Troy Douglas vs. Max Blackshire
- Thread starter DBrunkGXW
- Start date
blackshire
Moderator
crafting desire
"To some of you ... it's about the gold. About the belt. About wearing it. About holding it over your head in triumph. About basking in it's glory. About the possession. ...probably the materialistic thirst that american culture has bred in some of you since your unfortunate births. It's all about trophy's. All for show. But I can honestly tell you that that doesn't apply ... with me."
Either the zoom was maxed, or the camera was frighteningly close in proximity to his face. The lens struggled to focus as, slowly, the face of Max Blackshire could be made out. His brow furrowed, his hair still cut shorter than expected, at the shoulders - Max maintained that constant flare of madness somewhere deep in his eyes. The camera never held still, constantly shaking and jarring - a low hum purring in the background.
"The GXW Unified Heavyweight Championship of the World. Sure SOUNDS sweet, doesn't it? HmmMmm. A title that represents the legacy of Extreme Wrestling International as well as the esteem of the NthWA. A title that, since it's creation, has forged - I gather - somewhat of a legacy of it's own. It's a legacy I'm altogether unfamiliar with. A legacy that I am, admittedly, not interested in, at this moment. I couldn't name three former GXW champions were I asked at gunpoint. I just don't care THAT much."
A slight shrug of the shoulders - lop-sided grin.
"Nothing personal."
The camera jolts, and Max briefly braces himself on a wall, trying to hold the camera steady -- it has become clear by now that Max is filming himself.
"Yet ... nonetheless, in my debut match for Global ... it is in a tournament to name a Number One Contender for this ... belt. The first chance I have to prove myself ... to make some sort of tangible impact ... I'm being asked to CARE about this title."
"But I don't."
"So ... I'm forced to take a different approach. You see, I came to Global Xtreme Wrestling to, simply put, fulfill my destiny. Finish MY legacy, my 'story' - MY WAY, under MY TERMS - by capturing the legacy of another. ... and now, in a round about way, that's precisely what I'm being presented with in this tournament. The opportunity to snatch the legacy of the GXW's most prestigious championship - and make it my own. ... not exactly the championship I'd planned on, but ... it will do, for now."
"Today, that championship means nothing to me ... but you other Nineteen competitors, the rest of the Tournament Pool, are going to help CHANGE that for me, aren't you? Leading me to John Miller."
Max smirks unapologetically.
"But he, sadly, is a topic for another, much more interesting day."
"My journey begins with Troy Douglas."
There is a knock at a door - Max doesn't flinch.
"If I have my way ... HIS journey will END there. Fade to black. Cue symphony. Roll credits."
The feed abruptly cuts out.
"To some of you ... it's about the gold. About the belt. About wearing it. About holding it over your head in triumph. About basking in it's glory. About the possession. ...probably the materialistic thirst that american culture has bred in some of you since your unfortunate births. It's all about trophy's. All for show. But I can honestly tell you that that doesn't apply ... with me."
Either the zoom was maxed, or the camera was frighteningly close in proximity to his face. The lens struggled to focus as, slowly, the face of Max Blackshire could be made out. His brow furrowed, his hair still cut shorter than expected, at the shoulders - Max maintained that constant flare of madness somewhere deep in his eyes. The camera never held still, constantly shaking and jarring - a low hum purring in the background.
"The GXW Unified Heavyweight Championship of the World. Sure SOUNDS sweet, doesn't it? HmmMmm. A title that represents the legacy of Extreme Wrestling International as well as the esteem of the NthWA. A title that, since it's creation, has forged - I gather - somewhat of a legacy of it's own. It's a legacy I'm altogether unfamiliar with. A legacy that I am, admittedly, not interested in, at this moment. I couldn't name three former GXW champions were I asked at gunpoint. I just don't care THAT much."
A slight shrug of the shoulders - lop-sided grin.
"Nothing personal."
The camera jolts, and Max briefly braces himself on a wall, trying to hold the camera steady -- it has become clear by now that Max is filming himself.
"Yet ... nonetheless, in my debut match for Global ... it is in a tournament to name a Number One Contender for this ... belt. The first chance I have to prove myself ... to make some sort of tangible impact ... I'm being asked to CARE about this title."
"But I don't."
