Post by Bronx Valescence on Sept 16, 2015 17:27:12 GMT -5
“Fuckin’ TEE VOLAND.”
Tee Voland.
That’s all Bronx would have to hear about the next year, the next month, the next decade was Tee Voland. As furious as he had been trying to beat some of the Riddler missions on Arkham Knight, it didn’t make him as fired up as when he was nailed by some move by Tee and then thrown out of the ring by her only to hear the bell ring seconds later. It shouldn’t have made him as mad as it did, but this was his moment to prove he was the best thing to come out of Anzac. It was his moment to prove he had been robbed of never getting to face Prince Wkajhdhrtep for the New Zealand World Anzac Championship (Bronx had never bothered to look up what it was actually called, he just wanted it because it was shiny), and Tee Voland had rained on that parade.
Voland never pinned Bronx, either. She simply tossed him out of the ring. Any other time this wouldn’t have been a win, the match would have continued and just like always, Bronx would have beaten Tee Voland like he had before. Either by tying her up in some weird fashion like he did in Anzac Pro or pin her in the middle of the ring. Tee hated him, he knew that. But he insisted Tee must get on his level before he would even acknowledge her as a rival, and honestly she hadn’t got there yet. By simply jumping him and throwing him over the top rope?
Tee fuckin’ Voland could have her little moral victory. She could stand tall at the end of the night and represent Anzac, but everyone knew who Wayne’s favorite was. Everyone knew who made Anzac worth talking about, and it sure as hell wasn’t Tee Voland.
“I’m out of this place!”
Bronx had yelled when he came backstage after the loss. Honestly he couldn’t leave quickly enough. He didn’t want to see Tee’s smug face backstage, taunting him on Twitter and the like because he knew she wasn’t on his level, but on this night she was and so she inched closer to him, she got more bragging rights over him which enraged him.
“I don’t have time to fool around in the mid card with Tee Voland. I have main events to be in. I have shown where my name across the marquee will sell it out, and the LAST thing I need is to be carrying Tee Voland to five star matches because we all know…I’m the better wrestler than Tee Voland. I’ve proven it a hundred times but now that she has ONE circumstance on me? That’s going to get played out, over and over because I’m the ONLY reason she’s any bit popular. Because of who I am. NOT because of what she is…What does Tee Voland do anyway?”
As he stormed around backstage talking to himself like a mad man he held out his fingers and ticked them off one by one.
“She can’t get any of her own ideas, she has to use mine. Just like her little press release last week. She isn’t creative, she isn’t innovative, and she just steals and repeats the shit I do so she can be funny. She isn’t funny, you can only say ‘kiss my pale ass’ on Twitter so many times before nobody laughs anymore…And listen I get it. I know Tee could say the same for me. The difference is, I’m actually relevant. Tee Voland? She’s a punchline because of me. I get it, I say it me a lot. I talk about big foot. I talk about UFO’s, but guess what fucko’s…”
He cupped his hands over his mouth.
“I AM A GOOD WRESTLER UNLIKE TEE VOLAND!”
Bronx slammed a fist down onto a plastic table, causing a backstage worker to jump a bit as he continued to walk toward the locker room.
“Without me, Tee Voland is standing in front of a camera in the same scene saying the same shit as she did the week prior. Without me, Tee Voland isn’t winning that match because she has no reason to only to prove me wrong. Without me, Tee Voland is an afterthought, without me, nobody tweets at Tee Voland or talks to Tee Voland. I’m sick of TEE VOLAND…IN MY LIFE. Tee has never pinned me, Tee has never submitted me, and all she’s done is accidentally throw me over the top rope. Do we even know if she meant to? I don’t.”
Eventually Bronx would get to his locker room, with his ring gear in his hand he tossed it aside and angrily sat down in the folding chair and rubbed his hands through his head several times, he could hear his phone buzzing on the table a couple of feet away and he knew, just knew he was the laughing stock. He had left GIW where he main evented so many times to lose to Tee Voland. To lose to someone who he made fun of for weeks for losing to him. With a couple of deep breaths he leaned back in the folding chair and stared ahead at the plain, white wall.
It was blank like a fresh canvas.
That’s when it hit him, as he sat in the silence of his own locker room. Bronx didn’t have anything to live up to anymore. Here, he hadn’t painted a damn thing. Here, in NGW he could paint his own picture. It didn’t have to live up to what Chris Callum was painting, or what Alexis Terry was painting. They didn’t matter anymore. GIW didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered is he gave NGW all he had, and if that meant fighting Tee Voland for the 100th time, excuse me, BEATING Tee Voland for the 100th time, then so be it.
