Post by tristan on Jan 30, 2013 13:48:34 GMT -5
Opening Statement:
I guess I should be surprised that I wasn't given what I asked for in Drake Hunter for my Takedown debut.
I guess I should be shocked that I didn't walk out of Army of One as the winner of the Rumble match all but affirming my position at Road 2 Glory by challenging for the M.P.W. World Heavyweight Championship.
I guess I should be grateful that I've been tossed a scrap in the form of Trey Baxter to occupy my time with for the next six weeks before I step to the plate and capture the MPW World Title...
.. but I'm not.
Why would the powers that be serve up their Number One Contender on a silver platter to yours truly? I mean by destroying him it does nothing but take away from his credibility.
Why should I be shocked about coming out on the losing end of the Army of One Rumble Match when the political nature behind the contest wasn't meant for ANYONE else other than Drake Hunter to go over.
... and why should I be grateful that a washed up former MPW Champion who bills himself as the King of the World, a cheaper version of the Best in the World is granting me some of his precious time when in actuality I'm not the guy who NEEDS him in order to maintain relevance, I'm not the guy who NEEDS to have a high profile contest to inflate my ego, and I'm not the guy who NEEDS to rely on the importance of any given situation just to sell a few extra tickets.
... Nah, that's not me.
But what I am...
I am THE TRISTAN SLATER.
... and I'm the guy who going to shake this federation to it's very foundation regardless of what anyone under the umbrella of M.P.W. likes it or not.
Fucking deal with it.
Flash Back
Thursday Night Takedown
January 24, 2013
It was a ground breaking night if I do say so myself. Why most of the masses are fixated on Drake Hunter and Ash Soulfate I was to busy calling out this company for the sham that it's become. I haven't even been here a month, and already I'm seeing the tell tale signs of why I left the Xtreme Wrestling Federation to begin with.
For me it's difficult to work well with others who don't have a firm grasp on this business.
Johnny Clash and Trey Baxter are prime examples of what's WRONG with Professional Wrestling today. While most of you will run around with your lips surgically planted on each of there asses, I'm the guy who defies authority, especially authority figures who can't help but put themselves in marquee positions while the rest of the roster "build" themselves to a point to where owners aren't needed wrestling Main Event matches.
I digress.
Tonight was about me establishing my dominance.
Tonight was about me putting that fucking cunt in his goddamn place for ever THINKING that he's big and bad enough to interrupt me while I am in the middle of addressing the masses. Hearing Trey Baxter scream like a bitch before tapping out to my Crossface brought a smile across my face that nobody in this organization will be able to slap off.
... and yet while I'm breaking new ground, while I'm establishing myself as the major player I profess to be... I managed to piss off my benefactor.
Wilson Baldwin- "Tristan, we're being summoned."
Wilson explains as I pass through the curtain, smile still etched across my face as the boo's from the crowd still remain present before suddenly breaking out into a thunderous ovation.
THE Tristan Slater- "Guess that fuck nugget got up. Good for him."
Clearly referring to Trey Baxter, yet while he's standing on his own accord now it's only because by the grace of God and because I'm a nice fucking guy. Tonight I had the opportunity to snap his arm like a twig, yet opted not to. I had the opportunity to end everything about him, yet opted to give this pathetic excuse for a Professional Wrestler a break.
... take notice.
Wilson Baldwin- "Did you hear me?"
Clearly I opted to ignore my agents opening statement seeing as it's simply a non issue to me at this time. I'm basking in the glory of leaving an alleged "superstar of the year" laying in the middle of the ring like a fucking nobody.
I breeze past Wilson who reaches out with his left hand before placing it upon my shoulder. A gentle squeeze stops me in my tracks as I turn around and face Mr. Baldwin.
THE Tristan Slater- "Alright, I'll bite. Who wants to see me? Clash? Another "silent" owner? Can't be Baxter, he's still on his ass."
It's safe to say that I don't really give a flying fuck if I piss anyone off with my statements. I've been told previously that I walk a fine line with many of the things I say.
When I hear shit like that I often ask myself why does everyone want some cookie cutter piece of talent that you will see in EVERY federation? Why don't you want someone who's going to stray away from the "norm" and actually DARE to be different, someone who will DARE to call it as it is and not as it "appears".
Wilson Baldwin- "HE wants to see us."
The sheer seriousness in the voice of Wilson is enough to make me wonder if my benefactor, the man responsible for me even being involved with this crap ass promotion has gotten butt hurt because I've chosen to break that foundation of the "norm" and has shattered that glass ceiling that nobody is suppose to come close to touching.
