Post by PH RECORDS on Nov 29, 2020 12:33:58 GMT -5
-Jason Terrance is sitting behind a small folding table. On top is an assortment of plastic cases, stacked tall. Each of the stacks has a different picture on top, but his name is plastered somewhere on each of them. He’s seated on top of metal folding chair arms crossed. His expression? Noticeably more sour than the taste of ten black cherry warheads. Maybe it was because nobody had shown up to buy even a single mixtape, or maybe it was Callum Walkers little “bombshell.”
After all, this was only a few hours after the first ever Proving Grounds. Jason, while tapping his foot on the cement, looking out at the rest of the booth selling through their stock of various bits of wrestling merchandise, would be replaying it in his mind. Not only was he second, but there was going to be another wrinkle. Yet another opponent to tear through. Someone else he felt was standing in his way of truly pulling himself out of the hell that was his life.
Jason got paid right after the event of course. However, in his mind, that could be taken from him at any opportunity. In the back of his mind he hated the idea his son would now have to witness how ruthless of a man he truly was. The lengths he was willing to go to to make sure Jason and his own had theirs. Is that fair to someone so young and innocent? Jason shook his head, He as a child went through worse, but he indeed wanted to be better.
He put his head between his hands for a moment, trying to calm himself down. His anger always got the better of him and he didn’t want to scare away any potential customers. He needed a minute to regain control of himself, because if people saw the way he was tormented, they may ignore him. That was one of his worst fears, being ignored. He didn’t want to risk lashing out at the very society who didn’t care if he lived or died. He just wanted people to hear him.
Yet people weren’t there. Jason was reminded of the sweet little promises Jackson made him. Things like “Wrestlers have a platform” and “If they are good enough they make careers after.” Those hollow words seemed in the moment more like insults. Affronts to who he was trying to be. Yet there was something fun about decimating another person in the ring. These thoughts lingered like a thick fog. Was he only going to be a heavy handed beast?
As if on a divine cue someone steps up to the table. Jason at first doesn’t even notice them. Their eyes scan the different piles as Jason remains covered up. Eventually one of them catches their eye and they pick it up from the stack to give it a once over. Jason hears the plastic slide and sits up. Upon inspection, Jason had determined this was just some random bloke. This person had a Project Honor T-shirt on and wasn’t exactly old, perhaps ten years Jason’s junior, but he couldn’t be sure.
Jason would take note of the case the person picked up though. It was one of his later works. The cover was him standing in front of a horribly beaten down car. The title “Never Forget.” Despite it being the car he owned at the time, that particular piece was full of tracks that spoke about staying grounded. To keep in mind every
Superstar comes from somewhere, and he started with nothing. Jason asks quickly:-
“Why that one fam?”
-The person smirks for a second and then offers back-
“Because I had the same car man.”
-Jason could not keep himself from smiling. Of course you could never know what the song sounded like based on an album cover, or could even guess what the music would be about. Today’s game was totally different than twenty years ago and it would certainly be different in twenty more. The only thread that stays the same is the cover never tells the whole story. Yet Jason respected the brutal honesty this person provided. He even felt like a weight just lifted off his shoulders, despite being sore from earlier in the evening.-
“Mine was a piece no doubt. You into Rap?”
“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons I’m over here. No offense, but you have a lot to work on in the ring, but I figured I’d check what you have going on.”
-Those words were an insult to Jason for whatever reason. He trained for months, he had to use every ounce of cash he had to keep the bills paid. And this person comes along and basically shits on what he put out. Jason’s fists balled but he held his tongue.-
“Thanks homie. I think you’ll like that one.”
“Oh”
“Yeah its about the struggle. It’s about never letting the past go. You start from somewhere and end up elsewhere. But it’s more about the history that got you there.”
-The fan would stand there a second, just staring at what they had in their hand. It was a bit awkward, but eventually they would dig in their pocket. They would bring the wad of cash to their face and count out the bills and lay then on the table.-
“You know if you weren’t a wrestler, you’d probably make a good salesman.”
-The person would chuckle a bit and Jason would crack. He too would offer some light hearted expressions of pleasure.-
“Yeah well, in a way I already was. Tell you what, want me to sign that?”
“Nah, it would ruin it. But tell you what. Next time I show up to one of these events, how about have a shirt ready?”
-They would both smirk at each other. The fan would leave and Jason sat there in a bit of a stupor. He had just made his first wrestling related sale. If that person listened to it, cool. If they didn’t, their loss. At the same time,that high didn’t seem to want to go away. Jason would make a couple of more as the night went on, but nothing topped that first one in his head. Maybe he made the right choice.
Jason would stuff the rest of his stock into a duffle bag after noting the time. It was getting late and he was getting tired of waiting around. His table was almost cleared before he noticed a camera crew and called them over with a beckoning arm. After a few minutes of set up they told him film was rolling and he could speak his mind.-
“So here we are. I get a shot at one of the biggest title in professional wrestling history. And I did it after beating the hell out of a guy who was probably anointed as the next big thing. I locked him in those bars of terror and refused to let go. Why? To expose him and to expose this whole industry.
