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Holding Out
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Topic Started: Aug 10 2013, 08:33 PM (72 Views)
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TGD
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Aug 10 2013, 08:33 PM
Post #1
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- Posts:
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- May 6, 2011
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-tap!-tap!-tap!- The Manhattan streets are filled with constant motion. Feet shuffling, faces blurring, lights flashing... life in the city. It's a river, always flowing. The water never recedes. Here, however, we focus on one drop of life in particular. Adam Jones, sitting street-side at a coffee shop on the corner of 96th and Columbus, waits as his company runs late. Impatient, he sips on his latte and taps his feet against the concrete.
-tap!-tap!-tap!-
"Jesus. You look like shit. How is it you have a girlfriend, again?" Enter: The man named Mark Jones. He was the smug, cool, and confident type. The guy with the fifty-dollar suit, working it like it had cost him a small fortune. Short, wavy blonde hair with a thinly framed bodytype that refused to put on any fat whatsoever. He was the poster child of the rich, white, and successful California kid. Much like Adam was, but Mark wore it on his sleeve as a badge of honor. He was all smiles, looks, and charisma -without the care or concern for any of it. He casually struts along, his eyes surveying the scene and lingering on the backsides of any females in the immediate vicinity, before finally taking a seat across from his brother.
"I still can't believe that we're related. If anyone asks... I was adopted." Years had passed since the last time Adam had seen Mark. That was before any of this. Before NEW, Supreme Wrestling, all of it. Adam had lead a different life back then. Even then, though, he and Mark hadn't been close. They never shared the same kind of bond that Adam held with his younger brother, Matt. Mark had never even bothered to show up during Matt's funeral. Adam hadn't been surprised. Adam scarcely expected to see Mark ever again.
Yet here he sat.
"You haven't changed in the slightest." Mark smiles a coy little grin at Adam's observation, replying with a shrug of the shoulders.
"Why tamper with perfection?" Irritation flashes through Adam's mind for the briefest moment. Silently, he wonders how he'd ever forgotten how cocky Mark could be. Clenching his jaw, he stows the sentiment, and keeps the conversation moving.
"Mark... it's been years. I just want to know... what is it you want?" He kept it simple. No need to complicate this. Adam had bigger things to worry about right now. He didn't want this getting under his skin, too. In response, Mark mulls over the inquiry for a moment. And then he shifts in his seat, unexpectedly straightening out and becoming more serious than Adam might have expected.
"This guy... the one that you've been fighting. He hurt our father. I can't abide that."
"Not everyone can be a hero." With NEW TV 68 only a short time away, now, the final curtain draws near. Dubbed 'The Throwback Show', expectations are high for this event to be one of NEW's biggest -all leading up to the biggest Pay Per View event of the year. For NEW's cast of talent, this means the pressure to perform couldn't be higher. It's time to lay all the cards on the table, so to speak. Prepared to do just that, Adam Jones stands once more in front of camera crews at the Hammerstein Ballroom.
"Lately, the term 'Hero' has become a popular label in NEW Era. A label which has been tossed around left and right to anyone that maintain a certain standard in abiding the supposed rules of wrestling. The good guys, with their smiles... their charisma, and their constant pandering. There was a time that I might have called myself a hero in the ring. Holding my character in contention against the likes of RAW or James Stall. Yet, nobody present today would hold me in the same regard as NEW's roster of Heroes.
And I don't mind." Our scene: The ring. In less than a day, the surrounding area will become packed. Crew members struggling to get things together and make everything run smoothly. Fans on their feet, clamoring as the NEW athletes put on their show. So much spectacle, and it seems to last forever. But the moment doesn't last. This is only the calm before the storm. Today, TGD sits out in the middle of the ring. Spotlight shining down, cameras pointed on him. A lone chair pulled out, where he sits and takes the center stage. Today, the ring is his.
"I wanted to be a Hero, once. But that was before. Call me seasoned, now, perhaps. Call me just a little jaded. But being a hero just isn't important to me, like it seemed just a short time ago. When I came to NEW, returning to the ring from a two-year hiatus after Supreme Wrestling's closure, I kept a band of integrity wrapped firmly around my arm. It was more important to me than anything else that people knew where I stood. It was important to me that I be seen as someone different. Someone who was committed. Someone who wasn't afraid to uphold the values of this sport.
