Roleplay period starts on Wednesday, April 25 and ends Tuesday, May 1. 2 roleplay max in this round.
Round 1: Pat Gordon, Jr. vs. Suicide
- Thread starter Chad
- Start date
Ernie
El Gringo Loco
On the Lowell Line to Lowell, Mass...
where he had heard his bracket of the UltraTitle was to wrestle, Pat Gordon, Jr. sat in his seat with a duffel bag beside him. He tossed his newspaper into the empty seat next to the duffel bag. The train was nearly to Lowell, and images of the city flickered in the window beside him.
PGJr: “The Man. The Myth. The Legend.
“Suicide, the Mysterious Wanderer that you are, you’ve wandered into the UltraTitle tournament and right into the ring with a Gordon. And it’s about damn time. You know my father, and you know that he had two dreams for his career. The first was to win the UltraTitle. The other was to beat you.
“You were always one of the best, always on the top, ever since he first met you in the RMWF and probably even before then. Because of that, he knew that beating you would prove that he, too, was one of the best, that he could fight the most dangerous wrestlers of them all and win. It was more about pride with him than glory, but oh the glory would have followed.
“Unfortunately for Da, he never had a chance to compete for the UltraTitle, and he never beat you. But those dreams weren’t only his. No. I grew up watching him wrestle - hell, watching YOUwrestle - with those same dreams for myself. In fact, let me show you something...”
Pat Gordon, Jr. reached into his duffel bag and produced a small black mask with a white “S” on the front. It was old, and a bit worn, but still preserved as well as it could be. He looked at it nostalgically, rubbing the mask between his thumb and forefinger.
PGJr: “My dad brought this home for me one night after a match. I used to have so much fun wearing this as a kid; I even dressed as you once on All Hallows Eve. You know, the old man always believed you had some sort of mystical powers. Hell, Ibelieved it, too. And I don’t even want to get into what Max Hopper thinks about you...
The Son of Paddy snapped back to the present and he dropped the little Suicide mask. He pointed his finger straight out, as if Suicide were standing right in front of him.
PGJr: “But I’m no longer the same kid who used to run around dressed up as Suicide. I’m not looking up to you; I’m looking across the ring from you. And I stand here today with the chance to make not just one of those childhood dreams, but BOTHof them come true. I have the opportunity to step into the ring with you - to beat you - and to go on and maybe win the UltraTitle.
“And I know that in the end it only takes three seconds - “ Pat Gordon, Jr. raised three fingers “THREE SECONDS - to either win or lose a wrestling match. A win can come from anywhere, and at any point, we’re both only one Suicide Driver or one Sunday Morning Hangover away from defeat.
“The reason I’m telling you all of this, Suicide, is because I want you to know how much this match means, not just to me, but to my family. I don’t want you to come in there and take me lightly, to think you have an easy way into round two. I want you to know you’re in there with a Gordon, a MOTIVATED Gordon at that.
“I expect this to be the fight to end all fights, the one people are still talking about even after the finals. I want everyone begging us to step back into the ring with each other, begging for Pat Gordon, Jr. vs. Suicide Part II, because, ‘Damn they tore the house down the first time!’ - which is, of course, a very LITERAL possibility whenever there’s a Gordon involved.
“What I want, Suicide, is to beat you at your best. I want you to bring it, because you’re going to find out what fighting a Gordon is all about, and I want to find out what fighting Suicide is all about.”
Pat grabbed his duffel bag and exited the train, leaving the little Suicide mask alone on the floor.
where he had heard his bracket of the UltraTitle was to wrestle, Pat Gordon, Jr. sat in his seat with a duffel bag beside him. He tossed his newspaper into the empty seat next to the duffel bag. The train was nearly to Lowell, and images of the city flickered in the window beside him.
PGJr: “The Man. The Myth. The Legend.
“Suicide, the Mysterious Wanderer that you are, you’ve wandered into the UltraTitle tournament and right into the ring with a Gordon. And it’s about damn time. You know my father, and you know that he had two dreams for his career. The first was to win the UltraTitle. The other was to beat you.
“You were always one of the best, always on the top, ever since he first met you in the RMWF and probably even before then. Because of that, he knew that beating you would prove that he, too, was one of the best, that he could fight the most dangerous wrestlers of them all and win. It was more about pride with him than glory, but oh the glory would have followed.
