Post by Swindle Shelldrake on Sept 10, 2021 21:03:14 GMT -5
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---| It's Not Enough, It's Not Enough |---
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: "Early in a wrestler's career, sometimes on that first day of training in some crummy gym in the middle of nowhere with a coach who is more there to scalp your money away for learning how NOT to do a wristlock. Sometimes it's later on when you have some money in pocket from your toils, when it seems like it can be within reach.....sometimes even before all of that, when you're a bright-eyed kid. The dream is always the same, no matter when it really starts to take over your mind. To main event the biggest event of your life. To perform on the grandest of stages, look out to the oceans of faces sitting there to watch the next chapter in your career. Feel validated that you've made it......"
"One thing that doesn't repeat itself in ANY of these hopeful dreams for anyone in this industry, whether you're the ace of aces or some local talent. Nobody pictures themselves getting their big moment....in a 5-on-5 tag match.....to share the spotlight. Not even to share now that I think about it, but to leech it from each other. Friend and foe alike. Nobody dreams of a match like this because it is never truly your fight to begin with. We might be lining up to win, but I fail to ignore the smallest of details on the posters and the billboards and the signs.....we're NOT Team Proving Ground.....We're Team Darling. For Indy Darling, of course. All for one. I suppose it doesn't make too much of a difference in the end, but I can't help but highlight it anyway. But, while a lesser Indy Darling could get flak from me for an ego trip like that for us to wage war on his behalf under his name, he knows how to dangle the carrot, doesn't he? A Grand Championship match isn't something that is thrown around lightly, and the possibility of making such an opportunity a guaranteed thing, even less so. Take the man to challenge the champion in this venue next. Cadillac Jackson had to survive the whole roster to prove himself as the worthy challenger for this stage. While not worthy in the eyes of some, it's a claim with merit. I made my debut in that very same match, so believe you me....I want a Grand Championship match. I want to rewrite that stumbling block in my opening bout and challenge the very top. The taste of that catharsis will come at a cost though. Just as everyone dreams to have their moment stand by itself, nobody really envisions their time to be surrounded by such a motley crew of misfits and jokers. The catch-22 of your offer having a grizzly and unpleasant aftertaste. Do I think any of my momentary allies would deserve a chance at the Grand Championship on purely their own merits? No. To say it bluntly. If they take umbrage with that, then that's their problem. For the fact of the matter remains that I wasn't good enough for that honour either. And so, this disparate crew are left with only what is offered. A promise with no word to keep. But in my judgement.....Arata Asakura, Ulf Hednir, TJ Thompson, Mark Hunter and Swindle Shelldrake are simply left with no alternative. We put aside the qualms that may linger for the greatest of nights, in order for everyone to benefit. If we are not good enough though our own faults or not, then we must become something greater to secure that greater something. I will work with all of you to the best of my ability and intent, because it is convenient for me to do so. And I will happily take such a gamble on the likes of you. Barring Mark Hunter, the rest of us are fighting our way up. Thompson has been calling for a greater challenge than his former championship, the viking wants to smash skulls with everyone, and Arata has some vendetta against anyone and everyone that breaths funny. I've had a taste of what the main event of Project: Honor is like....and it's degrading to pull up the dregs to make it possible once again, but fucking hell I'll do it because I want to be Grand Champion. Me. And they'll all take me there".
