Post by Wasp on Jan 29, 2018 23:34:33 GMT -5
He knew he should have stepped in.
He'd beat himself up about it endlessly, that's just what he did. He pounded the table in frustration, knowing just how close Trouble had come on her own. Yet she had asked to do it on her own. She had brushed him off, and come ever so close to a victory of her own accord.
He pushed a stack of papers off his desk, wooden and scuffed, and they scattered all over the floor. How could he choke in such a moment? How could he face the criticisms of his age, of his washed up status, when in the moment he could of made an impact, he choked? The rest of the contents of his scuffed desk went flying onto the floor with a loud crash as well.
This was an anger he hadn't felt in some time, an anger that welled deep inside. He had taken the advice of someone less experienced than him, and in doing that become complicit to their downfall. She had put up a hell of a match, but she had been doomed from the start. Dominator was good at what he did, and Wasp knew that. Hell, everyone in all of PCW knew that and yet he had just stood by, and did nothing to stop the beating Trouble had taken.
He kept a coat rack near by, but it was empty now. He took it up in two hands, grasping the wood tightly before bringing it down upon the ancient desk. Surprisingly strong the desk gave no indication that it had even acknowledged the blow. The coat rack on the other hand, was a cheap mass produced model, and snapped in half with the force Wasp brought upon it. The top half snapped off on the edge of the wooden table before flying backwards, inches away from striking him in the face. He wasn't fazed. The anger felt good, it felt natural.
So ironic it was that they should book him after his greatest failure. They had no idea of course, because when it came down to it no one cared about Wasp as an individual, but things couldn't have worked out more perfectly. He grinned to himself, a thought latching onto his mind and gripping tight. Yes, it couldn't be any more perfect.
The anger was self sastifying now, and not uncontrollable. Maybe he was washed up, old, not in the prime of his career. Yet maybe, just maybe, this enhanced age could be put to good use. Maybe the world had forgotten to factor in his experiences, the time he had been allowed to expand his mind. Or were they still under the illusion High Tide could run things smoothly. Wasp laughed to himself, not caring who was in the building to hear him. Let them think he was crazy, to their demise. Always to their demise.
If only they knew.
A plan was brewing, had been brewing for some time and then perfection in the flesh had showed up. How could he resist such an opportunity to shift the tides of power. A sharp turn that he hadn't even seen coming his newfound wisdom or not. No, chances like this only came once in a lifetime and he wasn't going to be the one to not act on it. No, the world would see, the man they underestimated, all those they didn't have on their radar. Well their technology was about to get a lot better; some big blips were going to be made.
For good measure he took the bottom half of the coat rack that he still held in both hands and drove it forward as if it were a spear, right into the mirror in front of him. His maniacally laughing reflection cracked and shattered like the surface reflecting it. Oh how PCW was not ready, not ready for what he would unleash. High Tide might be the face, but a new age was approaching, a new time for those who wanted to, to step forward and lead. To lead with dignity and never backing down from a challenge. Oh how they had underestimated him for the last time. This time, they wouldn't see it coming.
He liked that. He liked that a lot.
He looked at the destruction he had wrought. He wasn't cleaning it up, let them dock his wages then. There was more to this than a paycheque, more to this than results. Let them stack The Sea Men up against a couple other pairings. It mattered not, because a pair was a pair, but what was a core? He would show them a core, a heart and soul, a man of conviction. They wouldn't even see it coming.
Let Dominator run rampant, let the thief family slyly pull out a victory. It was time to send a message that transcended the ring. That transcended which man could lay the other on their back for three seconds uncontested. It was time to send a message to the whole PCW Universe. It was time to make a sharp turn.
He'd beat himself up about it endlessly, that's just what he did. He pounded the table in frustration, knowing just how close Trouble had come on her own. Yet she had asked to do it on her own. She had brushed him off, and come ever so close to a victory of her own accord.
He pushed a stack of papers off his desk, wooden and scuffed, and they scattered all over the floor. How could he choke in such a moment? How could he face the criticisms of his age, of his washed up status, when in the moment he could of made an impact, he choked? The rest of the contents of his scuffed desk went flying onto the floor with a loud crash as well.
This was an anger he hadn't felt in some time, an anger that welled deep inside. He had taken the advice of someone less experienced than him, and in doing that become complicit to their downfall. She had put up a hell of a match, but she had been doomed from the start. Dominator was good at what he did, and Wasp knew that. Hell, everyone in all of PCW knew that and yet he had just stood by, and did nothing to stop the beating Trouble had taken.
He kept a coat rack near by, but it was empty now. He took it up in two hands, grasping the wood tightly before bringing it down upon the ancient desk. Surprisingly strong the desk gave no indication that it had even acknowledged the blow. The coat rack on the other hand, was a cheap mass produced model, and snapped in half with the force Wasp brought upon it. The top half snapped off on the edge of the wooden table before flying backwards, inches away from striking him in the face. He wasn't fazed. The anger felt good, it felt natural.
So ironic it was that they should book him after his greatest failure. They had no idea of course, because when it came down to it no one cared about Wasp as an individual, but things couldn't have worked out more perfectly. He grinned to himself, a thought latching onto his mind and gripping tight. Yes, it couldn't be any more perfect.
The anger was self sastifying now, and not uncontrollable. Maybe he was washed up, old, not in the prime of his career. Yet maybe, just maybe, this enhanced age could be put to good use. Maybe the world had forgotten to factor in his experiences, the time he had been allowed to expand his mind. Or were they still under the illusion High Tide could run things smoothly. Wasp laughed to himself, not caring who was in the building to hear him. Let them think he was crazy, to their demise. Always to their demise.
If only they knew.
A plan was brewing, had been brewing for some time and then perfection in the flesh had showed up. How could he resist such an opportunity to shift the tides of power. A sharp turn that he hadn't even seen coming his newfound wisdom or not. No, chances like this only came once in a lifetime and he wasn't going to be the one to not act on it. No, the world would see, the man they underestimated, all those they didn't have on their radar. Well their technology was about to get a lot better; some big blips were going to be made.
For good measure he took the bottom half of the coat rack that he still held in both hands and drove it forward as if it were a spear, right into the mirror in front of him. His maniacally laughing reflection cracked and shattered like the surface reflecting it. Oh how PCW was not ready, not ready for what he would unleash. High Tide might be the face, but a new age was approaching, a new time for those who wanted to, to step forward and lead. To lead with dignity and never backing down from a challenge. Oh how they had underestimated him for the last time. This time, they wouldn't see it coming.
He liked that. He liked that a lot.
He looked at the destruction he had wrought. He wasn't cleaning it up, let them dock his wages then. There was more to this than a paycheque, more to this than results. Let them stack The Sea Men up against a couple other pairings. It mattered not, because a pair was a pair, but what was a core? He would show them a core, a heart and soul, a man of conviction. They wouldn't even see it coming.
Let Dominator run rampant, let the thief family slyly pull out a victory. It was time to send a message that transcended the ring. That transcended which man could lay the other on their back for three seconds uncontested. It was time to send a message to the whole PCW Universe. It was time to make a sharp turn.
