MATCH PROMO Dirt King - Voltage 2

Jalyn Garcia

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I guess people could find contentment in the simple things.

W I L D H E A R T

In such a lowly place.

Chapter Three: Legend, Rise

Of no meaning. Of no significance.

Voltage, May 10th, 2020

Just a patch of dirt in a vast world.

...

...

...

History is always there.

Sitting quietly, an open source for anyone to dig into.

You can speak on the nuances, the minor details that I don’t hold but I’m not wrong for the most part, am I? Charlie Marr still left. Charlie Marr still achieved nothing before Marrkade. Charlie Marr was never really a noteworthy name in this company until that tag team run and subsequent co-National Elite Championship story. I don’t know everything, I don’t pretend to know everything, but I’m aware of enough to be accurate. I get it though. You don’t anticipate a fledgling to be aware of what transpired before them. You don’t expect them to be remotely knowledgeable in what happened before them, only able to pull bits and pieces from some website. Luxuries of being trained by another Elitist, rather than on my own. Hell, I’m pretty sure I know more about this company and the way it works than even you do. But like I said, I don’t know everything. I know when you started, but little in between. You can chirp about what you competed for, how relevant you believe you were, but what did you win? Nothing. You didn’t win a fuckin’ thing. Should I be impressed that you were seemingly elevated past the New Breed Championship at the time? I don’t know how impressed I can truly be if you couldn’t actually win a fuckin’ title until months later. Even your tag team was a flop until those titles fell into more...insignificant hands. There’s a reason why nothing quite stands out for you, Charlie and it’s the same reason nobody can recall a single thing Terry did until Pain For Pride this year: nothing happened. That’s why someone else “made” you. That’s why you were completely irrelevant until Darly came along. You weren’t seen as some up and coming star, you weren’t seen as the next big thing in this company, you were just...there. Just another Elitist with a name showing up week to week. Nothing special, nothing unique. Are you bitter, Charlie? Bitter that people didn’t prop you up as the future as they do others? As Malcolm Jones was when he first arrived? As I have been since coming back? Rewriting your narrative and trying to convince otherwise of it’s legitimacy isn’t the way to go; a lie told a thousand times does become truth, but it remains a lie if it never leaves the lips of the person you’re telling it to. Sure, you became the future, you lived up to your own expectations and standards, but that doesn’t change where you came from does it? It doesn’t change that you were a defeated contender at best, in a match nobody remembers, in the dying days of the worst era of Elite Answers Wrestling. My title? My title might be “lowly”, it might be “worthless”, yet it is far, far more than you achieved in all those months. Though regardless, there’s nothing I can do to win this point, can I? Of course the stain of the New Breed Championship breeds a perspective that it doesn’t belong near the “middle of the card’ Championships, more “prestigious” Championships as you put it. Hierarchy exists, a ladder exists to which we all climb; one title is above another, with another above it until you reach the pinnacle. But who did you compete against for it? That’s pretty important, this company has had some shoddy Champions across the board, even the National Elite Championship had its fair share of dodgy Champions. Not all Champions are equal; some are lucky, some are flukes, some a minor fling brought to success by someone in a suit. And Charlie Marr’s FIRST title opportunity was against the National Elite Champion, for a title above my “lowly” and “worthless” and whatever fuckin’ word you want to use. But let’s dive into that, actually; I should really be more informed about this, my bad buddy, my mistake, please forgive me for being so careless about the details! When was it? Reckless Wiring? No, no. Reasonable Doubt! That’s right, that’s right. Terrible show by the way, I mean, that shit was awful. Terrible Champions right across the roster. And the National Elite Champion…was…

...Nobi.







Nobi.





No…





...bi…







...Nobi...

...



...

NOBI?!?!?

YOU COULDN’T FUCKING BEAT NOBI FOR THE NATIONAL ELITE CHAMPIONSHIP?!?

:mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol:

This motherfucker wants to pop off about fighting for more prestigious titles, wants to jack himself off about being above the New Breed Championship BUT HE COULDN’T BEAT NOBI?!?! AND JACOB MOORE TOO?!?!? AKLJDASGHAKJGBA THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE NATIONAL ELITE CHAMPIONSHIP PAL BUT THAT ABSOLUTELY CONTESTED AT A NEW BREED STANDARD.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I CAN’T FUCKING EVEN!!!

:mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol::mjlol:

Oh man, I did call you a fraud, right? So I guess being a fraud extends all the way back to then. And I’m going to get a head of the curve here before you start giving me some kind of bland ass retort along the lines of “well you wouldn’t have done any better!!”, in that case, yeah nice hypothetical there but I’d prefer something a little more legitimate.

“BuT duH NeW bReeD!!”

Nah fuckin’ shut it. Couldn’t beat a New Breed masquerading around as a mid-card Champion and wants to walk around as if he was something special, as if he was something worth watching and looking out for. Was never even the full, standalone National Elite Champion, had to settle for being a ‘co’ Champion being overshadowed by his tag partner. At least I’ve got gold around my waist and I don’t have an asterisk next to my record.

