Post by Lady Munin on Apr 8, 2016 5:46:40 GMT
An indigo screen plays “Pure Morning” as the scene resolves to that of Johnny Raike's garage studio. Just a few days after St. Patricks day and the American Wet Dream still looks a little worse for the wear, the scrapes on his face and chest still visable. Johnny is dressed in his usual gear, hands in his coat pockets as he welcomes his fans with a smile.
Johnny: “You know, Mark Storm I have to say this for you. I have to think a little bit harder about what I want to say to you than I do the average opponent. I know you're good. I was lurking in the background of EWC a bit before you won the title there, I've seen it from behind the curtains plenty of times. I hope you've seen what I can do. And not just against a man in a sheep costume, though I will cite that last match as a pretty damn good indicator of what I do when I'm good and motivated. And while I might not be motivated by revenge when it comes to fighting you, I can allow myself to take umbrage at how you handled that victory.”
Johnny: “'Cause you see, Mark, I don't see how you can get on Twitter the day after that battle royal and tell everyone that Japan wasn't prepared for you. Dude, the last two guys in the ring with you got beat up and eliminated by William Wallace, I don't think you can at all defend the thesis that you're what I wasn't ready for. Yeah, you started the match. Yeah, you were the last one standing, and you certainly got yourself into that position. This isn't to say that you aren't the champion, or that you're undeserving. But, in a very real way, you are not my champion. Alex Redd could say the same, while we're at it. Don't think he will, but it's a legit point. But this isn't some massively multiplayer battle to shake out the initial rankings. This is going to just be the two of us going to war, and watch and see if the story doesn't play out juuuuust a little different.”
The Panty Wearing Panty Dropper holds his thumb and forefinger close together to emphasize his point.
Johnny: “You talked a lot before about all the people who wouldn't beat you. I was one of them. And you are correct in the end. I didn't beat you. But Mark, do you really think you beat me? Whether or not you believe yourself an uncontested champion, do you really think you have one over me? My guess is the hell if I know. Yours is a head I think I'd rather not poke around in too much. I like my world of bright colors and happiness. No use immersing myself in the Stygian blackness of your tortured little mind, all full of paranoia and . Hey, I'm not judging. We all have our demons. Mine mostly have to do with the bedroom habits, which I don't believe you'd be interested in. Though if I'm wrong, please, let me know.”
The Beautiful Nightmare gives an exaggerated wink to the camera.
Johnny: “Mark, you were every ounce of right when you said that this would be a match to blow the roof down. Which seems dangerous and I counter proposal that we blow the roof off. Seems to lessen the potential for falling debris. Anyway. Storm, I have no doubt we'll take each other to the limit, but I have been chasing gold in Warped since day one and what you need to understand is done are the days when it all just slips through my fingers. Done are the days when I have to go around and tell everyone how there were mitigating circumstances. You know how much that sucks? When you legitimately have cause for chagrin, but at the end of the day, you still don't get the belt? How you cement as fact your status as number one contender to the WARPED Championship, but the company closes before you could get that match. How a Scotsman with just the worst facial hair ever keeps getting his fat ass all up in your business. And now how I have to try and find a way to tell the world that you haven't beaten me in a way that doesn't make me sound like a disrespectful crybaby whining about things he couldn't get done. It's not the easiest thing in the world. And I'd rather not do it anymore.”
A slight sigh and roll of the eyes from a Johnny Raike who is so very over his situation. He bounces back quickly, big, bright smile returning to his face as he continues to gab.
Johnny: “And this is definitely my chance to shine. To show off my skills against a very well recognized face in wrestling, the championship winning Mark Storm. You seem to have more of a North American Junior Heavyweight style to you, I draw a lot from German catch. And, you know, the whole kicking the shit out of people thing. I've got these amazing dancers legs, I might as well use them.”
The Hedonistic Hellcat falls into a split and back so fast he seems to ricochet off the floor of his garage.