"So ... I'm forced to take a different approach. You see, I came to Global Xtreme Wrestling to, simply put, fulfill my destiny. Finish MY legacy, my 'story' - MY WAY, under MY TERMS - by capturing the legacy of another. ... and now, in a round about way, that's precisely what I'm being presented with in this tournament. The opportunity to snatch the legacy of the GXW's most prestigious championship - and make it my own. ... not exactly the championship I'd planned on, but ... it will do, for now."
"Today, that championship means nothing to me ... but you other Nineteen competitors, the rest of the Tournament Pool, are going to help CHANGE that for me, aren't you? Leading me to John Miller."
Max smirks unapologetically.
"But he, sadly, is a topic for another, much more interesting day."
"My journey begins with Troy Douglas."
There is a knock at a door - Max doesn't flinch.
"If I have my way ... HIS journey will END there. Fade to black. Cue symphony. Roll credits."
The feed abruptly cuts out.
CuseTroy
League Member
Breaking the Chains
FADE IN...
The morning of December 22 is a cool, crisp early winter day in Greensboro, North Carolina. Troy Douglas, recently recovered from shoulder surgery, jogs throughout the winding streets of his hometown. It is a daily ritual for the now 27 year old veteran competitor, a type of meditation that helps him block out the rest of the universe. Clipped to the waistband of his sweatpants is a CD player, which plays the Bruce Springsteen classic "Thunder Road". As Troy pulls of the road into a park, he draws a bottle of water from his left pocket and takes a deep drink. He slows as he reaches an old wrought iron bench, pulls the headphones from his ears, and takes a deep breath before lifting his head to face the camera.
"Now you see it. The Prodigal Son returns."
"When I lost the GXW X-treme title this past summer, I decided to take a little time off to recuperate from the pains that holding that particular championship provided. I needed a decompression period, away from both the wrestling life that had taken from my body physically, and the personal life that had taken from me emotionally. I needed to heal on both fronts. But now, the healing is over. A new beginning is here. I'm ready, I hope the rest of you are."
"You know, when I first sent the GXW Home Office the notice that my doctors had cleared me for return, I expected to have a couple of warm-up matches against some two-bit kids just out of wrestling school. That they thrust me into a tournament with a shot at the Unified Heavyweight Title at stake tells me that they have some faith into what I can actually do. There are some damn fine competitors in this tournament, including the man I face this coming week."
"Max Blackshire, there really ain't alot that I know about you, except that if you're one of the men in this tournament, you damn well deserve that spot. We're in the same boat, you and I. You're journey to greatness starts with me, but my return from nothingness starts with you. Only difference is, I intend on having no delays on my path. I've got this shot to get to the top, and you better know that I have absolutely no intention of giving that back."
"When I was hurt, I spent alot of time holed up in my home in an attempt to find something to give me back my spark. In the course of my rehabilitation, I happened upon the book Seabiscuit, in which I found the meaning of coming back from the brink of complete loss. I had nothing left in my life except the ring. It's the only consistent thing I have left in my life. I will win the world championship, for my father, my mother, and my closest friend who have all moved on. I seek no glory, only finality. I want my respect back. Of the fans, of the management, of my fellow competitors, and of myself. I won't give up until my task is completed. This week, it starts with you Max Blackshire. After that, it's on to another obstacle, then another, and another, until it comes to its conclusion with John Miller at Battleground Britain."
"Nobody's ready for me, because I'm already here. Goodbye."
...FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN...
The morning of December 22 is a cool, crisp early winter day in Greensboro, North Carolina. Troy Douglas, recently recovered from shoulder surgery, jogs throughout the winding streets of his hometown. It is a daily ritual for the now 27 year old veteran competitor, a type of meditation that helps him block out the rest of the universe. Clipped to the waistband of his sweatpants is a CD player, which plays the Bruce Springsteen classic "Thunder Road". As Troy pulls of the road into a park, he draws a bottle of water from his left pocket and takes a deep drink. He slows as he reaches an old wrought iron bench, pulls the headphones from his ears, and takes a deep breath before lifting his head to face the camera.
"Now you see it. The Prodigal Son returns."
"When I lost the GXW X-treme title this past summer, I decided to take a little time off to recuperate from the pains that holding that particular championship provided. I needed a decompression period, away from both the wrestling life that had taken from my body physically, and the personal life that had taken from me emotionally. I needed to heal on both fronts. But now, the healing is over. A new beginning is here. I'm ready, I hope the rest of you are."
