Post by Heavy Metal on May 11, 2007 11:21:02 GMT -5
One of the things Jake can’t get his mind around is the attitude shown by some of his contemporaries toward the fans of the business. Whether blasé or openly hostile, it just doesn’t compute, and it has nothing to do with the fact they pay his salary. He has always considered wrestling an art form almost as much as a competitive sport, and an artist who cares not for his audience isn’t really much of an artist at all. And so, the easiest way to find the man called Heavy Metal is to check the side entrance adjacent to the parking lot after a show. Invariably, there are those who linger on the other side of the chain link fence long after an event is over, hoping to catch one last glimpse of anyone they can. In this, the young man is happy to oblige, but even so he still finds their reaction nothing short of overwhelming. After years of working tiny venues for crowds numbering less than a hundred, the level of personal stardom he has achieved in a few short months is nearly beyond his comprehension. To see signs bearing his own name mixed in with the ones for Grimm and Lantlas or t-shirts declaring their wearers ‘Metalheads’ is a more valuable reward than any fight purse.
Intrepid PCW interviewer Glenda Wood has apparently picked up on this fact as well. She closes in with her single cameraman as Jake enjoys being in the spotlight for a few more minutes. The gathered fans spot her before the young man does, and the inevitable response is to raise as much of a ruckus as possible in the hopes of appearing on television. As usual, the woman starts talking even before Jake as turned to face the camera, giving him no chance to refuse the interview. Bloody small chance of that.
“Glenda Wood from outside the PCW arena, where we have just been witness to one of the most shocking turn of events in recent history. The legendary Elven Warrior has voluntarily dropped his World title and put it up for grabs with this man, Heavy Metal, named as one of the contenders. Metal, you are already the number one contender for James Keenan’s North American championship, and now you find yourself in the running for the single greatest prize in wrestling today. Can you tell us your reaction to this startling announcement and your thoughts regarding your qualifying round opponent, the Irish Phoenix Finnegan Burke?”
Already pumped up beyond all recognition, the young man wastes no time in turning the trademark Roth grin on Wood and the camera. “Glenda! You love to find me out in public, don’t you darlin’? Okay, that’s perfectly peachy keen, but if that’s the way you want it, you might as well do it right. Angle that thing right over here…” He motions toward the fans on the other side of the fence. “In fact, to hell with it. Let’s quit screwin' around and go all the way with this…” He turns and jumps up to grab the top of the fence, effortlessly vaulting over it and landing neatly in the midst of the gathered. “There!” he laughs. “The elusive species Heavae Metalus in his natural habitat!” He throws his arms around a cute blonde and her probably boyfriend as the rest push and shove to get in the shot, forcing Jake to raise his voice just to be heard.
“Glenda, what can I say? I’m as surprised as you are by what went down tonight. Before we go any further; Keenan, I want to say congratulations on winning the North American title tonight. You had a long rough ride, and you earned that baby. And while we’re on the subject, congratulations on being the second luckiest man in all of PCW, because your old buddy Heavy Metal had every intention of making your title reign last about a week. But as it turns out we both got more irons in the fire now, so you can go ahead and keep that belt warm a little while longer. I’ll tell the truth, if I get half a chance I’ll walk up to Lantlas and shake his hand, because the move he made tonight took some real class, pun definitely intended.”
Ms. Wood attempts to interject, but the man is already rolling and needs no encouragement. “While we’re on that subject, there’s a second reason I’d like to shake the man’s hand, and that’s for making me the single luckiest man in PCW by hand picking my opponent for next week. And that would be the single unluckiest man, Finnegan Burke. The only downside is I’ve gotta wait 'til Tuesday. I’ve been wanting to have a four-letter word with this guy for awhile, so I’ll quit beating around the bush.” He tilts his head forward, speaking directly to the camera and beyond it, making it perfectly clear whom he is really addressing.
“Burke, let me just recap a little history here in case you’ve forgotten any of it. You beat me by disqualification in the first round of the North American title tournament. Then you blindsided my tag team partner with a lead pipe. Then you busted me upside the head with a shovel. And tonight… well, everybody saw what happened tonight. I guess we can safely say that we’ve met, huh? Well, Burke, I wasn’t kidding when I called you the unluckiest man in all of PCW, because you’ve got yourself in one mother of a mess now. You’re stuck. There’s nobody to come help you, there ain’t gonna be no shovels or pipes, and I got a sneaking suspicion you won’t just be walking out this time around. Nope, you are stuck in the ring with Heavy Metal from start to finish and there’s no place you can go. I want you to take a look at these people here…” He indicates the people around him, drawing another round of raucous hoots and cheers and so making the fire in his voice even more pronounced. “Take a real good look. I got you surrounded, ol’ buddy, and that’s exactly where I want you. And brother, what I’ve got in store for you is going to make a shovel to the head seem like Christmas.”
“And there’s one more reason I can’t wait for Tuesday Trauma, and just because I’m a nice guy I’ll let you in on it. Y’see I’ve already started to hear the grumblings and mumblings around ye olde PCW; The ones that say Heavy Metal doesn’t deserve his number one contendership spot. The ones that say he sure as hell don’t deserve a shot at the PCW World title. Well, by my count there were seven other guys in the North American title tournament,” he says, holding up seven fingers for emphasis. “Tyrone Smith makes one down, so Burke my good ol’ Irish friend, I guess that makes you lucky number two, pun definitely intended. You like to say you take people to their limit, so I got a dare for you. Take me to my limit. Hell, I double dare you to take me to my limit. See, the problem you got on your hands is I don’t think you can even find my limit, let alone take me to it, but baby, I can’t wait to see you try. Your limit, on the other hand, that’s a whole other ball game, pal. I’m not only going to take you to your limit, I’m going to stop just long enough to do an Air Guitar all over it and leave you face down choking on my dust.”