Johnny: “I'm not going to tell you you've never seen a wrestler like me before. Being a man of a...well, I don't know about a thousand holds but I'd say at least high five-hundreds, and impressive as that is, I'm hardly out in a class of my own with that. Toward the top of the class, sure, but I'm not going to surprise you with my style. No, I'll have to out think you, surprise you not with what I do, but with how I do it. Catch you just when you think you have the upper hand and finally silence that little voice of doubt in my ear. Strike the places you aren't protecting, exploit any crack in your defenses and then tear you open like a damn oyster. If I can't do shit you've never seen before, then I'll just have to be so damn good it doesn't matter what you see coming. And I can do that, rest assured. I don't think there's too many people out there in the wrestling world that think I'm an easy target. People are learning day by day just how vicious I can be. Just why I'm called the Brutiful One. And now, they're going to see me win.”
Raike lights up a cigarette and takes a big puff, using the lit cigarette as a pointer to underscore his speech.
Johnny: “So far in WARPED, I've been apart of technicalities. I technically lost to you, Mark. I technically beat Willy Wallace. I think I looked fucking amazing doing both of those things, but what good is being hard to beat if I can't close the deal? I'm not getting into a self confidence issue, at least I don't think so, it's more of a rhetorical question. I'm really, really good at getting back up off the mat. I am great at getting my shoulder up just enough at the last second. My ring awareness is par excellence. I stay in the fight so much longer than you'll think I can. But now it's time for me to show that not only can I be in the game, I can win it!”
Johnny gestures with his cigarette hard enough to send ash falling off the tip, before he calms himself again and takes a soothing drag.
Johnny: “I doubt you're sleeping on me, Mark. You're too good at your job to be writing me off. I'm certainly affording your talent all of the respect it rightly deserves. But know this, I will be ready for you. And if you tear through me, if you come in and show the world that, really, I'm not ready for you, I'm not prepared for you, you get in there and really demostrate to the world that you are unquestionably the best Junior Heavyweight in WARPED, and I will march out into that ring on show ninety-eight, and I will say in front of the entire world and WARPED wrestling that you are without question my Junior Heavyweight champion. But as of this exact moment, I have a question. And I'm betting real hard you don't have an answer.”
A shaking of the head from the Thigh-High Thriller
Johnny: “Which in a way that you probably have to be me to understand, brings me back to my original bit of displeasure with you, Mark. That bit where you started bragging on twitter as though you really think you earned that belt. Not a lot, no one's accusing you of full on hubris, but it's there. You'll make a fine answer to a trivia question one day, Mark. There's even a little part of me that's going to feel guilty about making your tenure as champion very short. I'm not trying to be cute there, really, it seems almost cruel to have let you have it at all. No one wants a held up championship on opening night, we all get that, but I think we also all get that this isn't so much a title defense as it is the true title crowning. An addressing of the obvious question, if you will.”
Johnny plays with his hair as he takes a deep breath, before continuing to talk.
Johnny: “I am the hardest test you'll face to keep that belt, Mark. I'm not main eventing for a third time in a row as some sort of accident. There is some great talent in our ranks to be sure, but none of them can have the fire I have to capture WARPED gold. None of them have had to struggle as I have. I'm not saying anyone's path to the top is easy. I'm just saying I know the resolve mine has steeled in me. I need to be standing at the top of the hill, not because I want to look down on anyone, but because the view from up high is so beautiful.”
The Idol of Idolatry closes his eyes and leans his had back, imagining the feeling of his victory. He takes a long and slow, almost sensual, drag off his cigarette
Johnny: “Maybe it's not the healthiest need to indulge. Maybe it'll lead me to ruin, or I'll look back in twenty years and say how hollow it all was. I don't know. I'm neither psychic or a psychoanalyst. What I do know is that so far that need to stand at the apex has brought me more success in this world than failure, more days on the up than the down. And while needing to be at the top makes everything else feel just a little bitter in your mouth, striving for excellence is always worth it. We can't all be on top. Not in wrestling, or out in the great wide world. Get the right partner and you can swing always being on top in bed. They're called power bottoms. Look it up. But, uh, turn safe search off and make sure mom and dad aren't looking over your shoulder, okay boys and girls? Great. No, we can't always be the ones with the greatest view, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't all keeping pushing for it.”