"You know, when I first sent the GXW Home Office the notice that my doctors had cleared me for return, I expected to have a couple of warm-up matches against some two-bit kids just out of wrestling school. That they thrust me into a tournament with a shot at the Unified Heavyweight Title at stake tells me that they have some faith into what I can actually do. There are some damn fine competitors in this tournament, including the man I face this coming week."
"Max Blackshire, there really ain't alot that I know about you, except that if you're one of the men in this tournament, you damn well deserve that spot. We're in the same boat, you and I. You're journey to greatness starts with me, but my return from nothingness starts with you. Only difference is, I intend on having no delays on my path. I've got this shot to get to the top, and you better know that I have absolutely no intention of giving that back."
"When I was hurt, I spent alot of time holed up in my home in an attempt to find something to give me back my spark. In the course of my rehabilitation, I happened upon the book Seabiscuit, in which I found the meaning of coming back from the brink of complete loss. I had nothing left in my life except the ring. It's the only consistent thing I have left in my life. I will win the world championship, for my father, my mother, and my closest friend who have all moved on. I seek no glory, only finality. I want my respect back. Of the fans, of the management, of my fellow competitors, and of myself. I won't give up until my task is completed. This week, it starts with you Max Blackshire. After that, it's on to another obstacle, then another, and another, until it comes to its conclusion with John Miller at Battleground Britain."
"Nobody's ready for me, because I'm already here. Goodbye."
...FADE TO BLACK
blackshire
Moderator
infinite twilight, pt.IV / PROMO -- 'wait'/TakeOff
"Wait!" she called out.
Max grimaced, not missing a beat as he strode through one of the massive lobbys of London's Heathrow Airport. This had been a sudden, unexpected homecoming for Max Blackshire, having been quite some time since his equally hasty departure. His eyes were cautious and suspicious, not sure just whom he might run into. There were many a skeleton in the Blackshire closet on this side of the pond, skeletons with bones to pick, no pun intended.
"Hey ... You!" he heard the woman call out from behind him, this time much closer.
Max stopped, looking up at the Flight Schedule suspended from the raised ceiling. His flight to Zurich was on schedule. Checking his watch, Max noted that - if things went smoothly - he would make it to the GXW house show event to compete in his contest against Troy Douglas with more than enough time to unwind and properly prepare himself.
"I said, WAIT!"
He felt a surprisingly strong tug on his coat, wheeling him almost entirely around. Her hair was falling out of her barrette - but not in an entirely unattractive manner. Her eyes seemed agitated, fists balled and planted on her hips - oozing attitude.
"Ya know," she began, "I was going to thank you, the least you could have done was stop and let me."
Max shook his head, slightly annoyed. "Then, you're welcome," he told her. "Better get moving. You won't have much time."
Walking off in the direction the sign indicated would lead him to Gate 32A, Bridget watched as Max disappeared into the crowd ... leaving her standing there alone.
"You said you knew people who might be able to help me!" she cried out. "...what a jerk!" she exclaimed to herself, realizing that Max was long gone.
Hands in her pockets, one clenched around her wad of american money, Bridget tried to conjure up just what her next move might be. Planting herself on an empty bench as passers-by zoomed past her, to and fro ... Bridget was suddenly struck by the buzzing advert playing on the television fastened to a nearby pillar. She looked up at it, transfixed and not quite sure why.
"--itness as some of the greatest wrestlers in the world compete on a GLOBAL stage! Featuring not just some of Global Xtreme Wrestling's best, but also stars from A1E, CSWA, fWo, and MORE! Scheduled to appear: John Miller! ... Kevin Powers! ... Eli Flair! ... Cross! ... DreamMaker! ... Max Blackshire--"
That was him, she thought to herself.
There was blood trailing down his face in that one brief frame - but she was sure that that was the odd man who'd just bought her ticket to freedom.
"Global Xtreme Wrestling presents ... BATTLEGROUND: BRITAIN!!! ...select seats still available."
A wrestler, she wondered. How ... unique a profession. Perhaps that helped explain his equally unique demeanor? Bridget wasn't sure. She was, however, very intrigued.
