| The (Re)Emergence of "British Brutality"; Maverick vs. Webb, Showdown | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 11 2011, 02:59 PM (217 Views) | |
| Sean Maverick | Mar 11 2011, 02:59 PM Post #1 |
|
sVo Champion
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
6th March 2011 A locker room, Goodfellas Casino Arena, Las Vegas After Showdown went off air.. When I was a young boy of about 9 or 10, I used to love football, or soccer as they like to call it in America. I so badly wanted to become a professional footballer and play in the English league one day. It was my dream. But as with everything I did, my alcoholic father was too quick to point out that I was a weak, good for nothing loser who could never make anything out of his life. I remember being shattered at my father’s indifference to his own son’s hopes and dreams. I remember crying myself to sleep that night. I remember wishing he would die. I still wish he would. Self doubt is an affliction deadlier than cancer. My father’s constant and unrelenting abuse had left me with little self belief. I had truly believed, for most of my life, that he was right. I really could do nothing with my life. I would probably end up like him, a drunkard with no job, who proved how much of a man he was by beating up his defenseless wife and child. But when I started fighting, I started believing again. It was as though I had found my calling. When I would take those vicious fists to my face, when my own blood trickled down my cheeks from a cut near my eye, I felt a strange, sickening pang of pleasure. If you asked me why I enjoyed enduring such physical punishment, I would not be able to give you a satisfactory answer. But in my head, I felt like I was being reborn. I remember vividly the look of shock and awe on the faces of my opponents, who would tire themselves out by throwing fist after fist, every one of which I took with a twisted smile on my face. I remember the look of desperation which followed when they realized that no matter how hard they punched, I would not stay down. And I remember, most fondly, the look of horror on each and every one of their faces when they saw me swinging my right arm back to gain leverage, they knew they would not survive that hook. I’ll admit every time before I landed that final punch, I would picture my father standing in front of me. I had proved him wrong. I was worth something. After that my life moved in fast forward mode. Fame and money came to me, hand in hand. I went from fighting bare knuckle in the streets to wrestling in the biggest arenas in front of thousands of fans. I had made it. But then I had to leave it all behind in order to fight a different battle. A battle I knew I would probably end up losing but I also knew I had to try. I did lose. My marriage was over. Brittany left me. She left me with memories of every little moment that I had spent with her which continue to deprive me of sleep at night. And she left me with a strange, unexplainable anger not only towards myself, but also towards the business that is professional wrestling. Wrestling had showered me with fame and money in a very short time but it also stripped me of the one person on this earth who I loved and cherished the most. Call it irony, but here I was back in wrestling. It may sound strange but I feel that if I can to prove to myself that I can be the absolute best in this industry, I could free myself of this burden of guilt which I have been carrying in my chest ever since my marriage fell apart. So when I went out there tonight, to make my debut in the sVo, I was absolutely determined to come out on top. But I could not get the job done. Instead of taking one step forward towards fulfilling my mission, I have taken two steps back. To say that I am disappointed would be a huge understatement. Like I said, self doubt is an affliction deadlier than cancer. And as I sit here tonight, defeated, I can feel all those demons which I thought I had laid to rest, come dancing back into sight. All of a sudden I can hear my father’s mocking laughter fill the room. I feel him staring down at me with a smug smile on his face. I start doubting myself again. Can I really do this? Do I have it in me to start from scratch and make it to the top of the mountain once more? All these questions start circling my mind. I feel suffocated. I tuck a cigarette between my lips and light up. The tobacco works its magic. 8th March 2011 A small bar in Las Vegas, Nevada 10:17 pm Las Vegas is starting to grow on me, slowly but surely. This truly is one city that never sleeps. The casinos are flooded with overly-enthusiastic people, happily pissing off their entire life savings for one night of fun and frolic in Sin City. The people here, mostly tourists, seem to be very friendly, maybe a bit too friendly for my liking. Socializing has never been my strong suit. I can’t remember having too many friends when I was a child, and now here in America, I’m certainly all alone. It’s not that it bothers me too much that I don’t have friends. But with how my life has unfolded over the past year, I would have appreciated having someone to turn to. A friend? Maybe. But then again, I would settle for anyone or anything that would keep my mind off Brittany. At least for a few hours each day. Thankfully for me, bars in Vegas tend to stay open till quite late in the night. So recently I’ve found myself fleeting to this bar, quite near to my flat or apartment as they say in America, and I’ve spent my lonely, sleepless nights with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. If I discount the health hazards from drinking and smoking, this is a significantly better arrangement than just sitting on my bed staring blankly at the wall while my mind wandered off into the past, trying desperately to work out how I could have made my life turn out better. So I find myself sitting in a corner of that same bar tonight. I’m drawn to this place because it is unusually quiet for this city. Ever since I moved to Las Vegas, I’ve found myself trying to catch a break from the