Johnny: “So I'm doing what I need to do. The tapes, the exercise, you know how this career works. And I'm letting this fire of need, this yearning desire that is so hard to contain and so often threatens to spill over and ruin all of my work...I'm letting it grow. Because I need to know that if you beat me it's when I left everything on the line, gave you every drop of sweat, every ounce of blood in my body. It's the only way I'll be able to sleep at night. I have to know I can do this, and so do you, Mark Storm. You need to know this too.”
Johnny gets quite for a moment, looking off camera to his left. When he talks again the Thigh-High Thriller is much more subdued than usual.
Johnny: “And you know what, Mark? So much of this isn't even about you. It's not about a bit of self promotion you did that got under my skin, it's not about you being crowned champion under such odd circumstances, and for all that I'd love to add Mark Storm to the list of answers of who the fuck did I ever beat, you could be anyone as far as this next match is concerned. I've been chasing destiny for a year now, working to make all the right opportunities fall into place, all I need is that one chance, that one time where nothing goes crazy. All I need is one real opportunity; just a ring, a ref and one fall. I know I can do this, I know I have to. And I'll use ever piece of motivation I can find or invent or misconstrue. Anything to give me just that bit more of an edge. But on March Twenty-Fifth, two days after I turn thirty-two, I'll be fighting for me, for my destiny, for all the people who know the pain of getting your dream in sight only to have it slip through your fingers. Not this time. Not this night. This is something I can't live without doing, and I won't.”
Raike's face slides from serious to relaxed, a self-satisfied smile on his pretty face.
Johnny: “I'll leave you on this note, a little happier than the rest of today’s little journey. We'll be leaving that arena having really struck a blow for Junior Heavyweights. We'll be leaving with our heads held high, as best we can through the pain and the beatings, knowing that no one who sees that match with ever forget one second of it, knowing that we have seared it into the memories of every man, women, and questionably parented child who sees us live. We will be the foundation from which this Junior Heavyweight belt gains the prestige it deserves. And I'll be the one to carry it forward. See you soon, sweetie. See you soon.”
A big, bright-eyed smile and finger wave from The Party Queen of Queens as the screen transitions back to indigo on it's way to the Raike in the Cash logo.
Johnny: “You know, Mark Storm I have to say this for you. I have to think a little bit harder about what I want to say to you than I do the average opponent. I know you're good. I was lurking in the background of EWC a bit before you won the title there, I've seen it from behind the curtains plenty of times. I hope you've seen what I can do. And not just against a man in a sheep costume, though I will cite that last match as a pretty damn good indicator of what I do when I'm good and motivated. And while I might not be motivated by revenge when it comes to fighting you, I can allow myself to take umbrage at how you handled that victory.”
Johnny: “'Cause you see, Mark, I don't see how you can get on Twitter the day after that battle royal and tell everyone that Japan wasn't prepared for you. Dude, the last two guys in the ring with you got beat up and eliminated by William Wallace, I don't think you can at all defend the thesis that you're what I wasn't ready for. Yeah, you started the match. Yeah, you were the last one standing, and you certainly got yourself into that position. This isn't to say that you aren't the champion, or that you're undeserving. But, in a very real way, you are not my champion. Alex Redd could say the same, while we're at it. Don't think he will, but it's a legit point. But this isn't some massively multiplayer battle to shake out the initial rankings. This is going to just be the two of us going to war, and watch and see if the story doesn't play out juuuuust a little different.”
The Panty Wearing Panty Dropper holds his thumb and forefinger close together to emphasize his point.
Johnny: “You talked a lot before about all the people who wouldn't beat you. I was one of them. And you are correct in the end. I didn't beat you. But Mark, do you really think you beat me? Whether or not you believe yourself an uncontested champion, do you really think you have one over me? My guess is the hell if I know. Yours is a head I think I'd rather not poke around in too much. I like my world of bright colors and happiness. No use immersing myself in the Stygian blackness of your tortured little mind, all full of paranoia and . Hey, I'm not judging. We all have our demons. Mine mostly have to do with the bedroom habits, which I don't believe you'd be interested in. Though if I'm wrong, please, let me know.”