Making a mental note of the date of the event, Bridget got to her feet and headed for the Tourism Help Desk. Her plans, at least for the immediate future, were set. She would stay in London. At least for the next few weeks.
- - - - - -
The camera flickered on just as the rumble, the roar of the engines hit their zenith. The shadow of the airplane swept over the concrete just before the plane itself soared in - then quickly out - of camera shot, rocketing into the air. Max Blackshire then stepped into frame, taking a seat - indian style - on the tarmac just before the camera, several 747's seen taxiing in the distance behind him.
Flicking his finished cigarette through the air in a hail of dying embers, Max swept his flailing hair from his eyes - squinting from the rather intense wind.
"Not quite sure what to make of you, Troy Douglas. I must admit that I haven't really done that much research on you. Just a quick 'GOOGLE' in mid-flight. The GXW website doesn't really do you any great service either, I feel I should inform you. Their coverage of your collegiate career is moreso an attempt to highlight a few semi-successful athetles whom you were once an aquaintance of."
"Am I meant to be impressed that you once played on a team with of atheletes who later went on to enjoy MUCH more success than YOU have? Sorry. It's not very likely."
Reaching into his pocket, Max pulls out what he soon finds is an empty pack of Silk Cut. Tossing it aside with a frustrated smirk, he turns back to the camera. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of another plane taking off can be heard.
"And then there's your run, here, in GXW -- where some might argue things matter most. A former GXW X-Treme Champion who, after losing the belt, took a self imposed months-long sabbatical in order to ... to, what, Troy? ... Heal? Your body ... or your pride, I have to wonder. Blame it on surgery. On rehab. That usually works. Nonetheless ...You and I are both stepping into the ring for the first time in SOME time, in this contest. My respite was forced by outside means, the closing of Superior. YOURS was self-inflicted. YOU were the one who chose to walk away, wounds; mental, physical, or Not. You lost your prescious gold, tucked your tail, and fell off the face of the earth."
"Now ... there's gold offered up and, voila, here you are."
He smiles, teasingly.
"See, what drives us is distinctly different. You are driven by some story-book fantasy about beating the odds, coming back from the brink of defeat, and several other hacknied cliches. You want to win this tournament, to get you to the World Championship, to win it for "respect". Maybe to FINALLY be held in the same esteem as those old over-hyped college chums of yours. Maybe to FINALLY tell YOURSELF you're "good enough"."
"Me?"
"I want to win this ... simply ... to make a statement. To step into this company, never having competed here, and walk straight up the ladder, straight to the top. Not for 'respect' or 'finality'. But to send a Message. The title, that which you're striving for - counting on, is meaningless to me. I intend to change that, match by match, little by little. YOU will play a part in that, Troy Douglas. Take some solace in that fact."
"In the meantime ... it's time for me, and my career here in Global ... to Take Off."
And again, an instantaneous roar of noise buffets the camera. Squinting, Max throws an arm before his eyes as a monstrous shadow is cast above -- just before the camera follows a 747 soaring towards the clouds.
"Please fasten your safety-belts."
"Wait!" she called out.
Max grimaced, not missing a beat as he strode through one of the massive lobbys of London's Heathrow Airport. This had been a sudden, unexpected homecoming for Max Blackshire, having been quite some time since his equally hasty departure. His eyes were cautious and suspicious, not sure just whom he might run into. There were many a skeleton in the Blackshire closet on this side of the pond, skeletons with bones to pick, no pun intended.
"Hey ... You!" he heard the woman call out from behind him, this time much closer.
Max stopped, looking up at the Flight Schedule suspended from the raised ceiling. His flight to Zurich was on schedule. Checking his watch, Max noted that - if things went smoothly - he would make it to the GXW house show event to compete in his contest against Troy Douglas with more than enough time to unwind and properly prepare himself.
"I said, WAIT!"
He felt a surprisingly strong tug on his coat, wheeling him almost entirely around. Her hair was falling out of her barrette - but not in an entirely unattractive manner. Her eyes seemed agitated, fists balled and planted on her hips - oozing attitude.
"Ya know," she began, "I was going to thank you, the least you could have done was stop and let me."
Max shook his head, slightly annoyed. "Then, you're welcome," he told her. "Better get moving. You won't have much time."
Walking off in the direction the sign indicated would lead him to Gate 32A, Bridget watched as Max disappeared into the crowd ... leaving her standing there alone.