THE Tristan Slater- "The fuck is "he"? Does "he" have a name? Does "he" know that my fucking time is money?"
Wilson Baldwin- "Tris, now's not the time for jokes."
Wilson takes the lead as we start walking towards our awaiting limo which is parked inside the building faced towards the roll up door for easier access to get out of this shithole we've found ourselves in.
Wilson Baldwin- "He didn't sound happy, either."
THE Tristan Slater- "... and I care, why?"
Not to be a smartass or anything but I was brought here to do a job, I was brought here to MAKE this company something worthy of being labeled as Professional Wrestling, I was brought here to turn heads, rip ass and take fucking names!
Wilson Baldwin- "You should care simply because this man is signing our checks."
Money is materialistic to me. It's a non factor. I get paid more money per appearance than most of the hacks on the M.P.W. Roster will earn in a year. Yeah, I'm a pretty big deal regardless if you choose to admit it or not. I'm the guy who has his thumb on the pulse of this business while many of you will show up week in and week out while simply going through the motions.
THE Tristan Slater- "Look Will, get this guy together. He needs to understand that unlike him... I don't need any of this, I choose to take his money, I choose to do the job that he COULDN'T do, and I choose to do this MY WAY."
We reach the door to the limo before Wilson opens it up. I enter followed by Mr. Baldwin. Wilson closes the door upon his entry and the limo takes off leaving the scene to fade to black.
Random Thoughts:
While in transit to meet my Benefactor I've had several things come to mind.
For starters why the fuck does he want to see me to begin with? All I did was tell the truth. It's not my fault that fucking Trey Baxter stuck his nose where it didn't belong. At least this federation gave him some saving grace by cutting the live feed saving there hero from the embarrassment of being fucked up by someone who is looked at as a virtual "unknown".
I can tell that Wilson is a little more nervous about this meeting than I am.
Perhaps because he cares about the one aspect that is meaningless to me. Money.
It's hard to care about something that you have an abundance of, isn't it? Money isn't anything I have to worry about. I'm a self made millionaire that doesn't rely on his alcoholic father or his saint of a mother for a fucking thing.
THE MEETING:
Not even two hours following Takedown Wilson and I are shown seated in a secluded bar off the beaten path from the public eyes. The camera is set up opposite the two of us and shooting over the shoulder of the Benefactor. Both Wilson and I have drinks in front of us, I'm more of a Vodka guy, Grey Goose to be specific. Tonight's cocktail of choice is Grey Goose and Sprite. Fitting for the occasion.
Wilson Baldwin- "Here we are, as promised."
Trust me, if I could be ANYWHERE else I would. Hell, I'd rather sit through Drake Hunter talking about nothing of importance like he usually does than sit in front of this meaningless sack of monkey crap.
The Benefactor- "Let's cut the bullshit..."
The Benefactor's attention shifts firmly in my direction. His eyes lock on mine and I can tell that there's a little bit of heat between the two of us, yet I wouldn't understand why. I didn't sell him a bill of goods and not deliver.
The Benefactor- "What you did tonight wasn't apart of our plan."
I reach out to the smaller glass which sits in front of me before taking from the oak table before taking a sip as he continues.
The Benefactor- "You where suppose to win the Rumble..."
... and you're suppose to be able to handle your own shit instead of calling for a hired gun to take care of the heavy lifting for your punk ass.
The Benefactor- "You where suppose to be in line to challenge for the MPW World Heavyweight Championship, not wasting time with Trey Baxter."
Placing my glass back on the table I cut my eyes towards Wilson who already knows where my frame of mind is when it comes to everything that's been presented thus far in this "meeting", my attention is once again directed towards The Benefactor who begins to continue yet is halted by the palm of my raised right hand. Lowering my hand I stare right into his cold eyes...
THE Tristan Slater- "Have you been living under a fucking bridge the last two weeks?"
His eyes widen as I've clearly offended him, further proof exudes from his body as he spouts out.
The Benefactor- "Excuse me?"
Yep, I think he's a tad bit offended. Wilson quickly resumes the lead as he attempts to defuse the semi-volatile situation that is brewing in front of our very eyes.
Wilson Baldwin- "What my client is trying say is over the last two weeks he's come in and done everything he's said he was going to do."
The Benefactor- "Did he win the Rumble?"
I seriously want to reach over the table and pimp slap this little shit back into last week for his sheer and utter stupidity.