A fresh start, a deep breath of fresh air, and he was fine. Bronx stood up, cooled down now from his anger filled rant. It still stung that he lost to Voland—it really did. Despite everything Bronx still cared about wins and losses. It was still about that to him, not what happened outside of the ring, not a soap opera. His story would be told but it would be told in the ring. Bronx began to gather his things, when he saw a piece of paper under the light of his locker room. It was a contract for NGW.
For a long moment he stood there and looked at the contract, he lifted it up and looked it over. In the silence of the locker room, everything began to become clear for him.
Sure, signing with NGW meant that he would have to deal with Tee Voland from now until one or the other ran the other out of the company or NGW shut down. Sure it meant jokes from other companies, but Bronx had seen what NGW was doing. Slowly but surely, some of the best in the world was coming to NGW. Alioth Starre had signed a contract. John Williams Kingsley was a very credible champion. Journeyman Phillips would be competing there.
Why not? Why not blaze a trail for himself. Why not him, why not Bronx Valescence challenging John Wiliams Kingsley for the NGW title. Why not Alioth Starre vs. Bronx Valescence under the NGW banner. Why not tell the story he was always wanting to tell in a NGW ring.
“You know what?”
He mumbled to himself, in a moment he proceeded to pull a pen from his bag which was just over from where he stood with the piece of paper. He steadied the paper on the table before he signed his name in a loopy signature.
“I know this story can’t be told in a week, or in a day. When it’s all said and done though, I will make a name for I…Right here in NGW.”
Bronx folded the piece of paper in the middle before he dropped it on the table before he nodded to himself, his hair dancing and jiggling with his every move.
“I know for the last few months I’ve went at Tee Voland pretty hard. I know I’ve told the whole world and everyone who wants to listen that I don’t want near the same ring as her because I’ve beaten her so many times and I’ve got nothing to prove. But tonight, things change. Tonight, I got the wake-up call I needed. If Tee Voland wants to take everything, copy it, and then claim it for her own. Let her. If she wants to tell me to kiss her pale ass for the 100th time. Let her. Her insults are like a sassy overweight mother who has been at the DMV all day. If Tee Voland wants me to consider her a rival?”
He opened his arms.
“Well here is her chance. I signed a NGW contract, not because I want to beat Tee Voland. Not because I want to be New Zealand Champion. On the flip side of that, I know to get there, I have to once and for all shut Tee Voland up. So Tee, you wanted me? You got me. You want to make fun of me for having some fun and actually bringing some color to a dull world? You got me. You are a stepping stone, Tee. You are the little leagues, you aren’t on my level, you’ve never been on my level and the only reason you beat me at the last NGW show was because you got lucky and tossed me over the top rope. You aren’t half the wrestler I am, you aren’t have the entertainer I am. Even if you combined the two you wouldn’t be half.”
The fire that permeated from his voice was the same that danced behind his eyes. Tee Voland had goaded him long enough, she had done nothing but tell Bronx about how he was running from her. Well, if that was the case, he was tired of running. Tired of her making excuses of why she lost. Tired of being bullied on social media from the ass kicking’s he had given Tee Voland before.
“To get where I want to be. I have to dispose of Tee Voland. To get where I want to be I have to prove she isn’t on my level. My first goal is to beat Tee Voland and that’s all Tee will ever be, a stepping stone into my future here in NGW. I’m not here to just win the old Anzac belt. One day I will challenge for that NGW Heavyweight strap, but first…I put an end to Tee Voland and her endless, haphazard, uneducated trash talk against one of the BEST this business has to offer.”
With that Bronx pounded his chest a couple of times, so hard it made a sound like a bass beating in a song.
“Forget what you see on Twitter and…Well if you have me on Tinder. FORGET the Big Foots and the UFO’s. All I care about, all I want to do is to shut Tee Voland’s fat mouth. I don’t want to see her in front of a camera saying the same shit she always does. I don’t want to see her poking fun at me for what I’m doing. I want to see some creativity, because this is the week I surpass Tee Voland. This is the week I put that bitch in her place, this is the week I put my name on the map here in NGW—that I’m not some kind of bystander who just walked up and stepped into a ring. This week I prove why I’m the best wrestler in the world, and this week in NGW?”
Bronx nodded.
“I arrive.”
He backed up and grabbed his things, leaving the contract on the table, it was the only thing he left behind before he disappeared out the door, eventually his footsteps died away.