"You said you knew people who might be able to help me!" she cried out. "...what a jerk!" she exclaimed to herself, realizing that Max was long gone.
Hands in her pockets, one clenched around her wad of american money, Bridget tried to conjure up just what her next move might be. Planting herself on an empty bench as passers-by zoomed past her, to and fro ... Bridget was suddenly struck by the buzzing advert playing on the television fastened to a nearby pillar. She looked up at it, transfixed and not quite sure why.
"--itness as some of the greatest wrestlers in the world compete on a GLOBAL stage! Featuring not just some of Global Xtreme Wrestling's best, but also stars from A1E, CSWA, fWo, and MORE! Scheduled to appear: John Miller! ... Kevin Powers! ... Eli Flair! ... Cross! ... DreamMaker! ... Max Blackshire--"
That was him, she thought to herself.
There was blood trailing down his face in that one brief frame - but she was sure that that was the odd man who'd just bought her ticket to freedom.
"Global Xtreme Wrestling presents ... BATTLEGROUND: BRITAIN!!! ...select seats still available."
A wrestler, she wondered. How ... unique a profession. Perhaps that helped explain his equally unique demeanor? Bridget wasn't sure. She was, however, very intrigued.
Making a mental note of the date of the event, Bridget got to her feet and headed for the Tourism Help Desk. Her plans, at least for the immediate future, were set. She would stay in London. At least for the next few weeks.
- - - - - -
The camera flickered on just as the rumble, the roar of the engines hit their zenith. The shadow of the airplane swept over the concrete just before the plane itself soared in - then quickly out - of camera shot, rocketing into the air. Max Blackshire then stepped into frame, taking a seat - indian style - on the tarmac just before the camera, several 747's seen taxiing in the distance behind him.
Flicking his finished cigarette through the air in a hail of dying embers, Max swept his flailing hair from his eyes - squinting from the rather intense wind.
"Not quite sure what to make of you, Troy Douglas. I must admit that I haven't really done that much research on you. Just a quick 'GOOGLE' in mid-flight. The GXW website doesn't really do you any great service either, I feel I should inform you. Their coverage of your collegiate career is moreso an attempt to highlight a few semi-successful athetles whom you were once an aquaintance of."
"Am I meant to be impressed that you once played on a team with of atheletes who later went on to enjoy MUCH more success than YOU have? Sorry. It's not very likely."
Reaching into his pocket, Max pulls out what he soon finds is an empty pack of Silk Cut. Tossing it aside with a frustrated smirk, he turns back to the camera. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of another plane taking off can be heard.
"And then there's your run, here, in GXW -- where some might argue things matter most. A former GXW X-Treme Champion who, after losing the belt, took a self imposed months-long sabbatical in order to ... to, what, Troy? ... Heal? Your body ... or your pride, I have to wonder. Blame it on surgery. On rehab. That usually works. Nonetheless ...You and I are both stepping into the ring for the first time in SOME time, in this contest. My respite was forced by outside means, the closing of Superior. YOURS was self-inflicted. YOU were the one who chose to walk away, wounds; mental, physical, or Not. You lost your prescious gold, tucked your tail, and fell off the face of the earth."
"Now ... there's gold offered up and, voila, here you are."
He smiles, teasingly.
"See, what drives us is distinctly different. You are driven by some story-book fantasy about beating the odds, coming back from the brink of defeat, and several other hacknied cliches. You want to win this tournament, to get you to the World Championship, to win it for "respect". Maybe to FINALLY be held in the same esteem as those old over-hyped college chums of yours. Maybe to FINALLY tell YOURSELF you're "good enough"."
"Me?"
"I want to win this ... simply ... to make a statement. To step into this company, never having competed here, and walk straight up the ladder, straight to the top. Not for 'respect' or 'finality'. But to send a Message. The title, that which you're striving for - counting on, is meaningless to me. I intend to change that, match by match, little by little. YOU will play a part in that, Troy Douglas. Take some solace in that fact."
"In the meantime ... it's time for me, and my career here in Global ... to Take Off."
And again, an instantaneous roar of noise buffets the camera. Squinting, Max throws an arm before his eyes as a monstrous shadow is cast above -- just before the camera follows a 747 soaring towards the clouds.
"Please fasten your safety-belts."