno said. "Oy, you lot!"
Bruno motions to the stick to a trio of trainees closes to Sora.
"Help him up and get him some..."
Bruno's words ceased as Sora somehow pushed himself up back into the position. The students looked shocked. Sora turned his head to Bruno, masking the misery he was experiencing.
"More."
Bruno had seen enough.
"Alright kid you've shown me enough," Bruno said. "Oy, you lot!"
Bruno motions to the stick to a trio of trainees closes to Sora.
"Help him up and get him some..."
Bruno's words ceased as Sora somehow pushed himself up back into the position. The students looked shocked. Sora turned his head to Bruno, masking the misery he was experiencing.
"More."
Bruno was angry now. He had extended this urchin mercy, he thought, and he didn't take it. His charity had been thrown in the garbage by some punk who can barely vote.
I'll show him, Bruno thought.
THWACK!
I'll show him, Bruno thought.
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
Looking satisfied, Bruno carried his torture implement out of the ring with him. The murmur of the students asking Sora questions provided the soundtrack of his walk. That is, until...
"More."
The word was barely audible, but more than loud enough for Bruno to hear. The students looked panicked. "Stay down" "You've done enough" "Don't encourage him" among the comments Sora's protectors made. Despite their protestations, Sora slowly eased his way back up his feet and hands shaking like leaves in a hurricane. With great effort, he got his way back into the position.
Bruno, livid at this point, sprinted back to the ring. Leaping onto the apron and back through the ropes like an angry stallion.
"GET THE FUCK OUT THE WAY!"
THWACK!
With a running start, Bruno brought the stick down across the back of Sora's skull. The force rippled the skin across his back, sending him down to the mat for good. The students were now actively yelling at Bruno, admonishing him like they never had before.
"He asked for it, you heard him!" Bruno yelled. "That little bastard wanted it. Not my god damn fault he doesn't what's good for him."
Leaving the ring for good now, Bruno left the group on his way back to his office. About halfway there, he cracks the now deformed stick over his knee tossing it into a corner. Slamming the rickety door to his office, Bruno plopped down in a worn office chair that sat in front of a flea market desk with papers scattered across it. He sat there for a moment, stewing.
Then Bruno spun around, revealing a worn piece of office paper taped to the wall. Listed were names and numbers written left to right across the page. Grabbing a pen in his grubby hand, Bruno made several brutish pen strokes to the bottom of the page. After a few seconds, the bottom of the paper looked like:
Newkirk 16
Dorsey 18
Liska 22
Weaver 23
In the ring, Sora finally regained movement to the point where he was able to sit in the corner of the ring. The turnbuckle pressed directly against one of the bigger welts he had, but standing wasn't an option at the moment. Pain was everywhere, flooding him. Nothing was untouched from the assault he just suffered.
Yet in his mind, he was happy.
All the physical pain he was in didn't dull it.
He beat the record.
He survived.
Nobody could take that from him.
========
Do you know the thing people hate about me the most?
I don't stop.
See most normal people, they know when a fight ends. They know when the race has been run, and it's time to give up. Not that there's any shame in it either. Everything comes to an end, and recognizing that is admirable. It's social protocol after all. If someone asks you for something and they say no, you shouldn't pursue it any further because you've gotten the answer. It's bad form, unpolite, and just usually ends in the same result anyway. Why put in more effort if the outcome won't change?
Then there's me.
See when I latch onto something that I thing is right, I don't give up on that thing. When I see something wrong, I don't just give up on it when I reach the first wall of adversity. And do you know why?
Because I've spent my life being given up on.
Teachers seeing that I wasn't the smartest, so instead of helping me they allowed to me drown because the other kids boosted their test scores and their yearly bonuses. Coaches who instead of showing me how to be a better athlete decided to focus on the quarterback who already knew everything because it was easier. People who tried to be my friend, but because they didn't instantly click with me called me "strange" and abandoned me after a single conversation. All my life has been full of people giving up.