“Unfortunately for Da, he never had a chance to compete for the UltraTitle, and he never beat you. But those dreams weren’t only his. No. I grew up watching him wrestle - hell, watching YOUwrestle - with those same dreams for myself. In fact, let me show you something...”
Pat Gordon, Jr. reached into his duffel bag and produced a small black mask with a white “S” on the front. It was old, and a bit worn, but still preserved as well as it could be. He looked at it nostalgically, rubbing the mask between his thumb and forefinger.
PGJr: “My dad brought this home for me one night after a match. I used to have so much fun wearing this as a kid; I even dressed as you once on All Hallows Eve. You know, the old man always believed you had some sort of mystical powers. Hell, Ibelieved it, too. And I don’t even want to get into what Max Hopper thinks about you...
The Son of Paddy snapped back to the present and he dropped the little Suicide mask. He pointed his finger straight out, as if Suicide were standing right in front of him.
PGJr: “But I’m no longer the same kid who used to run around dressed up as Suicide. I’m not looking up to you; I’m looking across the ring from you. And I stand here today with the chance to make not just one of those childhood dreams, but BOTHof them come true. I have the opportunity to step into the ring with you - to beat you - and to go on and maybe win the UltraTitle.
“And I know that in the end it only takes three seconds - “ Pat Gordon, Jr. raised three fingers “THREE SECONDS - to either win or lose a wrestling match. A win can come from anywhere, and at any point, we’re both only one Suicide Driver or one Sunday Morning Hangover away from defeat.
“The reason I’m telling you all of this, Suicide, is because I want you to know how much this match means, not just to me, but to my family. I don’t want you to come in there and take me lightly, to think you have an easy way into round two. I want you to know you’re in there with a Gordon, a MOTIVATED Gordon at that.
“I expect this to be the fight to end all fights, the one people are still talking about even after the finals. I want everyone begging us to step back into the ring with each other, begging for Pat Gordon, Jr. vs. Suicide Part II, because, ‘Damn they tore the house down the first time!’ - which is, of course, a very LITERAL possibility whenever there’s a Gordon involved.
“What I want, Suicide, is to beat you at your best. I want you to bring it, because you’re going to find out what fighting a Gordon is all about, and I want to find out what fighting Suicide is all about.”
Pat grabbed his duffel bag and exited the train, leaving the little Suicide mask alone on the floor.
The End of Solian: Chapter 1, Part 1
The camera faded into nothing but black. A voice is heard within the darkness
“You are in a dark room. It is pitch black and you see nothing but darkness. What do you do?”
“You say, ‘Turn on the lights’, but how do you know where the light switch is? Nevertheless, I turn on the lights for you.”
Within that moment, illumination appears and shows what looks like to be a smoking room. The walls and floor are lined with red velvet with chocolate leather chairs with some dark-stained cherry wood tables in between some of them. In the background there is nothing but empty space with several red curtains hanging from what appears to be door frames. Whatever is hiding behind the curtains does not matter because sitting in the middle of this room is, what appears to be, a well-groomed man with his visage shrouded in darkness. This unknown individual rests comfortably in a leather chair wearing a pinstripe suit. In his right hand, a lit cigar glows faintly while in his left, a snifter with some reddish-brown liquid
“You see before you a total stranger who looks upon you with interest. He sees the bewilderment in your eyes as you are confused by your surrounds.”
“You ask, ‘Who are you?’ I tell you I am of no consequence to you, but I will play a part in this story soon enough. You then ask me, ‘What story? What are you talking about?’ That is when I begin my long diatribe:
“Hello young Gordon. I know you have expected to hear from a man you hold in high regard by the name of Suicide. Unfortunately, his time has almost expired. You see, for years, the man known as Ulysis Solian has wrestled under the guise of The Mysterious Wanderer but he can no longer sustain it. Suicide has outlived his usefulness.
“This tournament, the ULTRATITLE tournament, is one where many a wrestle will compete to prove they are the ultimate professional wrestler in our sport, or business as some will say, without question. But for Suicide and the rest of his ‘brethren’, this is the final chapter to their story.
“The mind of Solian has always been a fragile one; caught between the eternal struggle of his emotions. His... personas have been battling for control ever since the day of ‘The Incident’. But now, they all must go.”
The dark figure takes a puff of his cigar and releases a cloud of smoke into the air.
