What we've got here is failure to communicate.
Aug 20, 2015 18:46:47 GMT -5
Judge and The Anarchist like this
Post by Sadistic on Aug 20, 2015 18:46:47 GMT -5
Return to Glory? For the Black Hand, glory had become something of the status quo over the past year. Sure, there were a few speedbumps at PCW's summer pay-per-view spectacular, but at the end of the night it was the Black Hand still standing aop the Pure Class pecking order.
Unfortunately, Michael Wryght lost a close match to Eira allowing the North American Championship to fall into the evil clutches of the Order...and with Showtime on the cusp of his presidential campaign to boot! And the Black Hand may have also lost the services of Kelli Starr and her half of the tag titles after an erroneous right hand from Phinehas Grimm. However, after she allowed the International Championship to fall into the possession of the Order's newest recruit, Non Compos Mentis, perhaps a break between Miss Starr and the Hand isn't such a bad idea.
On the bright side, Wryght put on an amazing performance and is STILL going to be the next President of the United States. Grimm beat that worn out has-been, LoKi, into retirement and buried his career in true Black Hand fashion. Wonder if LoKi knowed that was gunna happen? Nothing wrong with a man whistling and taking pride in his work. And the biggest coup of them all...Justin “Stormm” Michaels joining the ranks of the Hand. Whether they saw it coming or not, fan and wrestler alike were infuriated by the Force of Nature's heroic comeback during the match and the subsequent middle finger to PCW that followed. To top the night off, “The Phenom” Billy Sadistic outlasted Gem – once again – to retain the PCW World Championship, despite having his arch nemesis refereeing the bout. Another month goes by with Pure Class Wrestling's crown jewel proudly represented by the Black Hand.
It is William Dillinger. It is the One That Knocks. He stands presentably at the front stoop of an elegant Brick, New Jersey home, his oft messy mane pulled back into a half ponytail. Clutched between his recently manicured fingers is a quasi-expensive box of delicious chocolates. As William hears the footsteps approaching from inside, his slightly groomed beard blossoms into a toothy, beaming smile.
The door swings open to reveal one Michael Wryght, trimmed, prim, and proper, in the midst of pulling on his charcoal pinstripe suit jacket. The look on Showtime's clean-shaven face can only be described as disappointment. There is an awkward moment between the two before William breaks the silence with a peace offering.
Presenting the box of sweets to his best good buddy, William says in a very deliberate tone, ”I brought you some chocolate...” Arching an eyebrow, Michael curiously cracks the box before shooting a disbelieving glance at William. “...I ate some.”
Without even so much as an invite, Showtime buttons his jacket, turns on his heel, and heads off down the hallway. Pausing at a mirror in the corridor, Wryght begins fidgeting with his blue and red (and patriotic) neck tie. “I shall double my efforts,” William mutters under his breath as he follows after Showtime, closing the door behind him.
“Have you come to discuss Gem and Rhodes?”
“Rhodes?” ponders William. “Where we're going, we don't need roads!” He looks at Michael expectantly with a goofy grin on his face. Dillinger receives a look of Annoyance for his troubles.
“They'll be tough to beat. Mentis is never a walk in the park, and you haven't exactly had Gem's number,” Showtime sneers accusingly.
The look of hurt in William's eyes is gone in a flash as he stands beside Michael in the mirror. Michael, the taller, broader, and more handsome of the two, pulls out his smart phone and swipes a finger across the face of it. Billy's eyes light up.
Looking around at nobody in particular, William bellows, ”Where does he get those wonderful toys?”
Michael looks at him from the corner of his eye before sliding the phone back into the jacket's inside pocket. Continuing down the hall, Michael enters his den and takes a seat at the bar. William bellies up beside him. Digging for another famous movie quote, Sadistic wraps his arms around his buddy in a moment of inspiration. “I wish I knew how to quit you!”
Frustration turns to irritation as Showtime forcefully pushes William away from him. “Get off me,” Showtime hisses while still grasping two handfuls of Billy's shirt.