"But....to speak of that momentary lapse of reason. That main event. This fleeting camaraderie is not in service to Proving Ground out of any obligation. Or desire for such corporate endeavours. This badge here, for Proving Ground....it's simply because it's NOT Fallout. DeMarco probably thought nothing of his goon squad rolling up into what was to be a moment for ME to capitalise on. Against your not so precious Prime Champion. The big bobble head sitting on the dashboard of the Fallout bus. Incase none of your boys noticed, DeMarco. In case you were too busy running the circus over there.....the guy with your title.....I had him down not for a cheap nearfall of two strikes to that mat. Not even a victorious three.....but a motherfucking count to five!! Please, everyone that's fighting for Fallout against us at Night of Honor think out that. Humour me by letting that sink in. If it wasn't for your desperate attempts to not see everything you guys fight and die for slip away into the water in that very moment, I would have beaten your champion clean as a sheet right before he's headlining the biggest event of this promotion's time. If it wasn't for that fucker DeDraca coming in to protect the big money box office of her precious main event, Jason Long, YOUR champion having to be held up by the crutches of ALL OF YOU!! But go ahead, pretend that you've got this in the bag. Pretend that your whirling dervish of chaos and blood means anything when the entire green brand has been exposed, but some lanky guy who rocked up on his fourth match in the company came to fight and unmask a champion. I walked out of there having done it to two".
"But, for now, I'll have to take that possibility that was denied me, and simply show it to everyone that gets in the way. Just as you did, Mason Destruction. Watching it all back, away from the adrenaline and heat of the moment....you were there on the apron to cost me MY moment. Jason Long should be buying you a fair few beers after that one, for saving the title reign he likes so much. For, indirectly, saving the Legacy Championship match from becoming a farce, only for its participants to do a great job of that themselves. Where it not for your little pluck of that string, I'd have to see a level of respect for you, having actually held a championship in Project: Honor before. But, you just had to show how grateful you were for that reinstatement to Fallout right? Gotta butter it all up and play the game so you don't get booted out again. Maybe win the Ascension Championship again for a cup of coffee like they're all doing nowadays and say that's enough of a career for me, I can get fired again. I can fade off into my family man role again. Listen to the Project: Honor results while you're dropping the kids off at school as we do better than what you achieved. Leaving once is respectable....but you're back. That puts you on thin fucking ice. All it takes is a slip up from you in this match, a Violent Salvage from me, or any move from us, and you're just as washed as you were when nobody remembered you used to work here".
"Your teammates aren't much better. Could have at least been something only left to my retribution for that destroyed main event. But no, now we've got some louts from who-the-fuck-knows where, trying to big themselves up like they're big deals for the sake of being from there. Who the hell are the Killjoy Club? Why should I care? Why should anyone care? Ellie Quinn has a "KINGDOM Pro Atlantic Championship", huh? Oh wow, I'm practically overwhelmed by your brilliance and your attitude and your fucking stupidity. I have no idea why you're in this match. Genuinely, I haven't the foggiest idea why. Ask the masses and your new peers at large, I'm sure they'd all echo a similar sentiment. For you to even THINK that you and your little clique are something for this event is a false narrative. Go play champion over there in the corner while the actual contenders have a real game at the big table. You are not Project: Honor. Your title means jack shit here. If we were to face wherever you're actually meant to mean something, then I'd relent. But you're far, FAR from home now. You're out in the middle of the ocean trying to use a paperweight of a title as your lifeboat and I'll make sure to sink you right to the bottom. Because that's where you belong. That's where everyone trying to hawk around as a big deal from some rinky-dink promotion into the big leagues belongs. You're the very same as the nameless schmucks rotting away in the lower brackets of the Collision Course Tag Tournament. Get Out".
"Leave your boys in The Massacre to do the heavy lifting, they're actually meant to be here. Although, Jay and I will be taking the Tag Team Championships from their hopes and dreams too before this match, so.....I'll just have to double dip into the revenge pot this time, seems like everyone on the copy and paste roster of Fallout looking like some grizzly knacker edgy kid enjoys dying twice over anyway....."
Shelldrake pauses for a moment as he reaches for something that's been placed in his belt line, followed by the light rattling of a metal chain. Emerging from under his jacket is the malicious form of a small sickle, or a Kusarigama as it's called in Japan. Sitting on the crunching chain leash like a cold, steely pet, the black sickle has some bright pink lettering that reads "DIE FALLOUT" along its handle. Swindle's serious expression gives way to a sinister smile, accentuated by the shadow cast to his side from the Tokyo Dome's flood lights, leaving his shadowed side to only bare the shock of pink in his hair, the glimmer of his grin, and the spark of light making its way to glint of the blade.