“I know you had expected to face Suicide in the ring, but unfortunately for you young Gordon, that will not happen. He has one final purpose before he disappears for good. So the question you wish to ask me then is, ‘Then who do I face against in the first round, if not Suicide?’
“As I stated before, Suicide is one of many personas for Ulysis Solian. In each round of this ULTRATITLE tournament, depending on their success, you will either see one or all of the many faces of Solian, including your beloved Suicide. His final story will be an epic... or nothing more than a simple haiku. That depends on your, young Gordon...”
The dark figure places his cigar in an a stray on top of a side table to his right while resting his snifter on a side table to his left. With his right hand, he reaches and grabs a stack of cards. He shuffles the deck between his hands as he leans forward, his face still cloaked from view.
“In life, we all must play with the hand that is dealt to us and you young Gordon are no exception. While you certainly have a wrestling pedigree being born into a famous wrestling family, you are still a student of this sport. I think you are unworthy of facing a man like Suicide, I will make you an offer:
“If you happen to defeat the opponent I choose from this deck of cards, I will give you what you desire and you can face the Suicide you happily, and disgustingly blindly, worship at time and place of your choosing. However, should you lose, your dream, how lucid it may be, will not be fulfilled. Do we have an accord?”
The dark figure pulls a card from the deck.[\i]
“Well young Gordon, since you have no say in the matter, here is your opponent that you will face...”
The card is revealed to be...
"The Hound is the persona of which Ulysis Solian was at his lowest. He had no respect for himself and was very submissive. He obeyed his one and only master, but she was a cruel *****. Chained and enslaved, The Hound only destroys that which his master chooses. But since she is no longer The Hound’s master, I have come to his aid to assist him in his final wrestling match.
“He is a fair challenge for you young Gordon, as he is a test to see not only how worthy you are, but also how much you really wish to win this tournament. In order for you to advance in this tournament, you need to be fearless and relentless against your enemies. This tournament for you and the other hundred twenty-six participants means more to you all than life itself. This is your one and only chance to prove you belong amongst the... *coughs* ...elite of professional wrestling. You do want to do your father proud, don’t you Patrick? Every son should aspire to achieve more than their forefathers and this is the best way to do so.
“However, The Hound, known to some as S, will not relent. He is fighting for a single purpose and he is willing to sacrifice his life to do so... to continue the story. I wish for the story to be told in its entirety and you are the first one to prevent that from happening. I can not allow this to happen. S will not allow this to happen.
“You better to be at your best when you face off against The Hound, otherwise both of your childhood dreams will become nothing more than present-day nightmares. And you wouldn’t want to disappoint your dear ol’ Da and become nothing more than a total embarrassment to him and your family name, now would you?”
The dark figure leans back in the leather chair and lightly chuckles as he grabs his snifter and takes a drink. The camera then faded out...
The camera faded into nothing but black. A voice is heard within the darkness
“You are in a dark room. It is pitch black and you see nothing but darkness. What do you do?”
“You say, ‘Turn on the lights’, but how do you know where the light switch is? Nevertheless, I turn on the lights for you.”
Within that moment, illumination appears and shows what looks like to be a smoking room. The walls and floor are lined with red velvet with chocolate leather chairs with some dark-stained cherry wood tables in between some of them. In the background there is nothing but empty space with several red curtains hanging from what appears to be door frames. Whatever is hiding behind the curtains does not matter because sitting in the middle of this room is, what appears to be, a well-groomed man with his visage shrouded in darkness. This unknown individual rests comfortably in a leather chair wearing a pinstripe suit. In his right hand, a lit cigar glows faintly while in his left, a snifter with some reddish-brown liquid
“You see before you a total stranger who looks upon you with interest. He sees the bewilderment in your eyes as you are confused by your surrounds.”
“You ask, ‘Who are you?’ I tell you I am of no consequence to you, but I will play a part in this story soon enough. You then ask me, ‘What story? What are you talking about?’ That is when I begin my long diatribe:
“Hello young Gordon. I know you have expected to hear from a man you hold in high regard by the name of Suicide. Unfortunately, his time has almost expired. You see, for years, the man known as Ulysis Solian has wrestled under the guise of The Mysterious Wanderer but he can no longer sustain it. Suicide has outlived his usefulness.
“This tournament, the ULTRATITLE tournament, is one where many a wrestle will compete to prove they are the ultimate professional wrestler in our sport, or business as some will say, without question. But for Suicide and the rest of his ‘brethren’, this is the final chapter to their story.