over-enthusiastic people who are always in the highest of spirits and the big bright lights which never seem to go out. I’m glad I found this place. I sit there staring into my glass of scotch when I hear someone walking towards my table. I look up to find a man dressed formally in a black suit and a dark blue tie standing right in front of me. He looks like he is in his late forties or early fifties. His hair, turned slightly gray by his years, is styled short and combed neatly to one side. I have to admit he looks immaculate and there is an air of confidence about him which hints that he could well be a powerful man. Or maybe an ordinary man with powerful contacts. He throws me a formal and seemingly well-rehearsed smile. I can tell that he hasn’t walked up to me to engage in the sort of idle conversation which sometimes takes place between two strangers in a bar. No, he has something to say. Something important. Important enough for him to track me down, maybe even follow me to this bar tonight. The man opens his mouth to speak, “Hello Mr. Maverick. May I have a word with you?” I nod, trying to look disinterested but I can’t say that I’m not slightly intrigued by what he has to say. The man pulls out a chair and sits himself down on it. He puts his arms on the table, leans in slightly towards me and starts to speak a bit more softly. “I have a business proposal for you.” I’m surprised. “Business proposal? You are aware that I’m under contract with the sVo, right? Do you represent some other promotion? ‘Cause if that is the case, I should tell you right now that I intend to stay with the sVo at least till my contract runs out. So if that’s what your proposal is, there’s no point in wasting my time and yours.” “Oh, no no. I don’t represent any promotion. There’s something else which I want to discuss with you.” I can feel my eyebrow twitch slightly. What could this man want then? “It’s regarding your match at Showdown this Sunday.” “What about my match?” “Well, I’ve been sent to convince you to make your opponent, Timothy Webb “look good” in your match. You are the professional, you know how it works. Sell his moves well. Take a few hard bumps if you need to. Just make sure Mr. Webb gets a good reaction from the fans. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” I understand perfectly what he’s trying to say. And I have half a mind to punch him right in the face but I manage to restrain myself. He continues to speak, “And of course you will be handsomely rewarded for your efforts. Very handsomely, indeed.” He winks at me. He looks confident that he has made the sale. I fight off the urge to put my fist in his mouth once again. “Well I’ll tell you what, I don’t know who sent you and to be honest I don’t really care. But what I do care about is my career here in the sVo and I, sure as hell, am not going to jeopardize my progress in this company just to make your boy “look good.” Now I hope YOU understand what I’m saying, mate. But just in case you don’t, you can go back to who ever you work for and tell them that they can take their business proposal and shove it up their arse. You got that?” I get up from the table, slip on my jacket and start walking towards the door. The man is left dumbfounded by my words. This had obviously not gone as he had expected. Rich people often tend to think that money can buy them anything. And maybe, to some extent, it can. But my passion is not for sale. Not at any price. My passion to win and to improve and to get to the very top of the proverbial mountain, in this case the sVo World Championship, is the only thing that keeps me going these days. And to think that someone could pay me off to throw it all out the window and make me play second fiddle to that punk, Timothy Webb who can’t wrestle to save his life, is just plain absurd! As I walk down the block, I try to figure out who could have sent that man to see me tonight. Was it Timothy Webb’s father? A man who is obviously very, very rich and wants to see his son make a name for himself in this business, by any means possible. Was it fellow sVo superstar, Achilles Young? I have noticed how Young has recently taken a keen interest in Timothy Webb’s affairs in the sVo. It was clear last week that Achilles Young had played his part in Webb’s victory at Unsanctioned. Had he come out during Webb’s match to distract him and make him lose or was it all planned? Maybe those two are working together. You never know in this business. But there’s one thing I do know, the surprise meeting with the man at the bar was just what I needed to get my head back into the game. This week, I have to do everything I can to make sure that I come out of Showdown with a win under my belt. I can see right through Timothy. He’s a spoilt rich kid who was Daddy’s little star in some obscure backyard promotion. His wrestling skills are weak, his will to win is weaker. All he cares about is the fame and fortune that comes with the joyride that is professional wrestling. His debut match was an easy one, luckily for him. He beat a woman after all. And that too, not without breaking much sweat and almost breaking his own neck. I know I’m not the most gifted wrestler myself, but my hunger for success more than makes up for it. And above all else, I sure as hell can fight! So come Sunday, I will be bringing everything I’ve got it, I’m sure Timothy Webb will be bringing….well something at least. Right now my personal life and all the shit I’ve been through recently can take a backseat, there’s no way that I’m going to come out of Showdown with another defeat to my name. Timothy Webb better be ready, ‘cause he is about to be struck down by an oh-so-deadly dose of “British Brutality!” -FIN- Edited by Sean Maverick, Mar 11 2011, 03:23 PM.
|
sVo Record : 6-2-01x sVo Tap Out Champion (Current)1x sVo Red&Black Champion (Current)1x Show MVP (UnSanctioned #20)MVP : Reaper's Tombstone Mafia Game
| |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · sVo Showdown RP Archive · Next Topic » |








![]](http://imageshack.us/a/img688/1050/pipend.jpg)





2:31 PM Jul 11