Post by Jason Long on Mar 9, 2021 23:46:32 GMT -5
 I'M RUNNING OUTTA TEARDROPS, LET IT HURT 'TIL IT STOPS I CAN'T KEEP MY GRIP, I'M SLIPPING AWAY FROM ME OH, GOD, EVERYTHING IS SO FUCKED, BUT I CAN'T FEEL A THING THE EMPTINESS IS HEAVIER THAN YOU THINK “Respect.” The days have passed since Fallout II -- and with the days drawing nearer and nearer to Fallout III, The King found himself in the beautiful sights of Italy. Rome to be exact. The sun was beginning to set and inside of the five-star hotel room that he shared was the painting of “Respect and Tolerance” made by Raffaele Santalucia, a golden frame wrapped around the said painting. Jason walked into the shot, staring at the painting with a keen eye, dressed to the nines in a black detailed suit- a floral design to his jacket and a white shirt underneath. Taking a deep breath, lowering his head and pinching the bridge of his nose before lifting his head back up and letting out a long sigh. “If you want to be respected, you’ve gotta fight for your life, fight for your life, fight for what you want in life. Respect is earned around here, respect is given where it is needed to be given, and for once in my time here on Fallout--I give nothing more but respect to the person I have to share the ring with.” A small nod as a gesture to his opponent who might or might not be watching right now. It was odd for Jason to begin with this tone, much more odd to have nothing but respect for someone he’s never met nor faced before in the ring, obviously- he saw something in her that nobody might have had. The King slowly turned his head to glance over to the camera that records him, only peeking over his shoulder but still able to see the camera that recorded him from behind. “But before we could begin, I feel like something needs to be addressed. Concerning how I felt after being given the chance to face the Project: Honor Noble Champion once again--that’s you, Kayla. In case you weren’t aware.” Cue that signature smirk of Jason’s as he mentions the name of the Noble Champion herself. “Soak that in, Kayla. You’ve hated with your guts that I beat you when you did nothing more than beat me up, of course, that’s what you say at least. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, sweetheart. I’m sorry that you had to just sob up to your boyfriend and weep like a little bitch.” As usual, The King chuckled. Turning his body around to finally face the camera head on--and what was that draped over his shoulder? The Destiny Wrestling Heavyweight Championship, of course. His championship. His fourth World Championship reign. If you wanted a King, you had to have him wear his crown, and this was his crown. “Tell your redundant and retarded roided bastard of a fiance -- the fuck is his name… Billy Danielson? The fuck kind of name is that? Smart one you got there, Kayla -- you tell him that you need professional help, because what I did in that ring to you was just a warning of what’s to come. If I get my hands on you- no, not if but when I do get my hands on you again at Wired Consequences- you better be praying I actually stop and give pity to the fucking beating you deserve. Believe me, Kayla. I’m all for banter and shit like that, but if you’re gonna be the type of person to bring in love lives and other shit, I won’t tolerate that. I wouldn’t even try to do such a thing. But you did this to yourself. You left yourself open for it, so don’t blame me, you started it and I-- well, I fucking finished it. Tough shit to you, cunt.” Jason’s bemused smirk covered his face as he pulled a chair from out of the shot and into the middle of the shot, The King took his seat, firmly placing himself right down the middle. “Anyway… where was I?” The hand movement with the inclusion of the finger wag gives up the noting that he’s back to where he began, back to focusing on the task at hand. “Yes, Kallie Reznik.” “I won’t lie, I’ve been watching her for quite some time--and to say that I am impressed with her would be an understatement because clearly, she’s got a whole lot of work in her that’s yet to be tapped into but she’s put in more work than half of this roster combined.” Shrugging his shoulders, keeping his demeanor the same, that cocky smile on his face but he kept it there for a reason. To show something, to show Kallie that he’s not all about softening up for fun or to even show respect to her, there’s still that intense side to him still to be seen. “My respect for you, Kallie, it goes a long way- much like how your career here can skyrocket to the moon with the right amount of effort put into this. The thing is Kallie is that you’ve still got a whole lot to learn, and I feel as if your learning curve is not on the right path right now, being sweet and innocent might not be the road for you. You are The Wolfcub