“The mind of Solian has always been a fragile one; caught between the eternal struggle of his emotions. His... personas have been battling for control ever since the day of ‘The Incident’. But now, they all must go.”
The dark figure takes a puff of his cigar and releases a cloud of smoke into the air.
“I know you had expected to face Suicide in the ring, but unfortunately for you young Gordon, that will not happen. He has one final purpose before he disappears for good. So the question you wish to ask me then is, ‘Then who do I face against in the first round, if not Suicide?’
“As I stated before, Suicide is one of many personas for Ulysis Solian. In each round of this ULTRATITLE tournament, depending on their success, you will either see one or all of the many faces of Solian, including your beloved Suicide. His final story will be an epic... or nothing more than a simple haiku. That depends on your, young Gordon...”
The dark figure places his cigar in an a stray on top of a side table to his right while resting his snifter on a side table to his left. With his right hand, he reaches and grabs a stack of cards. He shuffles the deck between his hands as he leans forward, his face still cloaked from view.
“In life, we all must play with the hand that is dealt to us and you young Gordon are no exception. While you certainly have a wrestling pedigree being born into a famous wrestling family, you are still a student of this sport. I think you are unworthy of facing a man like Suicide, I will make you an offer:
“If you happen to defeat the opponent I choose from this deck of cards, I will give you what you desire and you can face the Suicide you happily, and disgustingly blindly, worship at time and place of your choosing. However, should you lose, your dream, how lucid it may be, will not be fulfilled. Do we have an accord?”
The dark figure pulls a card from the deck.[\i]
“Well young Gordon, since you have no say in the matter, here is your opponent that you will face...”
The card is revealed to be...
"The Hound is the persona of which Ulysis Solian was at his lowest. He had no respect for himself and was very submissive. He obeyed his one and only master, but she was a cruel *****. Chained and enslaved, The Hound only destroys that which his master chooses. But since she is no longer The Hound’s master, I have come to his aid to assist him in his final wrestling match.
“He is a fair challenge for you young Gordon, as he is a test to see not only how worthy you are, but also how much you really wish to win this tournament. In order for you to advance in this tournament, you need to be fearless and relentless against your enemies. This tournament for you and the other hundred twenty-six participants means more to you all than life itself. This is your one and only chance to prove you belong amongst the... *coughs* ...elite of professional wrestling. You do want to do your father proud, don’t you Patrick? Every son should aspire to achieve more than their forefathers and this is the best way to do so.
“However, The Hound, known to some as S, will not relent. He is fighting for a single purpose and he is willing to sacrifice his life to do so... to continue the story. I wish for the story to be told in its entirety and you are the first one to prevent that from happening. I can not allow this to happen. S will not allow this to happen.
“You better to be at your best when you face off against The Hound, otherwise both of your childhood dreams will become nothing more than present-day nightmares. And you wouldn’t want to disappoint your dear ol’ Da and become nothing more than a total embarrassment to him and your family name, now would you?”
The dark figure leans back in the leather chair and lightly chuckles as he grabs his snifter and takes a drink. The camera then faded out...
Ernie
El Gringo Loco
Re: The End of Solian: Chapter 1, Part 1
In front of a house in Lowell, Massachusetts...
in one of the less attractive neighborhoods of the city, Pat Gordon, Jr. stood before a menacing rottweiler. The dog snarled, barked, and jumped all around, making efforts to attack the young Gordon. These efforts were futile, however, as Junior was outside of the reach of the dog's chain.
PGJr: "If you're not getting in the ring with me, then bollocks to you, Mystery Fella (MF? Nice one). I'm going to talk to my opponent."
Paddy turned toward the dog and squatted down, still out of reach.
PGJr: "This is a beautiful beast, Solian, one that I'm sure would tear me to shreds... if he could reach me. That's the problem with being on a chain. In this dog's mind, I'm a threat. He doesn't know that I have no interest in his house or his masters, and so he's willing to defend them. But there's a problem, and that problem is the chain holding him back. He can't tear me to shreds, Solian. He can't even attack me so long as I stay out of his reach. The same can be said for you, so long as you're on that leash your Mystery Fella has tied around your neck."
The Boston Bruiser stood, turning away from the predator before him. He walked away.