SWINDLE SHELlDRAKE: "I hope that you're all ready for a taste of your own medicine. In whatever form I deem suitable. Arjen, Seede, SWITCHBLXDE, Queen and Mason. You want war at every turn, correct? Luckily for you, my pragmatism for progress can sometimes have its own similarities to the planets aligning. it takes a lot of effort to do what I do, you know. Putting aside what I could indulge in for the sake of a greater goal. But, I'd imagine nobody really thought that they'd be triggering something far more sinister from their actions in that main event on Proving Ground. A flower in the shade, getting their momentary sunlight via proximity to the "Real Main Eventers". But no, it's not so cut and dry. Because I'm here for not only my betterment, but my catharsis. My excess. Proving Ground has not made an ally of me, but Fallout has made an enemy out of Swindle Shelldrake. The Hybrid Hunter is more than the boundaries of Proving Ground, or even your messy slum of a brand. I am the best of both, and you will come to see it as this blade runs across your heads. Across your necks".
"What better way to see own message burned into the mat than having the blood of all five of you wrested from your veins. So DeMarco can look on and enjoy your suffering, because he's a sick fuck. For all of you to end yourselves for nothing. Blood ready and settled on that mat for Jason Long and DeDraca to see the aftermath of MY Night of Honor main event before their bell rings. So they don't forget what started. What THEY started, as one-half of the new Project: Honor Tag Team Champions closes out the show in style. I'll dip down to not only the levels that my partners dwell in, but to the very hells that my enemies reside too. Because I will use anything and everything for that chance to be a champion instead of any of you. Your losses are my victories whenever they occur. Anything to see myself at the top with that Grand Championship. With the Tag Team Championship.....and for some sweet poetic justice I'd happily show DeDraca and Long the error of their ways after I've laid down the path over all five of you, no matter the cost to me....or to you".
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---| With No Reason For Waking |---
*RING RING*
*RING RING*
ROLAND: "....urgh, hello?"
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: "I want to end them! Those fucks!"
ROLAND: "....S-Swindle? God, I told you, don't ring me when it's out-of-hours over here....not over there. Jeez...."
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: "They won't have anything as long as I can help it. My chance was in the bag, and everything came tumbling down to take it from me. Didn't you see? It can't be about just looking good against a world champion and pretending that's enough anymore. Because I was going to have even more. I was going to have everything against that big-head bastard-"
ROLAND: "-Wha-no, I didn't see it. Anyway, just take whatever you can from whatever happened. Use whatever that is to its fullest. Use everything".
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: "It's about a bigger revenge than just looking good now, you know that right? A greater meaning than whatever anyone else in this match can muster out of some brand warfare shit".
ROLAND: "Look, DeMarco is a psycho and Darling is a broken man. They don't exactly have much leverage if you happen to cause more damage to their boys than expected. They just want to see their name on the winner's team. That's really the bottom, and the only line. Just.....yeah, make it yours. Make the tag tournament yours. Make the main event yours".
"You're the guy of my Tetran Kai dojo, ok? The place for people like you, the outcast of outcasts showing the world what they missed in you. If you're so close to it as you think, then all it takes is that one moment of the planets to align for you to be made. Where the target of your mind, matches the target of your heart. Take some revenge where you want it, as long as it doesn't compromise your end goal. Now I'm going back to sleep. Don't call me at this stupid hour again".
*BZZT*
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---| It's Not Enough, It's Not Enough |---
September 10th, 2021
Tokyo Dome
Tokyo, Japan
Tokyo Dome
Tokyo, Japan
The massive flood lights never fail to amaze and flinch any who look upon them here. When not in the full swing of wrestling's latest marquee event, the legendary Tokyo Dome's cavernous interior is truly shown in its impressiveness when the lights are on. From up in one of the balconies tiers, far away from where the leagues of technicians and ring crew are busy setting the stage for something that will truly be a Night to remember, a Night of Honor, Swindle Shelldrake leans against the railing overlooking the Dome. He's dressed smartly, if not a tad casual for a full media appearance with his fusion of the typical leather jacket over his dress shirt and trousers. Interestingly enough, the plethora of pins adorning his jacket have an additional logo to the list. "Kraken", "British Made", "JÖRMUNGANDR", a black anchor with pink seaweed choking around the sinister metal, the logo of Project: Honor nestled in the middle, an unknown logo that doesn't seem to have a name to it....and with a more specific Proving Ground badge filling in where there once was a space.
