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| Was that meant to scare me?; 012 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 8 2010, 05:22 PM (43 Views) | |
| Mike Harrison | Jul 8 2010, 05:22 PM Post #1 |
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Wrestler
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[align=center]Was that meant to scare me?[/align] It had been a career changing week for Mike Harrison. He had sacked his managers, Bobby Herron and Steve Wujcik, and sacked his trainer C.J. Woods. All three men were utterly pissed off. They all believed they had done Mike proud with their efforts, and the failures were on Mike’s side not theirs. But Mike had told them firmly that their services were no longer needed, and that his whole career would now be organised and managed by his old friend and ally, Troy Trinidad. Unlike his trainers, Troy was a retired superstar wrestler, and someone who Mike knew would get him to the top of the industry he loved. The training had been tiring, but worthwhile. Mike thought C.J.’s routines were hard, but Troy’s were on a different level entirely. He pushed Mike to his boundaries. Troy had told him: when you hit the weights, you must go through your paces and then beyond. There is no point in stopping short. That does no good whatsoever. What makes you bigger and stronger, fitter and more agile, is not doing the bare minimum of what you can lift with no pain. What makes you improve is pushing yourself beyond them, and that is when you see the results. Mike had agreed with Troy’s assessment, and that is the cut down version of his speech, and without any scientific mumble jumble. But he almost regretted it, the pain in his arms and legs was more than he had ever experienced in his life. But hopefully the results would pay off this week with a victory. As he sat on the steel chair in the centre of the ring in the gym, he waved over in our direction and the camera slowly approached. This time there was no interviewer, only the cameraman. Mike needed nothing more to bring his message to the masses, and frankly, he couldn’t wait to give Shredder a piece of his mind. He had to take out his pain on someone, and Shredder appeared to be the perfect candidate. As he was confident that he could beat him in any contest, so he wouldn’t have to swallow his words afterwards. The cameraman stops at the side of the ring and stands up onto the ring apron and focuses on the camera on Mike, and a minute later he begins deciding not to waste any time. Mike Harrison: It appears that I hit a nerve, Shredder. It amuses me greatly at how you think I am stuck up and that you must now use weapons and violence to give yourself some relive, and perhaps, to prove yourself to everyone here. But let me tell you something, if you start going around with weapons and getting yourself disqualified, it will do you no good. And your friend will be forever stuck in prison; then again, he might like the shower treatment. Who am I to judge? A smirk etches across Mike’s face and he stands, walking slowly towards the camera with a confidence in his stride. Mike stops mid stride and holds up a hand dramatically. Mike Harrison: Whoa, Shredder, calm down son... you might give yourself a heart attack! Mike mocks chest pains then realises that he really shouldn’t be doing that, so he smiles awkwardly before turning his attention back to the camera. Mike Harrison: Seriously, Mon frère, I never once called you a coward. Well, I don’t think I did, but I am pretty sure if you re-watch my promo I used the words... whilst you two appear to be, well, a combination of a drunk – i.e. you – and a coward – i.e. Ordici due to his silent nature recently. But I guess that one passed right over your head, right? Mike scoffs at his opponent’s mistake, but refocuses quickly back on the task in hand. Mike Harrison: Oh, that’s right, I am educated up to university level, rich, own my own place, and drive a sports car and have a beautiful wife; so that makes me better than you and everyone else... Mike shakes his head. He had heard Shredder’s arguments before from many other wrestlers and people outside the business. All their argument came down to at the end of the day was jealously. They wanted everything that Mike had – good looks, money, prospects and so on – but they had none of those things, and they hated Mike for it, and they resented him for it. To Mike, this line of thought was quite pathetic, and it was even more pathetic coming from a wrestler who had bold plans for himself. Mike Harrison: Seriously, mate, I am humble just like everyone else. I know where I came from. I know that I am still very broad spoken, and that I won’t find myself at any country