PGJr: "Now whoever this guy is, *coughGideonDarkheartcough*, he's put us in a very interesting situation. It seems that now we're both fighting to free you. Mr. Mystery Fella tells me that if I beat you, I face you under your better known persona - Suicide. If you win, you get to use one of your other personae in each round you last. This would seem like a win-win for you, except that it very well could mean your early exit from the UltraTitle tournament. The last time you were so submissive, you lost a lot, and I mean A LOT. Mystique Darkheart was holding you back. Now, you've found someone else to hold you back.
"I new you'd come out here and play some mind games, maybe talk a little trash, and I was ready for that. But I never thought that you'd pull something so... stupid.
"Do you really think I'm 'unworthy' of facing you, Suicide? You've got to be taking the piss. I'm a (CENSORED)ING GORDON! My dad AND my uncle were the very living embodiment of HARDCORE and GOOD WRESTLING! I'm the man who renders the whole argument of Nature vs. Nurture pointless, because I've got BOTH! And I... I am 'UNWORTHY' of facing Suicide???"
Pat Gordon, Jr. was fuming. His lips formed into an ugly snarl, with a long strand of saliva dangling from them.
PGJr: "The 'card' I was dealt was Suicide. It was dealt to me by a freaking random generator. A RANDOM GENERATOR! This was supposed to be my big shot - to even the score for my father against Suicide, to turn the wrestling world on its head by beating such a big name so early into my career, and to advance in the UltraTitle tournament. And now I'm suddenly 'unworthy' of facing Suicide?
People in the neighborhood went inside and locked their doors. They wanted to avoid the crazy, ranting guy walking down the street.
PGJr: "So what do you really gain from this, Suicide? What do you gain from coming to the ring, walked out on a leash like some b(CENSORED)? Your 'master' calls me 'unworthy' of facing you at your best, but what's really going on here? You're either making a fatal error in underestimating your opponent - the kind of error I had thought you were too smart to make - or maybe you, yourself, are afraid. You're afraid of Suicide, the name you're known by around the globe, losing to a 'student of the sport' in Pat Gordon, Jr.
The Boston Bruiser stopped walking when he came to a bus stop.
PGJr: "Are you really sure you want to go down this road? I was motivated before, but now I'm pissed. Is that what you really want? You want to step into the ring with an enraged Gordon? Because I don't think you can handle that. I don't think you can handle the brutality, especially if you're playing smoke and mirrors and taking off your famous mask for one that's lesser known. I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I'm willing to break my body in order to break yours. I'm willing to tear the arena apart, girder by girder and brick by brick, and clobber you with every piece, if that's what it takes to win.
"I'm going to come into this match prepared for you to be at your best, not your worst. I suggest you do the same, because this match will be no less important to me if you don't call yourself Suicide. Call yourself Ulysis Solian, S... hell, you can even grow out your hair like a Yorkshire terrier and call yourself Snooki for all I care. At the end of the day, you are who you are and I am who I am. I'm Pat Gordon, Jr. - and you better get yourself ready or you're going to have a very, very early exit from UltraTitle."
The bus Pat was waiting for arrived and he boarded it. On the front, the bus read, "R2."
In front of a house in Lowell, Massachusetts...
in one of the less attractive neighborhoods of the city, Pat Gordon, Jr. stood before a menacing rottweiler. The dog snarled, barked, and jumped all around, making efforts to attack the young Gordon. These efforts were futile, however, as Junior was outside of the reach of the dog's chain.
PGJr: "If you're not getting in the ring with me, then bollocks to you, Mystery Fella (MF? Nice one). I'm going to talk to my opponent."
Paddy turned toward the dog and squatted down, still out of reach.
PGJr: "This is a beautiful beast, Solian, one that I'm sure would tear me to shreds... if he could reach me. That's the problem with being on a chain. In this dog's mind, I'm a threat. He doesn't know that I have no interest in his house or his masters, and so he's willing to defend them. But there's a problem, and that problem is the chain holding him back. He can't tear me to shreds, Solian. He can't even attack me so long as I stay out of his reach. The same can be said for you, so long as you're on that leash your Mystery Fella has tied around your neck."
The Boston Bruiser stood, turning away from the predator before him. He walked away.