The Beautiful Nightmare gives an exaggerated wink to the camera.
Johnny: “Mark, you were every ounce of right when you said that this would be a match to blow the roof down. Which seems dangerous and I counter proposal that we blow the roof off. Seems to lessen the potential for falling debris. Anyway. Storm, I have no doubt we'll take each other to the limit, but I have been chasing gold in Warped since day one and what you need to understand is done are the days when it all just slips through my fingers. Done are the days when I have to go around and tell everyone how there were mitigating circumstances. You know how much that sucks? When you legitimately have cause for chagrin, but at the end of the day, you still don't get the belt? How you cement as fact your status as number one contender to the WARPED Championship, but the company closes before you could get that match. How a Scotsman with just the worst facial hair ever keeps getting his fat ass all up in your business. And now how I have to try and find a way to tell the world that you haven't beaten me in a way that doesn't make me sound like a disrespectful crybaby whining about things he couldn't get done. It's not the easiest thing in the world. And I'd rather not do it anymore.”
A slight sigh and roll of the eyes from a Johnny Raike who is so very over his situation. He bounces back quickly, big, bright smile returning to his face as he continues to gab.
Johnny: “And this is definitely my chance to shine. To show off my skills against a very well recognized face in wrestling, the championship winning Mark Storm. You seem to have more of a North American Junior Heavyweight style to you, I draw a lot from German catch. And, you know, the whole kicking the shit out of people thing. I've got these amazing dancers legs, I might as well use them.”
The Hedonistic Hellcat falls into a split and back so fast he seems to ricochet off the floor of his garage.
Johnny: “I'm not going to tell you you've never seen a wrestler like me before. Being a man of a...well, I don't know about a thousand holds but I'd say at least high five-hundreds, and impressive as that is, I'm hardly out in a class of my own with that. Toward the top of the class, sure, but I'm not going to surprise you with my style. No, I'll have to out think you, surprise you not with what I do, but with how I do it. Catch you just when you think you have the upper hand and finally silence that little voice of doubt in my ear. Strike the places you aren't protecting, exploit any crack in your defenses and then tear you open like a damn oyster. If I can't do shit you've never seen before, then I'll just have to be so damn good it doesn't matter what you see coming. And I can do that, rest assured. I don't think there's too many people out there in the wrestling world that think I'm an easy target. People are learning day by day just how vicious I can be. Just why I'm called the Brutiful One. And now, they're going to see me win.”
Raike lights up a cigarette and takes a big puff, using the lit cigarette as a pointer to underscore his speech.
Johnny: “So far in WARPED, I've been apart of technicalities. I technically lost to you, Mark. I technically beat Willy Wallace. I think I looked fucking amazing doing both of those things, but what good is being hard to beat if I can't close the deal? I'm not getting into a self confidence issue, at least I don't think so, it's more of a rhetorical question. I'm really, really good at getting back up off the mat. I am great at getting my shoulder up just enough at the last second. My ring awareness is par excellence. I stay in the fight so much longer than you'll think I can. But now it's time for me to show that not only can I be in the game, I can win it!”
Johnny gestures with his cigarette hard enough to send ash falling off the tip, before he calms himself again and takes a soothing drag.
Johnny: “I doubt you're sleeping on me, Mark. You're too good at your job to be writing me off. I'm certainly affording your talent all of the respect it rightly deserves. But know this, I will be ready for you. And if you tear through me, if you come in and show the world that, really, I'm not ready for you, I'm not prepared for you, you get in there and really demostrate to the world that you are unquestionably the best Junior Heavyweight in WARPED, and I will march out into that ring on show ninety-eight, and I will say in front of the entire world and WARPED wrestling that you are without question my Junior Heavyweight champion. But as of this exact moment, I have a question. And I'm betting real hard you don't have an answer.”