William looks down at Michael's hands before coolly staring right back into his buddy's eyes. “Take your stinking paws off me you damn dirty ape,” orders Billy through gritted teeth.
“Enough!” Showtime throws his hands in the air and turns his back on his longtime friend.
William finally breaks down. “C'mon, man,” drawls the Hangtown native. “I'm trying my best to cheer you up here!”
“Cheering up?” Showtime's brow furrows. “You think cheering up is what I need? No... A win at Return to Glory would have been nice. My best friend having my BACK would have been nice! Hell, having the North American Championship around my waist during my presidential campaign...THAT would have been nice!!! But I'm glad you managed to look out for yourself...”
Sadistic is at a loss. Michael's words cut him four different ways: Long, deep, wide, and continuously. “I...I did what I had to do.”
“Of course you did. Ever since we unified for the Black Hand, I've done nothing but sacrifice for you. For the Black Hand. With a smile on my face. Because I'm a team player. I get it. But when it's time for you to do your part, all you can think about is yourself.”
William's face is red with fury as he grabs Showtime by the shoulder and spins him around! “Mike, this isn't about you! This isn't about me! It's not about Grimm or Ruth or Stormm. It's about the Black Hand! One group. One vision. The fact that I hold the title is irrelevant. The symbol of excellence that is the PCW World Championship belongs to the Black Hand. To promote the betterment of mankind! Just like when you are elected President of the United States...”
“You screwed me out of the belt.” Michael's words so quiet they're nearly inaudible.
“I didn't screw you. I called it right down the middle, and she beat you fair and square.”
Wryght's hands ball into fists, but he wisely takes a deep breath before he does something he'll regret. Straightening his tie, he brushes past Sadistic. “If you'll excuse me, I'm late for a public appearance.”
Just like that, Showtime is out the front door and Sadistic is left looking at air. William strolls into the hallway and gazes into the mirror(mirror) on the wall. His calm, dead expression cracks with a smirk. Just when he thought he'd rid himself of that little thorn, Gem, she's somehow managed to wiggle her way into the same ring as Sadistic yet again.
Pointing at the mirror, his cackle echoes through the Wryght Residence. “I'll get you, my pretty. And your little dog, too!”
Unfortunately, Michael Wryght lost a close match to Eira allowing the North American Championship to fall into the evil clutches of the Order...and with Showtime on the cusp of his presidential campaign to boot! And the Black Hand may have also lost the services of Kelli Starr and her half of the tag titles after an erroneous right hand from Phinehas Grimm. However, after she allowed the International Championship to fall into the possession of the Order's newest recruit, Non Compos Mentis, perhaps a break between Miss Starr and the Hand isn't such a bad idea.
On the bright side, Wryght put on an amazing performance and is STILL going to be the next President of the United States. Grimm beat that worn out has-been, LoKi, into retirement and buried his career in true Black Hand fashion. Wonder if LoKi knowed that was gunna happen? Nothing wrong with a man whistling and taking pride in his work. And the biggest coup of them all...Justin “Stormm” Michaels joining the ranks of the Hand. Whether they saw it coming or not, fan and wrestler alike were infuriated by the Force of Nature's heroic comeback during the match and the subsequent middle finger to PCW that followed. To top the night off, “The Phenom” Billy Sadistic outlasted Gem – once again – to retain the PCW World Championship, despite having his arch nemesis refereeing the bout. Another month goes by with Pure Class Wrestling's crown jewel proudly represented by the Black Hand.
* * *
*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*
It is William Dillinger. It is the One That Knocks. He stands presentably at the front stoop of an elegant Brick, New Jersey home, his oft messy mane pulled back into a half ponytail. Clutched between his recently manicured fingers is a quasi-expensive box of delicious chocolates. As William hears the footsteps approaching from inside, his slightly groomed beard blossoms into a toothy, beaming smile.
The door swings open to reveal one Michael Wryght, trimmed, prim, and proper, in the midst of pulling on his charcoal pinstripe suit jacket. The look on Showtime's clean-shaven face can only be described as disappointment. There is an awkward moment between the two before William breaks the silence with a peace offering.