PGJr: "Now whoever this guy is, *coughGideonDarkheartcough*, he's put us in a very interesting situation. It seems that now we're both fighting to free you. Mr. Mystery Fella tells me that if I beat you, I face you under your better known persona - Suicide. If you win, you get to use one of your other personae in each round you last. This would seem like a win-win for you, except that it very well could mean your early exit from the UltraTitle tournament. The last time you were so submissive, you lost a lot, and I mean A LOT. Mystique Darkheart was holding you back. Now, you've found someone else to hold you back.
"I new you'd come out here and play some mind games, maybe talk a little trash, and I was ready for that. But I never thought that you'd pull something so... stupid.
"Do you really think I'm 'unworthy' of facing you, Suicide? You've got to be taking the piss. I'm a (CENSORED)ING GORDON! My dad AND my uncle were the very living embodiment of HARDCORE and GOOD WRESTLING! I'm the man who renders the whole argument of Nature vs. Nurture pointless, because I've got BOTH! And I... I am 'UNWORTHY' of facing Suicide???"
Pat Gordon, Jr. was fuming. His lips formed into an ugly snarl, with a long strand of saliva dangling from them.
PGJr: "The 'card' I was dealt was Suicide. It was dealt to me by a freaking random generator. A RANDOM GENERATOR! This was supposed to be my big shot - to even the score for my father against Suicide, to turn the wrestling world on its head by beating such a big name so early into my career, and to advance in the UltraTitle tournament. And now I'm suddenly 'unworthy' of facing Suicide?
People in the neighborhood went inside and locked their doors. They wanted to avoid the crazy, ranting guy walking down the street.
PGJr: "So what do you really gain from this, Suicide? What do you gain from coming to the ring, walked out on a leash like some b(CENSORED)? Your 'master' calls me 'unworthy' of facing you at your best, but what's really going on here? You're either making a fatal error in underestimating your opponent - the kind of error I had thought you were too smart to make - or maybe you, yourself, are afraid. You're afraid of Suicide, the name you're known by around the globe, losing to a 'student of the sport' in Pat Gordon, Jr.
The Boston Bruiser stopped walking when he came to a bus stop.
PGJr: "Are you really sure you want to go down this road? I was motivated before, but now I'm pissed. Is that what you really want? You want to step into the ring with an enraged Gordon? Because I don't think you can handle that. I don't think you can handle the brutality, especially if you're playing smoke and mirrors and taking off your famous mask for one that's lesser known. I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I'm willing to break my body in order to break yours. I'm willing to tear the arena apart, girder by girder and brick by brick, and clobber you with every piece, if that's what it takes to win.
"I'm going to come into this match prepared for you to be at your best, not your worst. I suggest you do the same, because this match will be no less important to me if you don't call yourself Suicide. Call yourself Ulysis Solian, S... hell, you can even grow out your hair like a Yorkshire terrier and call yourself Snooki for all I care. At the end of the day, you are who you are and I am who I am. I'm Pat Gordon, Jr. - and you better get yourself ready or you're going to have a very, very early exit from UltraTitle."
The bus Pat was waiting for arrived and he boarded it. On the front, the bus read, "R2."
The End of Solian: Chapter 1, Part 2
“Lights.”
The camera showed a smoking room as soon as the lights turned on. Sitting back in a leather chair at the center of the room with a lit cigar in hand was the dark figure shown last time. This time, however, crouched on the floor under the dark figure’s left hand was S. The dark figure patted The Hound as he took a puff of his cigar. He then began to talk soon after smoke left his lips.
“Hello young Patrick Gordon, lovely to see you again. I know we have got off on the wrong foot, so allow me to apologize for my words before if they offended you in any way. After all, you are a Gordon, so that means you, by virtue of your father and uncle apparently, are the living embodiment of Hardcore and Good Wrestling...”
The dark figure pauses for a moment.
“‘Good Wrestling’? Is that what you associate yourself with? ‘Good Wrestling’?
“You know, young Gordon, I was offering you a way to advance in this tournament and grant you your biggest dream. Someone of your wrestling ‘caliber’ and ‘pedigree’ obviously wants to win the ULTRATITLE to prove yourself to the entire wrestling world that you belong amongst the best of the best. But once you associated yourself with ‘Good Wrestling’, that just confirmed to me what I already knew from the start...
“You are not ready.”
The dark figure pets S on his head as he takes another puff of his cigar.
“The Hound has wrestled many times before. He has not always been successful but he is dutiful to his job. When you face S young Gordon, he will not be led by anyone. The chains come off and The Hound is unleashed. He is free to do what he likes to you and judging by your crass attitude and unsavory words, it seems you will be nothing more than a mere chew toy to him.