So I charge on no matter what the odds, what the circumstance, no matter the failure. I can't expect things to change unless I am the one leading that charge. I will not let the darkness consume me, instead it will fuel me. Those failure will not be my escape rope, they will be the things that keep me moving forward until there is no more failure.
The only way out is through.
I didn't win the Glory tournament, and to make it that much worse I watched Jin do it. If it wasn't me I'm glad it was him, but do you know what it's like to know how close you were? That someone you KNOW you're as good as did what you couldn't? That eats as you because all you can do is think the same thing over and over again.
That could have been me.
That could have been me.
THAT COULD HAVE BEEN ME.
It wasn't though.
I have to accept that the actions of a coward and an opportunist cost me that moment. That I wasn't good enough to overcome in that moment, that what I said I was going to do I didn't. All of that I have to live with, I have to use to keep pushing so it doesn't happen again. So I can avoid that feeling.
The road doesn't get easier.
Hello Chelsea LeClair.
You probably don't know much about me, but allow me to help explain. See a few weeks ago when the Left Hand turned my friends and I into punching bags, all you did was watch. Not only did you watch, they all looked up at you after and SALUTED you. Did you turn that away?
You didn't.
Did you think to help the people who were getting maimed below you?
You didn't?
No instead you let the evil run rampant while you stood by and did NOTHING. You had the power to do the right thing, but instead you sided with a group of terrorists. A group that I've set out to destroy for the crimes they've committed, and the ones they can't wait to.
You are my enemy Chelsea, because you made a choice.
Now I have the chance to return the favor.
And you've already seen what I'm like in this moment. Ask Anya Coyle, because she'll tell you that you better keep both eyes on me. She didn't, and she lost. If that had been a title match, she's a commoner and I'm the champion. I made sure that I left everything in that ring that night, because if I didn't I wouldn't win. The only thing that mattered was getting her shoulders to the mat for three seconds.
I did that.
Now we come to you, who has been bulletproof since March. You even beat one of my stablemates...sorta. You needed an explosion and a stooge to keep Aph from taking your title that night. You didn't really beat her, you just ended up as the winner. There's a difference, and anyone paying attention sees it.
"He asked for it, you heard him!" Bruno yelled. "That little bastard wanted it. Not my god damn fault he doesn't what's good for him."
Leaving the ring for good now, Bruno left the group on his way back to his office. About halfway there, he cracks the now deformed stick over his knee tossing it into a corner. Slamming the rickety door to his office, Bruno plopped down in a worn office chair that sat in front of a flea market desk with papers scattered across it. He sat there for a moment, stewing.
Then Bruno spun around, revealing a worn piece of office paper taped to the wall. Listed were names and numbers written left to right across the page. Grabbing a pen in his grubby hand, Bruno made several brutish pen strokes to the bottom of the page. After a few seconds, the bottom of the paper looked like:
Weaver 23
In the ring, Sora finally regained movement to the point where he was able to sit in the corner of the ring. The turnbuckle pressed directly against one of the bigger welts he had, but standing wasn't an option at the moment. Pain was everywhere, flooding him. Nothing was untouched from the assault he just suffered.
Yet in his mind, he was happy.
All the physical pain he was in didn't dull it.
He beat the record.
He survived.
Nobody could take that from him.
========
Do you know the thing people hate about me the most?
I don't stop.
See most normal people, they know when a fight ends. They know when the race has been run, and it's time to give up. Not that there's any shame in it either. Everything comes to an end, and recognizing that is admirable. It's social protocol after all. If someone asks you for something and they say no, you shouldn't pursue it any further because you've gotten the answer. It's bad form, unpolite, and just usually ends in the same result anyway. Why put in more effort if the outcome won't change?
Then there's me.
See when I latch onto something that I thing is right, I don't give up on that thing. When I see something wrong, I don't just give up on it when I reach the first wall of adversity. And do you know why?
Because I've spent my life being given up on.
