[LK] CLUTCH.

Posts : 12 Join date : 2022-03-03

One day your mouth will write a check that your ass can’t cash.

Graham Baker told me that, you know. It was probably the only useful thing that came out of that wretched fuck’s mouth, outside of the whole learning to wrestle and learning to fight-type thing. He knew what I was from the moment I stepped across from him in that training ring, knew I had a spitfire tongue and that I’d use it to the best of my fucking ability whenever the moment conveniently presented itself to slip words through someone’s ribcage like so many fucking daggers to the chest.

He called it arrogant, but useful.

Still, he warned me. Told me one day some sly fuck would mix all that shit up and throw it back in my face, hit me with a curveball by splaying my own words out on the goddamned cutting board, chopping them up and using them against me.

That day has come, eh Finn?

You think dipping back into our twitter spat is cute, eh? So you can paint an image to these people watching that I’m a fucking hypocrite, that I’m lazy, that whether you measure by quality or quantity, I’ve got neither. It’s really adorable, truly. I spit a few words out from my fucking keyboard and you spend days agonizing over it, keeping it fresh in your fucking brainpan for the moment you get a chance to shoot back at me with your cute little screenshots and flashbacks.

Do I really keep you up at night like that, Finn? Did you really need to dip your toes back into waters that i’ve long since left behind, the product of an early morning coffee twitter finger tussle before I hopped on a flight to go fucking fight someone, somewhere, anywhere?

It’s a little sad, really.

I know how much you want this-because you’ve been without the gold for a hot minute, eh? That’s why you’ve got the chase for Santana on, that’s why you’re trying to pluck each and every chicken in Kings’ Road, that’s why you’ve been pursuing any opportunity to get some bling around your waist no matter the cost that comes to you. Greed’s a dark thing to fuck around with, Finn, but you know that. You’re just convinced that when you sink to a level below where we’re at now, you can stare the devil in the face, despite everything, and have him back down.

You sound a little desperate, Finn. You’re clutching at each and every straw, because you’ve already beaten me. We can talk methodologies back and forth, but that shit’s boring. I’ll give you the W in the win column, and because of that, you think you’ve earned this championship. Hell, you don’t even think I should be here, do you? You’d rather fight the Shogun one on one and rack up another easy win, because at the heart of it-that’s all you really want to do, right? That’s where your true colors lie, right?

A few nights ago, I sat in a crowd in Cleveland and watched you beat a virtual child within an inch of her life, and for what? You offered her a handshake, she took it, and then you tried to break her fucking arm. Now, a few days removed, you want to play the hero? Now, just a bit of time away from that, you want to say that I’m the villain, that I’m undeserving, that I’m the hypocrite? For fucking what? Because I said I carry this company on my back? Because you didn’t do enough research to see what I’ve actually been up to?

I can’t even call you a cunt, because you lack the structural complexity and warmth of one, it’d be a fucking compliment. You’re a withered old parasite, and you’re latching onto the last fucking thing you see to give you relevancy. You’ve done the same in the other promotions I mentioned, but this? This gives you immediate gratification, the shiver you get before you bust, the fucking reward that comes without all the hard fucking work you had to do through this promotion to get there. Need I remind you that you were on the losing end at the last pay-per-view where I beat your fiance half to death in front of a raging crowd. Where I went deep into the fucking pocket to do what I had to do to retain this championship.

And if I could do that to her, someone I fucking respect, someone who paved the way for someone like me-then tell me, Finn, what am I going to do to someone who’s RUN THEIR MOUTH ABOUT ME FOR THE LAST FEW FUCKING WEEKS?!

If you want to talk about Twitter, I can talk about our initial confrontation where you didn’t want my fight for some fucking reason, maybe because you were afraid. Time has shown that you can pin me, you can hold my shoulders down for a three, but Event Horizon will show something entirely different; when you come for me in a fight just like this, you better come heavy, or not fucking come at all.

I’m not going down easy.

…

But you’re only half the equation, Finn. You’re only one half of a puzzle that keeps me from declaring undisputed supremacy as I run through each and every motherfucker on this roster.

You’ve been quiet, Arata. I know you want this belt just as bad as he does, but you haven’t yet come for it. You haven’t made your claim for it. I know your Golden Dawn boys are probably watching my every move, trying to make sure that you’re one step ahead of me at all fucking times, so in that way I’m prepared. I’m sure you’re going into this match ready for the fight of a lifetime, I’m sure you’ve studied our tapes, studied us in the present, but you still remain silent. You still cling to fucking shadows.