Wilson Baldwin- "Did he get his hand raised? No. Did he start fourth and outlast, spend more time, and eliminate more people than anyone else? Yes."
Drake Hunter excluded, he was man who tied me. Go figure.
Wilson Baldwin- "He's also the very man who quickly tried to rewrite a wrong earlier tonight as he CHALLENGED Drake Hunter, said winner of said Rumble, just to prove that he can and will stomp the shit out of this organizations Number One Contender."
... and has it been answered? Of course not. Why? Because this federation is all about "protecting" their investments.
Wilson Baldwin- "And as far as Trey Baxter is concerned, he simply put himself in harms way and got dealt with. Nothing more, nothing less."
... and if he get's in my way again I'm going to fucking finish him once and for all for nothing more than my sheer amusement.
Wilson Baldwin- "With all due respect, how is my client not living up to his end of the bargain? He's done everything he's said he would. He's slowly changing the foundation of this federation right under the noses of the talents involved."
Taking another sip from my glass I place it back on the table before interjecting myself.
THE Tristan Slater- "... and that thing with Baxter..."
The Benefactor- "What about it?"
THE Tristan Slater- "He was an example as to what happens when anyone tries to disrespect me... anyone."
Further emphasizing the last "anyone" with a colder, more methodical tone than usual because it's not only a message I am sending to everyone, but this Benefactor needs to understand that just because I'm lowing my standards to help him out doesn't mean he owns or controls ANYTHING that I am going to do.
The Benefactor- "Yeah, is that right?"
THE Tristan Slater- "Did I studder?"
There's an awkward silence for a brief second between the three of us before I softly, yet firmly state.
THE Tristan Slater- "I didn't think so."
Leaning back in my chair there's a sense of victory by proving my point while establishing that I'm certainly not the man to fuck with or take lightly. What I have on my side is the fact that nobody knows who I really am and what I'm really capable of when I see fit to be motivated... and guess what bitches, I'm motivated.
The Benefactor- "Well, I have it on good authority that they're not going to be granting you the match with Drake Hunter, oh no, instead they're going to serve up Roxi Johnson on a silver platter, they say that want to "challenge" her."
Ok, let's get past the obvious dick jokes that clearly could be made at Roxi's expense because I'm not above making classless cock jokes at the expense of someone who hand picked that as her "ring name".[i/]
THE Tristan Slater- "I can't say that I'm surprised."
I would want to be as far away from me as humanly possible if I wasn't me, especially when I smell blood in the water... and there's blood in the waters of M.P.W.
The Benefactor- "You should, she's a star on the rise with a huge future a head of her."
... and that means exactly what to me? Not a goddamn thing. While she's a prodigy for the future I'm a catalyst for the present. I don't walk around calling myself the Best in the World just because it happens to be cool and everyone's doing it. I do it because I exemplify what that every statement dictates. When I'm inside that squared circle NOBODY, and I mean NOBODY can touch me.
THE Tristan Slater- "I don't live in the future, I live in the now, and here and now I'm the Best in the World for a reason. You can sit in front of me all you like and try and play up Roxi all you like, you can try and tell me that she's got "potential", but we both know potential doesn't take you to the bank. We both know that the possibility of having a huge future and actually having one are two totally different things."
The great unknown is about to reveal his cards come Thursday Night on Takeover. This isn't a Battle Royal that's garnered towards one man, this isn't a contest where you get lucky and throw someone over the top rope... this is a contest that will end via pinfall or submission. A completely different ballgame all together, and one that has me firmly in my element simply because it caters to MY strong suits.
THE Tristan Slater- "Roxi might be good, but I'm great. She might be a future talent to this profession, but I'm THE talent in this profession. She might bring a fight, but I'm still going to make that bitch tap out!"
Call it my first REAL example of how I'll slice through the competition within this organization like a hot knife through butter. Oh yeah Roxi, the God's aren't smiling on you today my dear princess because all they've done is serve you up to the big bad wolf that's not above getting another set of red wings.
... ok, that's the ONLY cheep sexual joke I'll make for those who are clever enough to catch it.
The Benefactor- "For your sake I certainly hope so."
THE Tristan Slater- "The hell's that suppose to mean?"
The Benefactor- "It means that you're in a must win situation."
... and with that our scene draws to a close.