A shaking of the head from the Thigh-High Thriller
Johnny: “Which in a way that you probably have to be me to understand, brings me back to my original bit of displeasure with you, Mark. That bit where you started bragging on twitter as though you really think you earned that belt. Not a lot, no one's accusing you of full on hubris, but it's there. You'll make a fine answer to a trivia question one day, Mark. There's even a little part of me that's going to feel guilty about making your tenure as champion very short. I'm not trying to be cute there, really, it seems almost cruel to have let you have it at all. No one wants a held up championship on opening night, we all get that, but I think we also all get that this isn't so much a title defense as it is the true title crowning. An addressing of the obvious question, if you will.”
Johnny plays with his hair as he takes a deep breath, before continuing to talk.
Johnny: “I am the hardest test you'll face to keep that belt, Mark. I'm not main eventing for a third time in a row as some sort of accident. There is some great talent in our ranks to be sure, but none of them can have the fire I have to capture WARPED gold. None of them have had to struggle as I have. I'm not saying anyone's path to the top is easy. I'm just saying I know the resolve mine has steeled in me. I need to be standing at the top of the hill, not because I want to look down on anyone, but because the view from up high is so beautiful.”
The Idol of Idolatry closes his eyes and leans his had back, imagining the feeling of his victory. He takes a long and slow, almost sensual, drag off his cigarette
Johnny: “Maybe it's not the healthiest need to indulge. Maybe it'll lead me to ruin, or I'll look back in twenty years and say how hollow it all was. I don't know. I'm neither psychic or a psychoanalyst. What I do know is that so far that need to stand at the apex has brought me more success in this world than failure, more days on the up than the down. And while needing to be at the top makes everything else feel just a little bitter in your mouth, striving for excellence is always worth it. We can't all be on top. Not in wrestling, or out in the great wide world. Get the right partner and you can swing always being on top in bed. They're called power bottoms. Look it up. But, uh, turn safe search off and make sure mom and dad aren't looking over your shoulder, okay boys and girls? Great. No, we can't always be the ones with the greatest view, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't all keeping pushing for it.”
Johnny: “So I'm doing what I need to do. The tapes, the exercise, you know how this career works. And I'm letting this fire of need, this yearning desire that is so hard to contain and so often threatens to spill over and ruin all of my work...I'm letting it grow. Because I need to know that if you beat me it's when I left everything on the line, gave you every drop of sweat, every ounce of blood in my body. It's the only way I'll be able to sleep at night. I have to know I can do this, and so do you, Mark Storm. You need to know this too.”
Johnny gets quite for a moment, looking off camera to his left. When he talks again the Thigh-High Thriller is much more subdued than usual.
Johnny: “And you know what, Mark? So much of this isn't even about you. It's not about a bit of self promotion you did that got under my skin, it's not about you being crowned champion under such odd circumstances, and for all that I'd love to add Mark Storm to the list of answers of who the fuck did I ever beat, you could be anyone as far as this next match is concerned. I've been chasing destiny for a year now, working to make all the right opportunities fall into place, all I need is that one chance, that one time where nothing goes crazy. All I need is one real opportunity; just a ring, a ref and one fall. I know I can do this, I know I have to. And I'll use ever piece of motivation I can find or invent or misconstrue. Anything to give me just that bit more of an edge. But on March Twenty-Fifth, two days after I turn thirty-two, I'll be fighting for me, for my destiny, for all the people who know the pain of getting your dream in sight only to have it slip through your fingers. Not this time. Not this night. This is something I can't live without doing, and I won't.”
Raike's face slides from serious to relaxed, a self-satisfied smile on his pretty face.
Johnny: “I'll leave you on this note, a little happier than the rest of today’s little journey. We'll be leaving that arena having really struck a blow for Junior Heavyweights. We'll be leaving with our heads held high, as best we can through the pain and the beatings, knowing that no one who sees that match with ever forget one second of it, knowing that we have seared it into the memories of every man, women, and questionably parented child who sees us live. We will be the foundation from which this Junior Heavyweight belt gains the prestige it deserves. And I'll be the one to carry it forward. See you soon, sweetie. See you soon.”
A big, bright-eyed smile and finger wave from The Party Queen of Queens as the screen transitions back to indigo on it's way to the Raike in the Cash logo.