after all, a wolf is fierce and ferocious--you are nothing like such.” “I mean that by no disrespect, Kallie. I don’t. But you need to be taught a place here, you need to be taught where you stand right now, because where you think you might stand compared to where you actually stand.” “The thing is with you, Kallie,” an elongated breath exhaled from his nose. “You try to make yourself so unique, so special, trying to make yourself stand out in front of everyone and well… it just doesn’t seem right, because you’re like everyone else around here- making yourself stand out more and failing to do so. I love your attempts, I adore it because what you do in that ring is impressive, but who’s going to take someone seriously when the first Pay Per View for Fallout and you’re sitting there facing some guy to take a stuffed polar bear. A stuffed polar bear… that’s crazy. You deserve so much more, so much more should be given to you, but you’re actually here fighting for a fucking stuffed bear.” Again, pinching his nose to the thought of the match type that someone like Kallie is in right now-- or even set up to be in for Wired Consequences. Leaning down, sighing, before slowly taking his hand away from his face. “And before you even begin… My name is Jason Long, not Maverick, but Jason Long. The guy known as Maverick is dead. The alias known as Maverick is dead. I remember what you said about me back at the Tyrant match, and I’m sure you’ll bring that match up too because ‘ladeeda jason fucked up in this match hurrdeedurr’. Stop before you even speak, don’t even try to open that mouth for the sake of taking a cheap shot. You’re better than that.” Oh, that eye roll. That long fuckin’ eye roll. “Your doubt for me back then kind of made me think of how you truly saw me as- for someone that just said the most decorated wrestler in that match and then change tones to something different, but you saw what happened. It was never about where my head was, or where my heart was, or what mattered more on the night… when I’m here, I keep my head down, I let my thought process focus solely on what the matter at hand was. I always do. I always keep my mind here, and just because I’m in other places doesn’t mean I’m focusing on them when I’m here. You think I got the fucking time for that shit? You think I got the fucking time to worry about other places when here? Bull-fucking-shit.” “I worry about what I want. I don’t need others to tell me what to worry about.” Bringing his index and middle fingers on both hands to the sides of his head--the temple area--beginning to massage it. “But I’m glad you did your research for me, not a lot of people back then did, which made me more impressed with what you do, being so new to the sport. And thanks for bringing up the Clash of The Titans for me, talking about how I made it in the top ten instead of being the winner… you know better than this, Kallie. You can’t win them all. Even a king can take a few losses on the chin, even a few losses can be dealt with, because guess what, I can take a fucking loss like the rest of these bitches who whine and complain and keyboard bash on Twitter for the sake of letting everyone know that they lost their match. Kinda like how Dickie Watson did but kinda not like that? More so something along the lines of John Nash Strader or Bruce MacLeod. That kind of thing, you know?” “I take losses. I make them into gold. Don’t use them against me for the cheap points. It doesn’t make fucking sense to begin with,” the change of tone in his voice was more serious. More gritty. More determined look on his face. “But to you, Kallie. I’m awaiting this fight, whether I win or lose, it won’t matter to me because all that I care about is getting the best fight out of you. I only care about making you bring out the best in you. I want to see The Wolfcub become a full-blown fuckin’ wolf. I want you to be the best of the best there is right now. If I’ve got to be the stepping stone for you then I’ll take that. I will because guess what, Kallie, respect is earned around here- in this sport- in this business. Respect is wellfully earned where it is given.” “But for you, Kallie, you’ve got a long way to go--” Fixing his posture with a smile on his face. “--and I can’t wait to see where you go from here on out. See you soon, Kallie.” The King soon stood up from his seat, walking over to the camera and switching the feed off. There was a lot left to be desired but in his mind, there was so much to be worried about, there was so much he had flowing through his head. Jason knew he had a battle awaiting him with Kallie, which is why he brought out the respect for her, but that wasn’t going to change the fight he was going to bring. He was going to give Kallie the best fight of her life. That’s all that mattered. END. |