Presenting the box of sweets to his best good buddy, William says in a very deliberate tone, ”I brought you some chocolate...” Arching an eyebrow, Michael curiously cracks the box before shooting a disbelieving glance at William. “...I ate some.”
Without even so much as an invite, Showtime buttons his jacket, turns on his heel, and heads off down the hallway. Pausing at a mirror in the corridor, Wryght begins fidgeting with his blue and red (and patriotic) neck tie. “I shall double my efforts,” William mutters under his breath as he follows after Showtime, closing the door behind him.
“Have you come to discuss Gem and Rhodes?”
“Rhodes?” ponders William. “Where we're going, we don't need roads!” He looks at Michael expectantly with a goofy grin on his face. Dillinger receives a look of Annoyance for his troubles.
“They'll be tough to beat. Mentis is never a walk in the park, and you haven't exactly had Gem's number,” Showtime sneers accusingly.
The look of hurt in William's eyes is gone in a flash as he stands beside Michael in the mirror. Michael, the taller, broader, and more handsome of the two, pulls out his smart phone and swipes a finger across the face of it. Billy's eyes light up.
Looking around at nobody in particular, William bellows, ”Where does he get those wonderful toys?”
Michael looks at him from the corner of his eye before sliding the phone back into the jacket's inside pocket. Continuing down the hall, Michael enters his den and takes a seat at the bar. William bellies up beside him. Digging for another famous movie quote, Sadistic wraps his arms around his buddy in a moment of inspiration. “I wish I knew how to quit you!”
Frustration turns to irritation as Showtime forcefully pushes William away from him. “Get off me,” Showtime hisses while still grasping two handfuls of Billy's shirt.
William looks down at Michael's hands before coolly staring right back into his buddy's eyes. “Take your stinking paws off me you damn dirty ape,” orders Billy through gritted teeth.
“Enough!” Showtime throws his hands in the air and turns his back on his longtime friend.
William finally breaks down. “C'mon, man,” drawls the Hangtown native. “I'm trying my best to cheer you up here!”
“Cheering up?” Showtime's brow furrows. “You think cheering up is what I need? No... A win at Return to Glory would have been nice. My best friend having my BACK would have been nice! Hell, having the North American Championship around my waist during my presidential campaign...THAT would have been nice!!! But I'm glad you managed to look out for yourself...”
Sadistic is at a loss. Michael's words cut him four different ways: Long, deep, wide, and continuously. “I...I did what I had to do.”
“Of course you did. Ever since we unified for the Black Hand, I've done nothing but sacrifice for you. For the Black Hand. With a smile on my face. Because I'm a team player. I get it. But when it's time for you to do your part, all you can think about is yourself.”
William's face is red with fury as he grabs Showtime by the shoulder and spins him around! “Mike, this isn't about you! This isn't about me! It's not about Grimm or Ruth or Stormm. It's about the Black Hand! One group. One vision. The fact that I hold the title is irrelevant. The symbol of excellence that is the PCW World Championship belongs to the Black Hand. To promote the betterment of mankind! Just like when you are elected President of the United States...”
“You screwed me out of the belt.” Michael's words so quiet they're nearly inaudible.
“I didn't screw you. I called it right down the middle, and she beat you fair and square.”
Wryght's hands ball into fists, but he wisely takes a deep breath before he does something he'll regret. Straightening his tie, he brushes past Sadistic. “If you'll excuse me, I'm late for a public appearance.”
Just like that, Showtime is out the front door and Sadistic is left looking at air. William strolls into the hallway and gazes into the mirror(mirror) on the wall. His calm, dead expression cracks with a smirk. Just when he thought he'd rid himself of that little thorn, Gem, she's somehow managed to wiggle her way into the same ring as Sadistic yet again.
Pointing at the mirror, his cackle echoes through the Wryght Residence. “I'll get you, my pretty. And your little dog, too!”