parties any time soon. I am not that type of person. And hell, I don’t look down on people per se, but in your case, maybe I did. Maybe I saw your drinking and alcoholism and thought, this guy is a loser and a waste of space. But at the same time, mate, I don’t look down on you as a person, but I look down on you as a wrestler. Think about it, what type of example do you show to the fans? You’re a drunk. You’re a waste of space. You’re this and that and the other. You are everything that the fans do not want to see. You’re no role model, but I am. Not only am I a world class technical and high flying wrestler, but I am also a perfect role model. My success, my achievements, and my standing in this business have all been gained through hard work and dedication. They can learn from me, and they can emulate me. That is why I look down on people like you, because you walk around like the world owes you something, when in fact, it owes you jack shit! Mike glares intensely at the camera and continues his verbal attack. Mike Harrison: People like you, look down at people like me. You think that we all have a chip on our shoulder, and that we all got to where we are right now by being given it on a silver platter. Well you’re wrong, mate. I worked hard to get where I am. I busted my guts for barely twenty quid a night when I first started wrestling. I wrestled in bingo halls and high school gyms. I wrestled in front of maybe a hundred fans tops. I had to work hard to get noticed, and when I did, I took my opportunity with both hands. Not once did I stop fighting for what I believe in, and what I wanted. Not once did my dedication, heart and determination ever waver. So don’t you dare accuse me of anything, because all this comes down to is jealously Shredder, pure and simple! You look at me and see everything that you want, but you can’t have, and you strike out at me. You accuse me of things that I am not. All I said yesterday was facts, and if you don’t like them, I honestly could not care less, because it is not my fault that you are a down and out loser. It is not my fault that you are a waste of space. That is your problem, not mine. It is your problem that you failed to gain an opportunity to get to my level, not mine. Basically, Shredder, you are lucky this week because getting in the ring with me will put the spotlight on you, but you are going to throw that away aren’t you? Mike raises an eyebrow and brushes his blonde hair back behind his ears. Mike Harrison: If you want to play dirty, go right ahead. I won’t stop you. You want to bring your baseball bat; I’ll bring my lead pipe. No wait, I won’t bring a weapon because I won’t need one. You will swing that thing in a drunken rage, miss by miles, and then I will kidney punch you, then I’ll smash by arm down onto your elbow and break your joint. You’ll scream like a girl, drop the bat, and I’ll pick it up and hit you in the stomach, and then I’ll smash you over the back of your head and knock you out. I’ll then drop the bat next to you and walk away, leaving you to the medics. As well, I wouldn’t do that because I want to, but because I can. You see, Shredder, I was right in my assumption about you. You’re a drunk. You’re a waste of space. And you sure as hell are not in my league. Am I looking down on you? Probably. Do I care? Hell no! Mike grins as he steps between the ropes and drops down to the floor. The camera follows him all this time, and Mike turns to say his final words. Mike Harrison: Shredder, I never made this personal, you did. All I said was this week is going to be easy, because you two are not in our league. That is not personal, that is simply facts. You brought violence to the table. You brought your desire to hurt me, to get disqualified. So I dare you to try, but you won’t find any success, as I am simply better than you. That isn’t personal, Shredder, that is simply a fact. But go on, prove me and the world wrong, and show them what you are truly capable of. No, what am I thinking, you won’t even be able to walk straight, let alone think straight. So what did I say wrong, Shredder? You’re a drunk. You’re no role model. And you’re a waste of space. You’re pathetic. I could go down, but I don’t want anything more to fly over your head. As well, I’ll be smashing a foot in head this on Sunday night. Choke on that, sunshine! The smug, cocky, and arrogant smirk once again etches across his lips. He waves mockingly at the camera and walks away, staggering from side to side as if he was drunk. He begins to laugh and turns back towards the camera and shakes his head, before turning back around and leaving the gym as our scene fades to black. |
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8:36 AM Jul 11