You see, he was a stepping stone. I don’t really give two shits about being some champion. I only care about making that paper. Jason Terrance is a printing press and whatever it takes I’ll show the whole world that isn’t just empty promises. Oh no. Terrance creates moments that go on DVD’s, Blu-rays, get views on youtube. I’m hot and people want more. I know my son was watching and to him, I only got this to say: That’s how much I love you.
-Jason laughs for a second and gets serious once more.-
“But after all that hard work. After all I did to showcase who I am and what I am about, the system tries to set me back. I beat their little challenge. Not only beat, but in convincing fashion. And yet after all that, not only am I number two according to the time keeper, but also there’s going to be yet another person in my quest to feed myself and my kid. Fuck you Callum.
You think you won this round, but I won’t be stopped. Who cares if you send yet another person in my path. I’ll step over them just like I would have done with Dickie. Granted, Dickie is impressive, but he’s no Jason. The whole world knows that-
-Jason in mid-sentence would be approached by an official in association with Project Honor. A slip of paper that detailed his next match. Jason would read it and then crumple the piece of paper. The person who delivered it would already be retreating but that didn’t stop Jason from tossing the slip right at them.-
“This your idea of a sick fucking joke?”
-Jason would slam his hands on the table in front of him nearly cleaving it in half. The frame barely held together.-
“WELL NOW DICK. GUESS WE’RE IN THIS NEXT ONE TOGETHER.
Seems like the powers that be think they are funny. They think we need to get in the same corner. Test us. I don’t like you fam, and I don’t think I ever will. But I need this win too. Not because I want to show dominance, but because I want to keep getting paid. You better be willing to put aside that nice guy persona because I don’t play that shit. You were already a world champion. I instead NEED this. I need to win. Don’t hold me back. If you get in my way I’ll treat you like the rest.
As for our opponents. I could care two shits about them. Myojin, go fuck yourself. Yeah I said it. You aren’t fit to trim my ball hair. And Saint? You couldn’t even supervise. I’m tired of the jokes. I’m tired of the pretenders. Even if you win here I won’t be the one who goes down. Instead I’ll be the one outside of the ring wishing Watson was better. So fuck you, fuck Project Honor, and fuck anyone standing in my way. These paychecks are mine and there’s not a damn thing any of you can do about it.
Please try to prove me wrong. We all know you can’t. Dig into my history that isn’t there. Give me a line or two to chew on for next time. Fact of the matter is, you are all going to topple like the bones in dominoes.”
After all, this was only a few hours after the first ever Proving Grounds. Jason, while tapping his foot on the cement, looking out at the rest of the booth selling through their stock of various bits of wrestling merchandise, would be replaying it in his mind. Not only was he second, but there was going to be another wrinkle. Yet another opponent to tear through. Someone else he felt was standing in his way of truly pulling himself out of the hell that was his life.
Jason got paid right after the event of course. However, in his mind, that could be taken from him at any opportunity. In the back of his mind he hated the idea his son would now have to witness how ruthless of a man he truly was. The lengths he was willing to go to to make sure Jason and his own had theirs. Is that fair to someone so young and innocent? Jason shook his head, He as a child went through worse, but he indeed wanted to be better.
He put his head between his hands for a moment, trying to calm himself down. His anger always got the better of him and he didn’t want to scare away any potential customers. He needed a minute to regain control of himself, because if people saw the way he was tormented, they may ignore him. That was one of his worst fears, being ignored. He didn’t want to risk lashing out at the very society who didn’t care if he lived or died. He just wanted people to hear him.
Yet people weren’t there. Jason was reminded of the sweet little promises Jackson made him. Things like “Wrestlers have a platform” and “If they are good enough they make careers after.” Those hollow words seemed in the moment more like insults. Affronts to who he was trying to be. Yet there was something fun about decimating another person in the ring. These thoughts lingered like a thick fog. Was he only going to be a heavy handed beast?
As if on a divine cue someone steps up to the table. Jason at first doesn’t even notice them. Their eyes scan the different piles as Jason remains covered up. Eventually one of them catches their eye and they pick it up from the stack to give it a once over. Jason hears the plastic slide and sits up. Upon inspection, Jason had determined this was just some random bloke. This person had a Project Honor T-shirt on and wasn’t exactly old, perhaps ten years Jason’s junior, but he couldn’t be sure.
Jason would take note of the case the person picked up though. It was one of his later works. The cover was him standing in front of a horribly beaten down car. The title “Never Forget.” Despite it being the car he owned at the time, that particular piece was full of tracks that spoke about staying grounded. To keep in mind every
Superstar comes from somewhere, and he started with nothing. Jason asks quickly:-
“Why that one fam?”