Why is that?

Your gameplan leaves a lot to be desired from time to time, but I’ve never known you to be reserved in the violence you’ve inflicted, the underhanded nature of your ploys, the way that you scheme and slither like a fucking snake in the grass waiting for a time to strike. Reptillian just like your goddamned namesake, Golden Dragon, but far less brave. Far more willing to bend the rules to get exactly what you want, exactly when you fucking want it.

This championship can’t be bent to your will so easily, though.

Like I said initially, I’ve got a lot to prove. Both you and Finn managed to put me in the dirt before, and many of your students have tried to take pounds of flesh from me in the years after the fact, so I’ve got ground to make up here. I’m not foolish to think that I don’t, to try and be oblivious to the upper-handedness of your existence, here, but I’ve got to remind you that those last encounters you and I had were years ago, now, while I still dyed my hair blue and pretended to be a brick shithouse, little else.

When I was a fucking child.

Just as you’ve evolved in your godliness and whatever-the-fuck-else you may have up your sleeve, Arata, I’ve evolved in my fucking technique, my skill, my methodology. I’m still a powerhouse, but I’m so much stronger, so much faster, so much better than the girl you knocked out in the Aviator Invitational. As you purged your weakness so long ago, I learned to live in mine, I learned to kill it from the inside, I learned to grow through it. I was willing to confront mistakes, missteps, the chances that I should have taken more advantage of. I know that you watched me as I watched you, watched me falter and fall out of companies that you became dominant in, watched me flee from my own fucking mistakes. I’m sure you could rattle off the list of names with such intensity that everyone here would think I was a fucking goner.

But I’ve learned from those experiences, Arata. I’ve gotten through the muck and mire, no matter how hard it was for me to do. I’ve learned to embrace potential failure when it comes my way, to take it head on, and to weather that storm until there is nothing left of it but the softest brush of wind in the atmosphere.

You? You never have. You look at faults and you immediately try to weasel your way back in. Project: Honor, WrestleWorld, OWA, you’ve made your way back to championship opportunities that would be better suited going to fucking anyone else, opportunities that you don’t goddamned DESERVE. You shouldn’t be fighting Azumi and Bishop, they should be duking that one out on their own. You never should have had a chance to contend for that Grand Championship twice over, you had to learn, but you didn’t.

You always, always took your fucking shortcuts. You always had someone to get their hands dirty so you didn’t fucking have to. You never learned the weight of your mistakes, that sometimes a misstep doesn’t come with a guaranteed second chance.

But you’re gonna learn that today.

At Event Horizon, your end is coming, Arata. Finn’s too, for that matter, because I can’t let the two of you direct this narrative. I can’t let men who’ve made their legacies off the abuse and ruination of others continue their stories off of my back. I can’t let this fucking title go.

This is the most important match of my fucking career, one of the biggest challenges, because if I can beat the two of you, maybe I can be best in the fucking world, too. But if I can’t, I lose everything. I risk losing Matt Miles the direction of this company, its fucking backbone, which will crack and crumble under the weight of parasites just like the two of you. I risk losing all that I’ve worked for, all the blood and sweat I put out against Senn, against Grace, even against Finn-I risk that all meaning fucking nothing.

Moreover, I risk the livelihood of every single person in that fucking locker room, because when one person like you finds success here, the rest will come in like a goddamned flood.

When we step into the ring on Sunday, I won’t be walking in alone. I’ve got the hopes and dreams of everyone who’s ever been told that they couldn’t stack up to people just like you, the screaming roar of that Philadelphia crowd the night I won, and each and every person who’s ever told me that I inspired them bolstering me the fuck up. I can’t let them down.

I won’t let them down.

…

If you boys want this title, want the soul of this company that I’ve put upon myself to carry so you have another trophy to jerk off over, come and fucking get it. Come for me with bared teeth and sharpened claws, but be fucking forewarned.

I will not quit.

I will not falter.

Moreso than that, I will go further than I’ve ever gone before. I will fight you with the force of each and every person who’s had my back throughout my fucking career, and you will feel an overwhelming surge of violence unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. You will find yourself crushed under a deluge of unbelievable force, and when the tide comes in, when you feel that pressure mounting, you’ll realize that you’re trapped in my fucking clutch.

You will feel the searing pain, the breath leaving your lungs, and no matter how hard you try to struggle, you will find no fucking release. You will find no relief to your agony.

And you will have no choice, no option, no exit strategy but the inevitable.

…

You will fucking tap out.