Teachers seeing that I wasn't the smartest, so instead of helping me they allowed to me drown because the other kids boosted their test scores and their yearly bonuses. Coaches who instead of showing me how to be a better athlete decided to focus on the quarterback who already knew everything because it was easier. People who tried to be my friend, but because they didn't instantly click with me called me "strange" and abandoned me after a single conversation. All my life has been full of people giving up.
So I charge on no matter what the odds, what the circumstance, no matter the failure. I can't expect things to change unless I am the one leading that charge. I will not let the darkness consume me, instead it will fuel me. Those failure will not be my escape rope, they will be the things that keep me moving forward until there is no more failure.
The only way out is through.
I didn't win the Glory tournament, and to make it that much worse I watched Jin do it. If it wasn't me I'm glad it was him, but do you know what it's like to know how close you were? That someone you KNOW you're as good as did what you couldn't? That eats as you because all you can do is think the same thing over and over again.
That could have been me.
That could have been me.
THAT COULD HAVE BEEN ME.
It wasn't though.
I have to accept that the actions of a coward and an opportunist cost me that moment. That I wasn't good enough to overcome in that moment, that what I said I was going to do I didn't. All of that I have to live with, I have to use to keep pushing so it doesn't happen again. So I can avoid that feeling.
The road doesn't get easier.
Hello Chelsea LeClair.
You probably don't know much about me, but allow me to help explain. See a few weeks ago when the Left Hand turned my friends and I into punching bags, all you did was watch. Not only did you watch, they all looked up at you after and SALUTED you. Did you turn that away?
You didn't.
Did you think to help the people who were getting maimed below you?
You didn't?
No instead you let the evil run rampant while you stood by and did NOTHING. You had the power to do the right thing, but instead you sided with a group of terrorists. A group that I've set out to destroy for the crimes they've committed, and the ones they can't wait to.
You are my enemy Chelsea, because you made a choice.
Now I have the chance to return the favor.
And you've already seen what I'm like in this moment. Ask Anya Coyle, because she'll tell you that you better keep both eyes on me. She didn't, and she lost. If that had been a title match, she's a commoner and I'm the champion. I made sure that I left everything in that ring that night, because if I didn't I wouldn't win. The only thing that mattered was getting her shoulders to the mat for three seconds.
I did that.
Now we come to you, who has been bulletproof since March. You even beat one of my stablemates...sorta. You needed an explosion and a stooge to keep Aph from taking your title that night. You didn't really beat her, you just ended up as the winner. There's a difference, and anyone paying attention sees it.
I'll do anything to knock you off.
I'm a wounded animal Chelsea. You and I both know I'm not at 100 percent with my shoulder, but that doesn't matter. You and I both know that I'm coming into this match not in the best mental shape, because I never am. There's a million reasons you should win this match, and a million reasons you might.
The reason you won't though is because I won't give up.
If you want to keep that title here's the best advice I can give you: buy a gun and shoot me.
Because that's what it will take. I've experienced more pain than you can fathom since my first day in a ring, more disappointment in high school than you could ever feel in your lifetime, and every single bit of it has trained me for this moment. This opportunity isn't lost on me because I might not get it again, so I have to treat it as such.
Just because you haven't been beaten doesn't mean you're unbeatable. Just because you've been champion doesn't mean you will continue to be. You're on borrowed time, because you don't have the answer you need. You may have that championship.
I have the heart to take it from you.
You may have a beautiful record.
I don't have the fear of losing to hold me back.
You may have an army of thugs at your back who want to end me.
I have the energy to waste every single one of them if they take the chance.
This is your endgame Chelsea. This is the moment that your reign ends. It's not going to be graceful, it's not going to be pretty, and it's not going to be what you want. But take it from me: nobody always gets what they want.
For one night only though, I will.
I'll get a world championship when I beat you. I'll get a leg up in a war I'm losing right now. I'll get all the spotlight that I need to bring this show, this company into a better place. I'll get everything I need in three seconds while you lose everything.
You can't stop it.
Because you can't stop me.