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: "Early in a wrestler's career, sometimes on that first day of training in some crummy gym in the middle of nowhere with a coach who is more there to scalp your money away for learning how NOT to do a wristlock. Sometimes it's later on when you have some money in pocket from your toils, when it seems like it can be within reach.....sometimes even before all of that, when you're a bright-eyed kid. The dream is always the same, no matter when it really starts to take over your mind. To main event the biggest event of your life. To perform on the grandest of stages, look out to the oceans of faces sitting there to watch the next chapter in your career. Feel validated that you've made it......"
"One thing that doesn't repeat itself in ANY of these hopeful dreams for anyone in this industry, whether you're the ace of aces or some local talent. Nobody pictures themselves getting their big moment....in a 5-on-5 tag match.....to share the spotlight. Not even to share now that I think about it, but to leech it from each other. Friend and foe alike. Nobody dreams of a match like this because it is never truly your fight to begin with. We might be lining up to win, but I fail to ignore the smallest of details on the posters and the billboards and the signs.....we're NOT Team Proving Ground.....We're Team Darling. For Indy Darling, of course. All for one. I suppose it doesn't make too much of a difference in the end, but I can't help but highlight it anyway. But, while a lesser Indy Darling could get flak from me for an ego trip like that for us to wage war on his behalf under his name, he knows how to dangle the carrot, doesn't he? A Grand Championship match isn't something that is thrown around lightly, and the possibility of making such an opportunity a guaranteed thing, even less so. Take the man to challenge the champion in this venue next. Cadillac Jackson had to survive the whole roster to prove himself as the worthy challenger for this stage. While not worthy in the eyes of some, it's a claim with merit. I made my debut in that very same match, so believe you me....I want a Grand Championship match. I want to rewrite that stumbling block in my opening bout and challenge the very top. The taste of that catharsis will come at a cost though. Just as everyone dreams to have their moment stand by itself, nobody really envisions their time to be surrounded by such a motley crew of misfits and jokers. The catch-22 of your offer having a grizzly and unpleasant aftertaste. Do I think any of my momentary allies would deserve a chance at the Grand Championship on purely their own merits? No. To say it bluntly. If they take umbrage with that, then that's their problem. For the fact of the matter remains that I wasn't good enough for that honour either. And so, this disparate crew are left with only what is offered. A promise with no word to keep. But in my judgement.....Arata Asakura, Ulf Hednir, TJ Thompson, Mark Hunter and Swindle Shelldrake are simply left with no alternative. We put aside the qualms that may linger for the greatest of nights, in order for everyone to benefit. If we are not good enough though our own faults or not, then we must become something greater to secure that greater something. I will work with all of you to the best of my ability and intent, because it is convenient for me to do so. And I will happily take such a gamble on the likes of you. Barring Mark Hunter, the rest of us are fighting our way up. Thompson has been calling for a greater challenge than his former championship, the viking wants to smash skulls with everyone, and Arata has some vendetta against anyone and everyone that breaths funny. I've had a taste of what the main event of Project: Honor is like....and it's degrading to pull up the dregs to make it possible once again, but fucking hell I'll do it because I want to be Grand Champion. Me. And they'll all take me there".