-The person smirks for a second and then offers back-
“Because I had the same car man.”
-Jason could not keep himself from smiling. Of course you could never know what the song sounded like based on an album cover, or could even guess what the music would be about. Today’s game was totally different than twenty years ago and it would certainly be different in twenty more. The only thread that stays the same is the cover never tells the whole story. Yet Jason respected the brutal honesty this person provided. He even felt like a weight just lifted off his shoulders, despite being sore from earlier in the evening.-
“Mine was a piece no doubt. You into Rap?”
“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons I’m over here. No offense, but you have a lot to work on in the ring, but I figured I’d check what you have going on.”
-Those words were an insult to Jason for whatever reason. He trained for months, he had to use every ounce of cash he had to keep the bills paid. And this person comes along and basically shits on what he put out. Jason’s fists balled but he held his tongue.-
“Thanks homie. I think you’ll like that one.”
“Oh”
“Yeah its about the struggle. It’s about never letting the past go. You start from somewhere and end up elsewhere. But it’s more about the history that got you there.”
-The fan would stand there a second, just staring at what they had in their hand. It was a bit awkward, but eventually they would dig in their pocket. They would bring the wad of cash to their face and count out the bills and lay then on the table.-
“You know if you weren’t a wrestler, you’d probably make a good salesman.”
-The person would chuckle a bit and Jason would crack. He too would offer some light hearted expressions of pleasure.-
“Yeah well, in a way I already was. Tell you what, want me to sign that?”
“Nah, it would ruin it. But tell you what. Next time I show up to one of these events, how about have a shirt ready?”
-They would both smirk at each other. The fan would leave and Jason sat there in a bit of a stupor. He had just made his first wrestling related sale. If that person listened to it, cool. If they didn’t, their loss. At the same time,that high didn’t seem to want to go away. Jason would make a couple of more as the night went on, but nothing topped that first one in his head. Maybe he made the right choice.
Jason would stuff the rest of his stock into a duffle bag after noting the time. It was getting late and he was getting tired of waiting around. His table was almost cleared before he noticed a camera crew and called them over with a beckoning arm. After a few minutes of set up they told him film was rolling and he could speak his mind.-
“So here we are. I get a shot at one of the biggest title in professional wrestling history. And I did it after beating the hell out of a guy who was probably anointed as the next big thing. I locked him in those bars of terror and refused to let go. Why? To expose him and to expose this whole industry.
You see, he was a stepping stone. I don’t really give two shits about being some champion. I only care about making that paper. Jason Terrance is a printing press and whatever it takes I’ll show the whole world that isn’t just empty promises. Oh no. Terrance creates moments that go on DVD’s, Blu-rays, get views on youtube. I’m hot and people want more. I know my son was watching and to him, I only got this to say: That’s how much I love you.
-Jason laughs for a second and gets serious once more.-
“But after all that hard work. After all I did to showcase who I am and what I am about, the system tries to set me back. I beat their little challenge. Not only beat, but in convincing fashion. And yet after all that, not only am I number two according to the time keeper, but also there’s going to be yet another person in my quest to feed myself and my kid. Fuck you Callum.
You think you won this round, but I won’t be stopped. Who cares if you send yet another person in my path. I’ll step over them just like I would have done with Dickie. Granted, Dickie is impressive, but he’s no Jason. The whole world knows that-
-Jason in mid-sentence would be approached by an official in association with Project Honor. A slip of paper that detailed his next match. Jason would read it and then crumple the piece of paper. The person who delivered it would already be retreating but that didn’t stop Jason from tossing the slip right at them.-
“This your idea of a sick fucking joke?”
-Jason would slam his hands on the table in front of him nearly cleaving it in half. The frame barely held together.-
“WELL NOW DICK. GUESS WE’RE IN THIS NEXT ONE TOGETHER.
Seems like the powers that be think they are funny. They think we need to get in the same corner. Test us. I don’t like you fam, and I don’t think I ever will. But I need this win too. Not because I want to show dominance, but because I want to keep getting paid. You better be willing to put aside that nice guy persona because I don’t play that shit. You were already a world champion. I instead NEED this. I need to win. Don’t hold me back. If you get in my way I’ll treat you like the rest.
As for our opponents. I could care two shits about them. Myojin, go fuck yourself. Yeah I said it. You aren’t fit to trim my ball hair. And Saint? You couldn’t even supervise. I’m tired of the jokes. I’m tired of the pretenders. Even if you win here I won’t be the one who goes down. Instead I’ll be the one outside of the ring wishing Watson was better. So fuck you, fuck Project Honor, and fuck anyone standing in my way. These paychecks are mine and there’s not a damn thing any of you can do about it.
Please try to prove me wrong. We all know you can’t. Dig into my history that isn’t there. Give me a line or two to chew on for next time. Fact of the matter is, you are all going to topple like the bones in dominoes.”