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Post by Finn Whelan on Jun 14, 2017 0:11:37 GMT
IT AIN'T ENOUGH
For a year, I’ve listened to the drivel that comes out of opponents’ mouths. For a year, I’ve heard the same fucking thing over and over again. ‘You look like an anorexia patient’, ‘How the fuck do you exist, emo kid?’, and my favorite, ‘The fuck are you doing thinking you’re going to be a professional wrestler’? Every goddamn place I step in, it’s the same shit over and over again. It doesn’t matter what I do, how I do it, or how things take place, the first thing zeroed in on is how I look, act, and appear instead of looking at the statistics or even better yet, my record.
Phoenix is no goddamn different.
It’s clear to me that I was signed under the pretense of being built up as a legitimate threat for the entertainment of the fans. But the hidden goal was only to become cannon fodder for people like Anastasia Starling, Mason Daniels, and hell, even Faith. I was signed under the pretense that I had the same opportunities as every person on that roster, that Slaine Rodrick saw something in me beyond the insults and epithets that most employers I’ve ever had used.
I was wrong.
I believed in something that might benefit me. I came to Phoenix to boost my resume, to push myself further and further, and to make sure my skills are seen by the world. I’m not a green rookie anymore, smiling up at the faces of fans who are only there to hope you kick someone into the ground, or even better, your face to the curb. To sit there and think that you’re going to work yourself up, that you could be as good as the people sitting in the higher echelons, is a fallacy only the most naive believe.
The only thing I’ll ever be considered as -- no matter how much work I put in, no matter what I do in that ring -- is a lesser peon in the scheme of things. I understand that there are always people that are going to be better than you, and that’s fine. That’s the way of life. But by no means should I be sitting in a match against a thug from fuckin’ NYC who sounds worse than Rocco from The Boondock Saints. Looks aren’t everything, and looking like Nick Carter circa two-thousand isn’t much better than your friendly neighborhood Emo Kid.
Experience or no experience, it doesn’t matter. I’ve fought against this shit for twelve years, what’s another five to ten years? I didn’t come to Phoenix to be stepped on, but I also didn’t come to be faced off against greener candidates of the wrestling scene. Starlight’s one of those people. But I also know that there’s no way you can go any lower -- which is why, despite my belief that I deserve more, and have fought for more, I’m going to treat this match as any other I’ve ever had.
An injury inflicted by a disgrace such as Mason Daniels isn’t going to keep me from fighting for my chance to be what I know what I will be. And if I have start against and take down Frankie Starlight to get there, you better bet your ass I’ll be there to give the best match possible.
All for the Rising Phoenix Championship. All for redemption.
All for glory. Because it ain’t enough.
⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤
The flight to San Diego from New York City always lasted longer than he expected, but Finn wasn’t particularly in the mood to be hold up thirty-thousand-feet in the air right now. Tuesday Night Asylum at his other venture -- a ultraviolent concept in a no-holds barred type match-up -- was looming over the horizon, and he and Elena DeDraca would be competing tag team style. Monday was always the calm before the storm, but he couldn't be calm. Sitting next to him was Elena herself, her eyes focused on her computer, using the on-flight wifi and checking out personnel files of their opponents.
“It’s nice to have someone who can obtain these without incident,” she commented, perusing through a list of maneuvers.
“If you don’t call a 'threat' an 'incident'.” Finn snorted.
“Well, I mean,” she looked over at him, her voice low, “that doesn’t seem to be out of the norm for Kei anyway.”
His mentor. He’d not had as much contact with the Japanese former wrestler in the past couple of weeks, if not even a month. While Kei was probably the only other person who actually had Finn’s back, and would do whatever he could to ensure victory for his mentee, he had been strikingly absent. For this, Finn was grateful.
Above their heads sat Phoenix’s Rising Phoenix Championship, awarded to Elena the prior Redemption show. To say he was irritated that Elena had lasted longer than he had against the ever-versatile Anastasia Starling was a little of an understatement, but he’d masked it pretty well. She, after all, had more experience than he did, but it would only be a matter of time until he challenged for it again. If it was still Elena’s, then he would have to forget their camaraderie for the time being and see her as he saw everyone else: someone to be eliminated.
But there had been conversation, too, behind closed doors that Finn hadn’t been privy to. The news report released after Redemption 108 had affected her more than he could have guessed. Even he thought it: Phoenix Wrestling and fans were stunned that Starling had lost her precious championship, and it hadn’t been received very well. It’d been further affirmed when she had an immediate rematch -- of course, that was to happen for any former championship holder, but everyone knew that Ana was just going to come back harder.