"But....to speak of that momentary lapse of reason. That main event. This fleeting camaraderie is not in service to Proving Ground out of any obligation. Or desire for such corporate endeavours. This badge here, for Proving Ground....it's simply because it's NOT Fallout. DeMarco probably thought nothing of his goon squad rolling up into what was to be a moment for ME to capitalise on. Against your not so precious Prime Champion. The big bobble head sitting on the dashboard of the Fallout bus. Incase none of your boys noticed, DeMarco. In case you were too busy running the circus over there.....the guy with your title.....I had him down not for a cheap nearfall of two strikes to that mat. Not even a victorious three.....but a motherfucking count to five!! Please, everyone that's fighting for Fallout against us at Night of Honor think out that. Humour me by letting that sink in. If it wasn't for your desperate attempts to not see everything you guys fight and die for slip away into the water in that very moment, I would have beaten your champion clean as a sheet right before he's headlining the biggest event of this promotion's time. If it wasn't for that fucker DeDraca coming in to protect the big money box office of her precious main event, Jason Long, YOUR champion having to be held up by the crutches of ALL OF YOU!! But go ahead, pretend that you've got this in the bag. Pretend that your whirling dervish of chaos and blood means anything when the entire green brand has been exposed, but some lanky guy who rocked up on his fourth match in the company came to fight and unmask a champion. I walked out of there having done it to two".
"But, for now, I'll have to take that possibility that was denied me, and simply show it to everyone that gets in the way. Just as you did, Mason Destruction. Watching it all back, away from the adrenaline and heat of the moment....you were there on the apron to cost me MY moment. Jason Long should be buying you a fair few beers after that one, for saving the title reign he likes so much. For, indirectly, saving the Legacy Championship match from becoming a farce, only for its participants to do a great job of that themselves. Where it not for your little pluck of that string, I'd have to see a level of respect for you, having actually held a championship in Project: Honor before. But, you just had to show how grateful you were for that reinstatement to Fallout right? Gotta butter it all up and play the game so you don't get booted out again. Maybe win the Ascension Championship again for a cup of coffee like they're all doing nowadays and say that's enough of a career for me, I can get fired again. I can fade off into my family man role again. Listen to the Project: Honor results while you're dropping the kids off at school as we do better than what you achieved. Leaving once is respectable....but you're back. That puts you on thin fucking ice. All it takes is a slip up from you in this match, a Violent Salvage from me, or any move from us, and you're just as washed as you were when nobody remembered you used to work here".
"Your teammates aren't much better. Could have at least been something only left to my retribution for that destroyed main event. But no, now we've got some louts from who-the-fuck-knows where, trying to big themselves up like they're big deals for the sake of being from there. Who the hell are the Killjoy Club? Why should I care? Why should anyone care? Ellie Quinn has a "KINGDOM Pro Atlantic Championship", huh? Oh wow, I'm practically overwhelmed by your brilliance and your attitude and your fucking stupidity. I have no idea why you're in this match. Genuinely, I haven't the foggiest idea why. Ask the masses and your new peers at large, I'm sure they'd all echo a similar sentiment. For you to even THINK that you and your little clique are something for this event is a false narrative. Go play champion over there in the corner while the actual contenders have a real game at the big table. You are not Project: Honor. Your title means jack shit here. If we were to face wherever you're actually meant to mean something, then I'd relent. But you're far, FAR from home now. You're out in the middle of the ocean trying to use a paperweight of a title as your lifeboat and I'll make sure to sink you right to the bottom. Because that's where you belong. That's where everyone trying to hawk around as a big deal from some rinky-dink promotion into the big leagues belongs. You're the very same as the nameless schmucks rotting away in the lower brackets of the Collision Course Tag Tournament. Get Out".
"Leave your boys in The Massacre to do the heavy lifting, they're actually meant to be here. Although, Jay and I will be taking the Tag Team Championships from their hopes and dreams too before this match, so.....I'll just have to double dip into the revenge pot this time, seems like everyone on the copy and paste roster of Fallout looking like some grizzly knacker edgy kid enjoys dying twice over anyway....."