“So, Burke, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; bring everything you got. You’re gonna need it all and then some, ‘cause brother, it’s time to pay the fiddler. And if there’s one thing sick freaks like us know how to do, it’s how to rock and roll all friggin’ night.[/b]”
The grin once again narrows and becomes positively dangerous as he tips a wink into the camera’s eye.
“I’ll be seeing you on Tuesday.”
Intrepid PCW interviewer Glenda Wood has apparently picked up on this fact as well. She closes in with her single cameraman as Jake enjoys being in the spotlight for a few more minutes. The gathered fans spot her before the young man does, and the inevitable response is to raise as much of a ruckus as possible in the hopes of appearing on television. As usual, the woman starts talking even before Jake as turned to face the camera, giving him no chance to refuse the interview. Bloody small chance of that.
“Glenda Wood from outside the PCW arena, where we have just been witness to one of the most shocking turn of events in recent history. The legendary Elven Warrior has voluntarily dropped his World title and put it up for grabs with this man, Heavy Metal, named as one of the contenders. Metal, you are already the number one contender for James Keenan’s North American championship, and now you find yourself in the running for the single greatest prize in wrestling today. Can you tell us your reaction to this startling announcement and your thoughts regarding your qualifying round opponent, the Irish Phoenix Finnegan Burke?”
Already pumped up beyond all recognition, the young man wastes no time in turning the trademark Roth grin on Wood and the camera. “Glenda! You love to find me out in public, don’t you darlin’? Okay, that’s perfectly peachy keen, but if that’s the way you want it, you might as well do it right. Angle that thing right over here…” He motions toward the fans on the other side of the fence. “In fact, to hell with it. Let’s quit screwin' around and go all the way with this…” He turns and jumps up to grab the top of the fence, effortlessly vaulting over it and landing neatly in the midst of the gathered. “There!” he laughs. “The elusive species Heavae Metalus in his natural habitat!” He throws his arms around a cute blonde and her probably boyfriend as the rest push and shove to get in the shot, forcing Jake to raise his voice just to be heard.
“Glenda, what can I say? I’m as surprised as you are by what went down tonight. Before we go any further; Keenan, I want to say congratulations on winning the North American title tonight. You had a long rough ride, and you earned that baby. And while we’re on the subject, congratulations on being the second luckiest man in all of PCW, because your old buddy Heavy Metal had every intention of making your title reign last about a week. But as it turns out we both got more irons in the fire now, so you can go ahead and keep that belt warm a little while longer. I’ll tell the truth, if I get half a chance I’ll walk up to Lantlas and shake his hand, because the move he made tonight took some real class, pun definitely intended.”
Ms. Wood attempts to interject, but the man is already rolling and needs no encouragement. “While we’re on that subject, there’s a second reason I’d like to shake the man’s hand, and that’s for making me the single luckiest man in PCW by hand picking my opponent for next week. And that would be the single unluckiest man, Finnegan Burke. The only downside is I’ve gotta wait 'til Tuesday. I’ve been wanting to have a four-letter word with this guy for awhile, so I’ll quit beating around the bush.” He tilts his head forward, speaking directly to the camera and beyond it, making it perfectly clear whom he is really addressing.
“Burke, let me just recap a little history here in case you’ve forgotten any of it. You beat me by disqualification in the first round of the North American title tournament. Then you blindsided my tag team partner with a lead pipe. Then you busted me upside the head with a shovel. And tonight… well, everybody saw what happened tonight. I guess we can safely say that we’ve met, huh? Well, Burke, I wasn’t kidding when I called you the unluckiest man in all of PCW, because you’ve got yourself in one mother of a mess now. You’re stuck. There’s nobody to come help you, there ain’t gonna be no shovels or pipes, and I got a sneaking suspicion you won’t just be walking out this time around. Nope, you are stuck in the ring with Heavy Metal from start to finish and there’s no place you can go. I want you to take a look at these people here…” He indicates the people around him, drawing another round of raucous hoots and cheers and so making the fire in his voice even more pronounced. “Take a real good look. I got you surrounded, ol’ buddy, and that’s exactly where I want you. And brother, what I’ve got in store for you is going to make a shovel to the head seem like Christmas.”
“And there’s one more reason I can’t wait for Tuesday Trauma, and just because I’m a nice guy I’ll let you in on it. Y’see I’ve already started to hear the grumblings and mumblings around ye olde PCW; The ones that say Heavy Metal doesn’t deserve his number one contendership spot. The ones that say he sure as hell don’t deserve a shot at the PCW World title. Well, by my count there were seven other guys in the North American title tournament,” he says, holding up seven fingers for emphasis. “Tyrone Smith makes one down, so Burke my good ol’ Irish friend, I guess that makes you lucky number two, pun definitely intended. You like to say you take people to their limit, so I got a dare for you. Take me to my limit. Hell, I double dare you to take me to my limit. See, the problem you got on your hands is I don’t think you can even find my limit, let alone take me to it, but baby, I can’t wait to see you try. Your limit, on the other hand, that’s a whole other ball game, pal. I’m not only going to take you to your limit, I’m going to stop just long enough to do an Air Guitar all over it and leave you face down choking on my dust.”
“So, Burke, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; bring everything you got. You’re gonna need it all and then some, ‘cause brother, it’s time to pay the fiddler. And if there’s one thing sick freaks like us know how to do, it’s how to rock and roll all friggin’ night.[/b]”
The grin once again narrows and becomes positively dangerous as he tips a wink into the camera’s eye.
“I’ll be seeing you on Tuesday.”