But time has passed.
Some people have come and gone, others have changed. This almost feels like a different place, now, and I feel like a different person. You see, with everything I've been through here at NEW... I no longer give a damn. I see NEW's Heroes, and I think to myself... that's great. They believe in something. They're the new icons to this sport. They're the athletes that children can grow up, holding in esteem. But for me it's different. I... don't want to smile. I don't want to to be viewed as some sort of role model. This business is not so black and white to me. It's not that simple.
A man, a grown adult -went to my home, and put my father into the hospital.
My father still hasn't woken up. In response, this company did nothing. There was only one person here who even showed care or concern, and that woman is a saint. Meanwhile the man who signs the paycheck not only sat on his responsibilities, he damn near encouraged the act. He couldn't be happier that my father, formerly my manager, was now in the hospital. To him that was a gold mine in ratings, and he wanted more. But what can I do, he does sign the paychecks. At the end of the day, no matter what, I've still got to play the game. I have to go out into the ring, I have to fight, and I have to make sure that nothing holds me back. There just... doesn't seem to be a whole lot of room to try and be a hero in the mix of all that. Not for me." In his hands, a single bottle of water. Adam unscrews the cap, pausing for a moment to refresh himself. He takes a breath, reflecting on the moment. Even a slight pause like this can feel like an eternity in the ring. The show goes on forever, and yet it's over before you can stop to think about it. He welcomes the reprieve, this short chance to think it all out.
"For me, this has turned into something else. I still hold to my values, yeah. Integrity and all that. I haven't abandoned anything I ever stood for. But right now it's about going out there, fighting hard, and getting the job done. That other stuff, that hero business, that comes secondary. I can't make anyone think anything they don't want of me, and I don't to start trying. I tried before, and in the process became a joke. That's not what this is all about to me. That's drama. That's something I want no part of.
And I saying this because... RAW, he said he respected me. I say this because I hear the talk. I see the way that Romeo Stylez is revered as Champion. I see the way fans react to any athlete who dares tell Mac that he's an asshole. I say this because there was a time, not even a year ago, where I would have told RAW... I would have told Gavin... I would have told every Johnny Do-Good or Self-Righteous Marky Mark that I respected what they brought to the ring regardless of who they were outside of it. But right now, it ain't about that. That image, that reputation, that morality doesn't factor it. This isn't a sport where I want to mince words and be the nice guy. This is a sport where I want to take the hits, and have the strength and fortitude to hit back harder." Another drink. The bottle empties. Adam cradles it a moment, then casually lets the bottle drop. It's time for closure.
"RAW respects me. I'm not going to sit here and say, gee RAW... I respect you, too. You're a fantastic athlete, in spite of the fact that you're a general prick. Hey fans, cheer for me because I'm such a good guy! I'm a hero! No, I'm not going to say that. He respects me? I say that's nice. Take your respect and shove it up your ass, along with my foot that I'll be planting there when it comes time to have our little reunion. Leave that respect business at the door. I'm not so idealistic anymore. I've taken my hits, suffered for it, and now have seen those closest to me suffer as well. But I'll keep playing the game. If only for the chance to stand tall at the end, and say that I've won. Pandering isn't going to get me anywhere. Being the nice guy isn't going to score me retribution against Nightmare. Holding out, holding firm... biding my time. That will put me in the ring with Nightmare. That will secure my victory.
I'm sorry if that's not what you expect, or want to hear. But that's how it is. The last time I fought against RAW, I wanted to be the good guy. I wanted to be shown that I was different from him, and that difference was my strength. Right now, I don't care. I'm not a Hero. I'm not a Rainbow Warrior. I'm the guy who endures. I'm the guy who takes it all, and is standing at the end of the night to give it all back. The people that I care about get hurt and in response my boss tells me it will bring in the ratings. My opponents strike at my integrity, and tell me to prove them wrong. Well, ode to Heisenberg: I am the one who brings it. I will bring wrath, I will bring integrity, I will bring it all. I am the one who lays down everything. I am the one who wins.
Respect that, or go home." A moment, trapped in forever, and then it's over. Adam stands, walking toward the cameras. And then he's gone.
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