Tee Voland.
That’s all Bronx would have to hear about the next year, the next month, the next decade was Tee Voland. As furious as he had been trying to beat some of the Riddler missions on Arkham Knight, it didn’t make him as fired up as when he was nailed by some move by Tee and then thrown out of the ring by her only to hear the bell ring seconds later. It shouldn’t have made him as mad as it did, but this was his moment to prove he was the best thing to come out of Anzac. It was his moment to prove he had been robbed of never getting to face Prince Wkajhdhrtep for the New Zealand World Anzac Championship (Bronx had never bothered to look up what it was actually called, he just wanted it because it was shiny), and Tee Voland had rained on that parade.
Voland never pinned Bronx, either. She simply tossed him out of the ring. Any other time this wouldn’t have been a win, the match would have continued and just like always, Bronx would have beaten Tee Voland like he had before. Either by tying her up in some weird fashion like he did in Anzac Pro or pin her in the middle of the ring. Tee hated him, he knew that. But he insisted Tee must get on his level before he would even acknowledge her as a rival, and honestly she hadn’t got there yet. By simply jumping him and throwing him over the top rope?
Tee fuckin’ Voland could have her little moral victory. She could stand tall at the end of the night and represent Anzac, but everyone knew who Wayne’s favorite was. Everyone knew who made Anzac worth talking about, and it sure as hell wasn’t Tee Voland.
“I’m out of this place!”
Bronx had yelled when he came backstage after the loss. Honestly he couldn’t leave quickly enough. He didn’t want to see Tee’s smug face backstage, taunting him on Twitter and the like because he knew she wasn’t on his level, but on this night she was and so she inched closer to him, she got more bragging rights over him which enraged him.
“I don’t have time to fool around in the mid card with Tee Voland. I have main events to be in. I have shown where my name across the marquee will sell it out, and the LAST thing I need is to be carrying Tee Voland to five star matches because we all know…I’m the better wrestler than Tee Voland. I’ve proven it a hundred times but now that she has ONE circumstance on me? That’s going to get played out, over and over because I’m the ONLY reason she’s any bit popular. Because of who I am. NOT because of what she is…What does Tee Voland do anyway?”
As he stormed around backstage talking to himself like a mad man he held out his fingers and ticked them off one by one.
“She can’t get any of her own ideas, she has to use mine. Just like her little press release last week. She isn’t creative, she isn’t innovative, and she just steals and repeats the shit I do so she can be funny. She isn’t funny, you can only say ‘kiss my pale ass’ on Twitter so many times before nobody laughs anymore…And listen I get it. I know Tee could say the same for me. The difference is, I’m actually relevant. Tee Voland? She’s a punchline because of me. I get it, I say it me a lot. I talk about big foot. I talk about UFO’s, but guess what fucko’s…”
He cupped his hands over his mouth.
“I AM A GOOD WRESTLER UNLIKE TEE VOLAND!”
Bronx slammed a fist down onto a plastic table, causing a backstage worker to jump a bit as he continued to walk toward the locker room.
“Without me, Tee Voland is standing in front of a camera in the same scene saying the same shit as she did the week prior. Without me, Tee Voland isn’t winning that match because she has no reason to only to prove me wrong. Without me, Tee Voland is an afterthought, without me, nobody tweets at Tee Voland or talks to Tee Voland. I’m sick of TEE VOLAND…IN MY LIFE. Tee has never pinned me, Tee has never submitted me, and all she’s done is accidentally throw me over the top rope. Do we even know if she meant to? I don’t.”
Eventually Bronx would get to his locker room, with his ring gear in his hand he tossed it aside and angrily sat down in the folding chair and rubbed his hands through his head several times, he could hear his phone buzzing on the table a couple of feet away and he knew, just knew he was the laughing stock. He had left GIW where he main evented so many times to lose to Tee Voland. To lose to someone who he made fun of for weeks for losing to him. With a couple of deep breaths he leaned back in the folding chair and stared ahead at the plain, white wall.
It was blank like a fresh canvas.
That’s when it hit him, as he sat in the silence of his own locker room. Bronx didn’t have anything to live up to anymore. Here, he hadn’t painted a damn thing. Here, in NGW he could paint his own picture. It didn’t have to live up to what Chris Callum was painting, or what Alexis Terry was painting. They didn’t matter anymore. GIW didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered is he gave NGW all he had, and if that meant fighting Tee Voland for the 100th time, excuse me, BEATING Tee Voland for the 100th time, then so be it.