Shelldrake pauses for a moment as he reaches for something that's been placed in his belt line, followed by the light rattling of a metal chain. Emerging from under his jacket is the malicious form of a small sickle, or a Kusarigama as it's called in Japan. Sitting on the crunching chain leash like a cold, steely pet, the black sickle has some bright pink lettering that reads "DIE FALLOUT" along its handle. Swindle's serious expression gives way to a sinister smile, accentuated by the shadow cast to his side from the Tokyo Dome's flood lights, leaving his shadowed side to only bare the shock of pink in his hair, the glimmer of his grin, and the spark of light making its way to glint of the blade.
SWINDLE SHELlDRAKE: "I hope that you're all ready for a taste of your own medicine. In whatever form I deem suitable. Arjen, Seede, SWITCHBLXDE, Queen and Mason. You want war at every turn, correct? Luckily for you, my pragmatism for progress can sometimes have its own similarities to the planets aligning. it takes a lot of effort to do what I do, you know. Putting aside what I could indulge in for the sake of a greater goal. But, I'd imagine nobody really thought that they'd be triggering something far more sinister from their actions in that main event on Proving Ground. A flower in the shade, getting their momentary sunlight via proximity to the "Real Main Eventers". But no, it's not so cut and dry. Because I'm here for not only my betterment, but my catharsis. My excess. Proving Ground has not made an ally of me, but Fallout has made an enemy out of Swindle Shelldrake. The Hybrid Hunter is more than the boundaries of Proving Ground, or even your messy slum of a brand. I am the best of both, and you will come to see it as this blade runs across your heads. Across your necks".
"What better way to see own message burned into the mat than having the blood of all five of you wrested from your veins. So DeMarco can look on and enjoy your suffering, because he's a sick fuck. For all of you to end yourselves for nothing. Blood ready and settled on that mat for Jason Long and DeDraca to see the aftermath of MY Night of Honor main event before their bell rings. So they don't forget what started. What THEY started, as one-half of the new Project: Honor Tag Team Champions closes out the show in style. I'll dip down to not only the levels that my partners dwell in, but to the very hells that my enemies reside too. Because I will use anything and everything for that chance to be a champion instead of any of you. Your losses are my victories whenever they occur. Anything to see myself at the top with that Grand Championship. With the Tag Team Championship.....and for some sweet poetic justice I'd happily show DeDraca and Long the error of their ways after I've laid down the path over all five of you, no matter the cost to me....or to you".
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---| With No Reason For Waking |---
August 28th, 2021
Sometime Following Proving Ground XXII
Unaired Audio
Sometime Following Proving Ground XXII
Unaired Audio
*RING RING*
*RING RING*
ROLAND: "....urgh, hello?"
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: "I want to end them! Those fucks!"
ROLAND: "....S-Swindle? God, I told you, don't ring me when it's out-of-hours over here....not over there. Jeez...."
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: "They won't have anything as long as I can help it. My chance was in the bag, and everything came tumbling down to take it from me. Didn't you see? It can't be about just looking good against a world champion and pretending that's enough anymore. Because I was going to have even more. I was going to have everything against that big-head bastard-"
ROLAND: "-Wha-no, I didn't see it. Anyway, just take whatever you can from whatever happened. Use whatever that is to its fullest. Use everything".
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: "It's about a bigger revenge than just looking good now, you know that right? A greater meaning than whatever anyone else in this match can muster out of some brand warfare shit".
ROLAND: "Look, DeMarco is a psycho and Darling is a broken man. They don't exactly have much leverage if you happen to cause more damage to their boys than expected. They just want to see their name on the winner's team. That's really the bottom, and the only line. Just.....yeah, make it yours. Make the tag tournament yours. Make the main event yours".
"You're the guy of my Tetran Kai dojo, ok? The place for people like you, the outcast of outcasts showing the world what they missed in you. If you're so close to it as you think, then all it takes is that one moment of the planets to align for you to be made. Where the target of your mind, matches the target of your heart. Take some revenge where you want it, as long as it doesn't compromise your end goal. Now I'm going back to sleep. Don't call me at this stupid hour again".
*BZZT*
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