“You have shown the perfect example as to why you are not worthy of facing Suicide - simply put, you are immature, unfocused, and afraid. The Mysterious Wanderer fears no one, the least of which you. Just look at you; ranting and raving about what you will do and how far you will go to destroy my Hound. And yet, how can you beat S at your very best when you’re nothing more than a good wrestler? Being just good does not cut it in this sport, let alone this tournament. Do you really believe that you, just being good against Suicide, would have granted you the sought-after victory you so desire? You already know the answer to this so how in the world will you have a chance at S?”
The dark figure leans forward, resting his left elbow on the armrest of the leather chair.
“Young Gordon, you have obviously no clue as to what awaits you or the situation you are in. You seek to validate your existence while I and my friends seek only an peaceful end. Can you give us that end, Patrick? Will you help us finish this story or will you just be the first casualty in the continuation of this epic novel? Whether you win or lose, you will get to face your hero, for better or for worse.
“Unfortunately, you seem to be ill-prepared for this match and I’m afraid my Hound will have to end you. Ranting and yelling like an uncivilized buffoon will do nothing more than harm your chances at victory. Maybe, just maybe, when it’s all said and done, S will become your master...
“And you will be his b*tch.”
The dark figure leans back again in the leather chair and laughs humbly to himself. He then takes a puff of his cigar as the camera zooms in on the masked face of S. The camera instantly cuts out.
“Lights.”
The camera showed a smoking room as soon as the lights turned on. Sitting back in a leather chair at the center of the room with a lit cigar in hand was the dark figure shown last time. This time, however, crouched on the floor under the dark figure’s left hand was S. The dark figure patted The Hound as he took a puff of his cigar. He then began to talk soon after smoke left his lips.
“Hello young Patrick Gordon, lovely to see you again. I know we have got off on the wrong foot, so allow me to apologize for my words before if they offended you in any way. After all, you are a Gordon, so that means you, by virtue of your father and uncle apparently, are the living embodiment of Hardcore and Good Wrestling...”
The dark figure pauses for a moment.
“‘Good Wrestling’? Is that what you associate yourself with? ‘Good Wrestling’?
“You know, young Gordon, I was offering you a way to advance in this tournament and grant you your biggest dream. Someone of your wrestling ‘caliber’ and ‘pedigree’ obviously wants to win the ULTRATITLE to prove yourself to the entire wrestling world that you belong amongst the best of the best. But once you associated yourself with ‘Good Wrestling’, that just confirmed to me what I already knew from the start...
“You are not ready.”
The dark figure pets S on his head as he takes another puff of his cigar.
“The Hound has wrestled many times before. He has not always been successful but he is dutiful to his job. When you face S young Gordon, he will not be led by anyone. The chains come off and The Hound is unleashed. He is free to do what he likes to you and judging by your crass attitude and unsavory words, it seems you will be nothing more than a mere chew toy to him.
“You have shown the perfect example as to why you are not worthy of facing Suicide - simply put, you are immature, unfocused, and afraid. The Mysterious Wanderer fears no one, the least of which you. Just look at you; ranting and raving about what you will do and how far you will go to destroy my Hound. And yet, how can you beat S at your very best when you’re nothing more than a good wrestler? Being just good does not cut it in this sport, let alone this tournament. Do you really believe that you, just being good against Suicide, would have granted you the sought-after victory you so desire? You already know the answer to this so how in the world will you have a chance at S?”
The dark figure leans forward, resting his left elbow on the armrest of the leather chair.
“Young Gordon, you have obviously no clue as to what awaits you or the situation you are in. You seek to validate your existence while I and my friends seek only an peaceful end. Can you give us that end, Patrick? Will you help us finish this story or will you just be the first casualty in the continuation of this epic novel? Whether you win or lose, you will get to face your hero, for better or for worse.
“Unfortunately, you seem to be ill-prepared for this match and I’m afraid my Hound will have to end you. Ranting and yelling like an uncivilized buffoon will do nothing more than harm your chances at victory. Maybe, just maybe, when it’s all said and done, S will become your master...
“And you will be his b*tch.”
The dark figure leans back again in the leather chair and laughs humbly to himself. He then takes a puff of his cigar as the camera zooms in on the masked face of S. The camera instantly cuts out.