A fresh start, a deep breath of fresh air, and he was fine. Bronx stood up, cooled down now from his anger filled rant. It still stung that he lost to Voland—it really did. Despite everything Bronx still cared about wins and losses. It was still about that to him, not what happened outside of the ring, not a soap opera. His story would be told but it would be told in the ring. Bronx began to gather his things, when he saw a piece of paper under the light of his locker room. It was a contract for NGW.
For a long moment he stood there and looked at the contract, he lifted it up and looked it over. In the silence of the locker room, everything began to become clear for him.
Sure, signing with NGW meant that he would have to deal with Tee Voland from now until one or the other ran the other out of the company or NGW shut down. Sure it meant jokes from other companies, but Bronx had seen what NGW was doing. Slowly but surely, some of the best in the world was coming to NGW. Alioth Starre had signed a contract. John Williams Kingsley was a very credible champion. Journeyman Phillips would be competing there.
Why not? Why not blaze a trail for himself. Why not him, why not Bronx Valescence challenging John Wiliams Kingsley for the NGW title. Why not Alioth Starre vs. Bronx Valescence under the NGW banner. Why not tell the story he was always wanting to tell in a NGW ring.
“You know what?”
He mumbled to himself, in a moment he proceeded to pull a pen from his bag which was just over from where he stood with the piece of paper. He steadied the paper on the table before he signed his name in a loopy signature.
“I know this story can’t be told in a week, or in a day. When it’s all said and done though, I will make a name for I…Right here in NGW.”
Bronx folded the piece of paper in the middle before he dropped it on the table before he nodded to himself, his hair dancing and jiggling with his every move.
“I know for the last few months I’ve went at Tee Voland pretty hard. I know I’ve told the whole world and everyone who wants to listen that I don’t want near the same ring as her because I’ve beaten her so many times and I’ve got nothing to prove. But tonight, things change. Tonight, I got the wake-up call I needed. If Tee Voland wants to take everything, copy it, and then claim it for her own. Let her. If she wants to tell me to kiss her pale ass for the 100th time. Let her. Her insults are like a sassy overweight mother who has been at the DMV all day. If Tee Voland wants me to consider her a rival?”
He opened his arms.
“Well here is her chance. I signed a NGW contract, not because I want to beat Tee Voland. Not because I want to be New Zealand Champion. On the flip side of that, I know to get there, I have to once and for all shut Tee Voland up. So Tee, you wanted me? You got me. You want to make fun of me for having some fun and actually bringing some color to a dull world? You got me. You are a stepping stone, Tee. You are the little leagues, you aren’t on my level, you’ve never been on my level and the only reason you beat me at the last NGW show was because you got lucky and tossed me over the top rope. You aren’t half the wrestler I am, you aren’t have the entertainer I am. Even if you combined the two you wouldn’t be half.”
The fire that permeated from his voice was the same that danced behind his eyes. Tee Voland had goaded him long enough, she had done nothing but tell Bronx about how he was running from her. Well, if that was the case, he was tired of running. Tired of her making excuses of why she lost. Tired of being bullied on social media from the ass kicking’s he had given Tee Voland before.
“To get where I want to be. I have to dispose of Tee Voland. To get where I want to be I have to prove she isn’t on my level. My first goal is to beat Tee Voland and that’s all Tee will ever be, a stepping stone into my future here in NGW. I’m not here to just win the old Anzac belt. One day I will challenge for that NGW Heavyweight strap, but first…I put an end to Tee Voland and her endless, haphazard, uneducated trash talk against one of the BEST this business has to offer.”
With that Bronx pounded his chest a couple of times, so hard it made a sound like a bass beating in a song.
“Forget what you see on Twitter and…Well if you have me on Tinder. FORGET the Big Foots and the UFO’s. All I care about, all I want to do is to shut Tee Voland’s fat mouth. I don’t want to see her in front of a camera saying the same shit she always does. I don’t want to see her poking fun at me for what I’m doing. I want to see some creativity, because this is the week I surpass Tee Voland. This is the week I put that bitch in her place, this is the week I put my name on the map here in NGW—that I’m not some kind of bystander who just walked up and stepped into a ring. This week I prove why I’m the best wrestler in the world, and this week in NGW?”
Bronx nodded.
“I arrive.”
He backed up and grabbed his things, leaving the contract on the table, it was the only thing he left behind before he disappeared out the door, eventually his footsteps died away.