God damn I fucking LOVE research.

Though running on from the defeats of the past to the defeats of the present: defeats are still defeats, Charlie. They stack up, they all read the same on paper. Tape is tape, people interested will watch it but others won’t, they’ll only ever read that you were defeated by The Visual Prophet, defeated by Andrea Valentine, and failed to win Grand Rampage. All those details mean nothing; being wrong, being screwed nobody fucking cares. Do you believe others will be sympathetic towards you when you request another opportunity? No, they won’t. They never are, that’s not how this goes. People get screwed for months on end and that tide never turns; the waves still crash on top of them mercilessly...only then it becomes a matter of their own inability, rather than someone else’s injection. How many times can you do it? Ready yourself for big match after big match - King of Elite, EAW Championship, Grand Rampage - only to be defeated and still have the desire to keep going? Noone’s will is infinite and everyone breaks eventually. Why will the tide turn for you when so many others have been consumed by it? Everyone chooses to believe that they’ll be the exception and I don’t blame them, nobody should be looked down upon for being optimistic that things will change for them, change for the better, but it all ends the same way; it’s quite tragic really. I would be lying however if I said I’m not looking forward to when we reach October and November and Charlie Marr is still recalling all the times he was screwed at the start of the year, having a whinge that he didn’t get a fair, deserving rematch. The shambles. When you’re no longer in a position of power, no longer at the peak of this business, your determination to return to the place you once clung to becomes desperation; an inevitable which creates a stench, one that turns away anyone who could otherwise lean down to help you, to raise you up and gift you the chance to obtain what you desire. But you should remain resolute. Plant your feet firmly into the soil and tell yourself, convince yourself, that there’s always tomorrow. Convince yourself, pretend that there is in fact a bright, glistening light of nirvana at the end of the pitch-black tunnel called 2020 that you’re stumbling through. Sure, you’ll turn things around, right? Sure, you’ll take back Voltage and become the World Champion again! Right? ...right? You won’t, really. Faith is a fickle thing after all. How many times does one have to fail before their faith is shaken? How many abject failures will there be before you start to ponder if what you believed in was perhaps wrong? How many times does Charlie Marr get kicked down into the dirt until the taste of it filling his mouth becomes more familiar than food itself? No. A day will arrive where you’re well and truly past your prime, with your hands shaking from the agony and regret of being so close to what you want more than anything else in this world and yet it will be as far away as it is today. When the day arrives that you and I face one on one - should it arrive rather - I’ll chew you up and spit you back out, leaving you beaten on the canvas with only your precious little ideals there to comfort you like a blanket on a cold, cold night.

Hundreds of others have thought like you, talked like you, walked like you. And hundreds of others have lost like you.

A dog chained up to his post, his ideals of being able to return to his former glory, being the present and the future, in being a star, in once again reigning above. I only have to dangle every miserable aspect of your career, every harsh reality that you want to ignore to only tilt you the mere...seemingly insignificant inches off balance it takes to bury beneath that thin skin. What’s to fear? Talk but do not walk. Talk but stumble and fall. You were a refreshing act, a breath of fresh air but that’s all and you know it. Deep down you know it. You’re not built to last, you’re not built to remain. You come and go with the wind, ever so brief and yet in contrast I am everything you cannot be. I don’t have grand delusions clouding my judgement, immediately treated as a prospect that they wish to protect and look out for. How long is it until your home affairs require your attention again in such a convenient manner? No, no there is not reason to fear you, no reason to feel threatened. The big bad man isn’t...isn’t so big at all. A dog whose bark is worse than its bite and how threatening can a dog chained to his ideals be? Not at all. How easy it is to bludgeon a hapless fighter. Perhaps it’s ideal that you’re tied up with Malcolm. He’s provided you with an escape, a justification, an excuse for defeat. I would take it, sure. Three on one? The numbers don’t lie and they spell disaster for you, even if you see such little in us. I could do it alone, but that’s not exactly how things will play out, will they? I know better than to believe that I’ll beat you alone in that ring. But I won’t have an issue reaffirming the belief that a seasonal fling can’t keep up with someone of my caliber any other week, if you’re keen that is. Regardless, whether it is this week or a hypothetical date down the line, why would I hesitate in pissing off anyone above me, especially one who seems so easily tilted the moment the worst parts of their career are brought back up to the surface? You can’t tear me down, Charlie. Go on, use the New Breed stereotype to illustrate how everything you’ve done trumps everything i am today, I’ll give you a free pass here to be a fucking dumb cunt without criticism. The way I see it? You’re not the top dog anymore. You had a great, great run at the top, more than most will ever achieve in their careers and you should be happy; you might even have a place in the Hall of Fame waiting for you next year. But where there are those who fight to survive, crafting their means to stay alive, to stay relevant, there are others who are handed everything in this world to succeed. And you? Left to rot by the wayside.

No longer the King of the world, now the King of a patch of dirt.

Just another filthy fucking mongrel.
 

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