Post by Deleted on Jul 1, 2016 2:55:20 GMT
"What do you mean the World Championship contenders have already been decided?" Dr. Theodore Benson shouted into his cell phone.
Seth Daniels sat adjacent to Benson in a limousine seat. Benson snarled as he listened to the explanation being given on the other end of the phone. Daniels, however, had his head leaned back and eyes closed. His face looked much more relaxed.
"Let me get this straight. When you first opened the doors, you put Seth into a monumental triple threat main event match. Then you cancel the show and schedule a new show and forgot to schedule Seth. Now you have him opening the fucking show and are locking him out of contention for the World Championship? Are you fucking kidding me right now?"
Benson’s breathing quickened as his anger mounted. His shoulders were now rising and falling with each breath.
"You’d better rethink your position. If not, you can ask Dick Fusco what it’s like to deny Seth Daniels a World Title shot!"
The anger on Benson’s face vanished. The color drained from his face.
"He’s… He’s dead? When did he die? Wow, last Sunday? That’s insane."
"Long time coming," Seth muttered with a smirk, his eyes still closed.
Dr. Benson glared at Seth incredulously but Seth wasn’t paying any attention. His attention turned back to the voice on the other end of the line.
"Look, I don’t have time for this. Make it work or else."
Benson hung up the phone and pocketed it. He looked across at Seth.
"So happy with yourself, aren’t you?"
Seth just smiled to himself.
"So this Van Quinn kid. He’s impressive. He’s incredibly strong and he can take a beating," Dr. Benson pointed out.
"Then he will take a beating, won’t he?" Seth responded without hesitation.
"You don’t get it. It’s uncanny how much his skill matches yours. He prefers raw power while you rely on strike power. He prefers speed while you focus on technique. I checked your physical conditioning tests and they were practically the same."
Seth puts a finger up and points nonchalantly in Benson’s direction. "You’re almost there."
"Where?" Dr. Benson asked taken aback.
"It’s the head game. No matter what he could be, he ain’t it now. What, you think I’m gonna let some punk off the street come into my world and take me down? He’s a Jersey Shore ripoff who thinks this business is only handled in the weight room. With all that partying, you know he can’t keep his focus well enough to survive in that ring. I’m practically a trained fucking assassin in comparison."
"You know what that sounded like, right?" Benson asked with a chuckle.
"He can keep his excitement tucked away in those high school showers. But that’s another part of it, isn’t it? He’s too excited just being here. It takes more than just showing up and plucking high school chicks to make things work in the ring. Being a former football player, you’d think he’d understand that. When that big moment hits though, the bright lights might be a bit too much for him. Sure, he’s going to try and muscle me around and he might find himself on the advantage from time to time, but then he sees everyone watching him, he won't be able to help himself. He’ll lose his focus and try to show off, maybe flaunt those abs to the fifteen year old overdeveloped girl in the front row. When he does? He’ll take brutal shots to his body and face. He'll be just another concussion story in the sports world that never quite got his career off the ground."
"Concussion stories are all the rage in the news these days," Benson pointed out.
"He won’t have a helmet to protect him. My shots hit harder than the dick slaps to the face he’s taken."
"The sexual humor gets old after a while."
"Then call me Old Man Cockslap," Seth rebutted.
"Again with how things sound," Benson said with an eyeroll.
"My victory will sound that much better. Count on it."
"We’ll get you in on World Title contendership in no time."
"That’s good, but it’s not all about that, right?" Seth said with a shrug. "I’ve held plenty of titles. I’ll hold plenty more. Those old bastards though? They need to know who Engage belongs to."
"Good way to do that is to get that gold around your waist. You can be the face of Engage!"
"I’ll settle for smashing the faces of Engage, starting with Van Quinn."
End.
Seth Daniels sat adjacent to Benson in a limousine seat. Benson snarled as he listened to the explanation being given on the other end of the phone. Daniels, however, had his head leaned back and eyes closed. His face looked much more relaxed.
"Let me get this straight. When you first opened the doors, you put Seth into a monumental triple threat main event match. Then you cancel the show and schedule a new show and forgot to schedule Seth. Now you have him opening the fucking show and are locking him out of contention for the World Championship? Are you fucking kidding me right now?"
Benson’s breathing quickened as his anger mounted. His shoulders were now rising and falling with each breath.
"You’d better rethink your position. If not, you can ask Dick Fusco what it’s like to deny Seth Daniels a World Title shot!"
The anger on Benson’s face vanished. The color drained from his face.
"He’s… He’s dead? When did he die? Wow, last Sunday? That’s insane."
"Long time coming," Seth muttered with a smirk, his eyes still closed.
Dr. Benson glared at Seth incredulously but Seth wasn’t paying any attention. His attention turned back to the voice on the other end of the line.
"Look, I don’t have time for this. Make it work or else."
Benson hung up the phone and pocketed it. He looked across at Seth.
"So happy with yourself, aren’t you?"
Seth just smiled to himself.
"So this Van Quinn kid. He’s impressive. He’s incredibly strong and he can take a beating," Dr. Benson pointed out.
"Then he will take a beating, won’t he?" Seth responded without hesitation.
"You don’t get it. It’s uncanny how much his skill matches yours. He prefers raw power while you rely on strike power. He prefers speed while you focus on technique. I checked your physical conditioning tests and they were practically the same."
Seth puts a finger up and points nonchalantly in Benson’s direction. "You’re almost there."
"Where?" Dr. Benson asked taken aback.
"It’s the head game. No matter what he could be, he ain’t it now. What, you think I’m gonna let some punk off the street come into my world and take me down? He’s a Jersey Shore ripoff who thinks this business is only handled in the weight room. With all that partying, you know he can’t keep his focus well enough to survive in that ring. I’m practically a trained fucking assassin in comparison."
"You know what that sounded like, right?" Benson asked with a chuckle.
"He can keep his excitement tucked away in those high school showers. But that’s another part of it, isn’t it? He’s too excited just being here. It takes more than just showing up and plucking high school chicks to make things work in the ring. Being a former football player, you’d think he’d understand that. When that big moment hits though, the bright lights might be a bit too much for him. Sure, he’s going to try and muscle me around and he might find himself on the advantage from time to time, but then he sees everyone watching him, he won't be able to help himself. He’ll lose his focus and try to show off, maybe flaunt those abs to the fifteen year old overdeveloped girl in the front row. When he does? He’ll take brutal shots to his body and face. He'll be just another concussion story in the sports world that never quite got his career off the ground."
"Concussion stories are all the rage in the news these days," Benson pointed out.
"He won’t have a helmet to protect him. My shots hit harder than the dick slaps to the face he’s taken."
"The sexual humor gets old after a while."
"Then call me Old Man Cockslap," Seth rebutted.
"Again with how things sound," Benson said with an eyeroll.
"My victory will sound that much better. Count on it."
"We’ll get you in on World Title contendership in no time."
"That’s good, but it’s not all about that, right?" Seth said with a shrug. "I’ve held plenty of titles. I’ll hold plenty more. Those old bastards though? They need to know who Engage belongs to."
"Good way to do that is to get that gold around your waist. You can be the face of Engage!"
"I’ll settle for smashing the faces of Engage, starting with Van Quinn."
End.