“I’ve been thinking . . .” she murmured. “I have to make a decision here.”
“About?”
“Phoenix.”
Finn lifted an eyebrow. “What decision?”
She was quiet for a moment, but it wasn’t hard to read her. It’d never been hard. She sighed, but still didn’t look at him. “They don’t want us there, Finn.” She said finally. “Isn’t it obvious? Not one of those fans want us there, not one of our co-workers want us there. I know you’re gung-ho about the company--”
“‘Gung-ho’ wouldn’t be what I would describe it as.”
“Shut up, Fuckduck.” She chided. “I know you want to be at Phoenix, but I talked to Morrison a couple of days ago. He thinks that I have other opportunities to focus on, and maybe . . . just maybe, it’s time for me to step out.”
“You just won the championship, though.”
“I know that,” she sighed, “but I don’t think it’s the best fit for me. I’m not fully sure yet, and I don’t know that I’ll be. But if I lose it, the fans will as see it going back to its supposed-rightful owner, and then I’ll go back to being a mid-carder with no further aspirations. You and I both know that.”
Finn pondered it for a moment. Whatever Elena did was, of course, her decision, but the repercussions for him would be astronomical. Their intent was always to win the Duos titles. Their intent had been to stick together through thick and thin, fighting off the best of the best and wanting more. If she left, it would be like leaving a lamb to the slaughter of wolves. But, he also knew that once she was done, she was done. There would be no going back.
He believed that he still had a shot. He wanted to prove it to anyone and everyone who believed him to be worthless -- and clearly, that was a lot of people.
“Whatever you do, you know I’ll support it.” He shrugged, playing indifferent. “But I'd hope that you'd support my decision.”
“Oh?” That sly smirk appeared on her face.
“Phoenix isn’t through with me, yet.”
⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤
Frankie Starlight, aren’t you been a sight for sore eyes, ya ol’ crooner? You’re someone who doesn’t take no for answer. How have those “no”s you’ve been clearly dealt with feel, though? You’re the type of guy that thinks he’s been given a winning hand, but then gets stomped into the ground by those who are just . . . better. Look at you, dealing with ‘real shit’ -- a real grown up now, aren’t you? I suppose you could have me checked for drugs before we have this match, make sure I ain’t tweakin’, but you’d be wasting your time. Only drug I have in my system right now is naproxen, due to having to listen to you rant and rave.
Look, I could come at you with insult after insult, like you did. I could come at you, saying that you’re going to have your cronies come down and beat the shit out of me instead of you. I could come at you with the fact that you’re a real fucking idiot that doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. I could also come at you with a fact that defines who you are: you’re inexperienced, and not worth my time on a regular basis.
But I’m not.
Let's get it straight, Frankie. You’re not the first person to come at me with bravado and confidence, and you won’t be the last. You’re also not the first person who’s come at me only to be struck down time and time again for taking me as anything less than a threat. I’m not in Phoenix to be shit on by a person who lacks decorum and looks like a fuckin’ F. Scott Fitzgerald character in order to appear like a decent citizen. I’m here to prove a point: I’m. A. Good. Fuckin’. Wrestler.
I’m a paragon of holding respect for most people. I believe it’s the central ideal to being a decent person. But believe me when I say this: I don’t respect you. I don’t like you, and I certainly don’t enjoy the big band era of the Rat Pack in which you fit in so well. And when I don’t respect you, then I certainly do not give a rat’s ass what happens to you in that ring. I’m not feeling too positive about my current standing in Phoenix, and you know what, I’m going to fix that by putting you down the same way I’ve put down everyone since I lost my opportunity to Starling. Six feet under. No regrets.
 You may be chuckling, but here’s the thing, Frankie. I’ve realized that the person I’ve been putting forth for the last few months -- trying to keep a low profile, trying to make sure I don’t say shit before I’m certain of the result -- is my failure. I’ll go out there, I’ll be the person that people cheer for, but I will not be the person in that ring that isn’t confident in my abilities and my successes. I will not be a person who allows people like you to walk on me to get ahead. It’s time for me to forget my technical skills, my honor, my traditions, and bury them just as I’m about to bury you.
I hope you’ve prepared for someone looking for a fight because if you believe what you’ve painted me as, then you’ve made a grave mistake. Oh. One more thing before I go.
Fuck you, and fuck your Collective too.
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