Ego Trip 102:
Just when I thought this federation couldn't get anymore low tier, just when I thought that the worst was over the powers that be put the proverbial screws to THE Tristan Slater once again. Ironic, it seems like I'm wanted when I'm needed yet when I try to enhance something with Trey Baxter I'm shot down by upper management because they cut the live feed. Interesting. Let's face it folks, while the Army of One Battle Royal didn't go completely as planned, while I still feel like I got jipped I'm always the kind of guy who finds the silver lining with everything I set out to accomplish. Did I win? No. Did I outlast everyone else in that goddamn thing? Fuckin' right. What do I get for it? Not a goddamn thing!
It's cool.
It's expected.
It's hard to work with a system that's working against you at every turn. Perhaps it was a great idea not to put pen to paper and ink a deal with this federation... at least I'm not obligated to do shit for M.P.W... shit but bring it crumbling down faster than the Great Wall of China on a hot summer night. Let's get something perfectly clear, last week on T.N.T. I addressed the crowd, more importantly the entire M.P.W. locker room, and to my surprise Trey Baxter decided to stick his nose in my business. Trey, look I get it. You're the guy who busted his ass to build this federation and mold it into what it's become today, so you taking offense to what I have to say is something that's also to be expected. I get it though, you want a piece of me to try and shut me up... but why would you want to waste your time with little ole me? Have I struck a nerve? Good! Because we're just getting started you insignificant sack of shit!
You want me to "prove" that I'm the Best in the World?
No problem.
Only we aren't going to do this when it's convenient for you. We're not going to do this when YOU say so... we do this on my time since I'm going to be used by this federation to probably put you over because as it seems thus far, unless your lips are firmly on the powers that be's ass cheeks you're not going to get ANYWHERE! I'm not a guy to play politics, hell, I hardly play well with other people to fucking begin with so if you or upper management in MPW think you're going to dictate to me what I'm going to do and when I'm going to do it you're sadly mistaken...
Speaking of mistaken.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't I walk out and challenge Drake Hunter to a singles contest for this weeks edition of T.N.T? Didn't I say that he probably wouldn't answer the call because deep down inside he's well aware that since this isn't a battle royal that his ass would get served faster than a homeless man at a soup kitchen! What's a matter Drake? I didn't realize you had a yellow streak that extends down your back.
As I sat back and pondered just what the fuck is going on around here I came the to realization that the powers that be clearly aren't taking me or what I want seriously.
.. so what did they do?
They've served up a goddamn skirt!
You've got to be kidding me, right?
Roxi Johnson.
Not only are they serving me up a skirt... but the dumb mother fucker who books this crap can't even BILL my name correctly! I'm not Tristan Slater... I'm THE Tristan Slater. How hard is that? How difficult is it to bill someone by the name given on there goddamn bio? If the powers that be are this incompetent I can only wonder what goes on in board meetings.
I digress.
Roxi, Roxi, Roxi...
In my short time here the only thing I know about you is you like dropping a promo moments before the deadline, that being said I wouldn't expect anything less of you this week. You'll no doubt comb through my work with a fine tooth comb and try and point out flaws, use my words, talk about how I am cocky, egotistical, a nobody, this, that and the other in a feeble attempt to cast yourself in a better light as you're forced to endure your next epic failure once we step through those ropes come Takedown.
I touched on it earlier but I'll reaffirm it now.
This isn't a Rumble Match, and while I should have won that goddamn thing I, much like yourself fell victim to that dreaded top rope... but at least my stint in the Rumble was memorable, and oh yeah, I didn't see you in the Top Three either, oh yeah, that's because you wasn't there. Make no mistake about it cupcake, this isn't an unpredictable environment that caters to a "numbers" game. This is me and you in the center of the ring where I'm going to shove my boot so far up your vagina you're going to think you're having a sexual encounter!
Fact is I don't give a shit about you or anything you've accomplished.
I don't care if you're looked at as a possible future of this business.
... and I can care the fuck less about anything you have to say about me because point blank, they're merely words strung together to try and save face for the failure you're about to embark on.
Yes, I'm an egomaniac, that's pretty obvious.
Yes, I'm cocky.
Yes, I'm arrogant.
Yes... I am in the Best in the World.
Talk is cheep though, isn't it? Unlike most who lace a pair of fucking boots who TALK the talk, I walk the walk. Unlike each and everyone of you on the M.P.W. Roster, I'm not here to fill space, I'm not here to be labeled as someone with "potential", and I'm sure a shit not here to play second best to a half assed talent such as yourself!
It's insulting that I even have to deal with you let alone waste my time discussing you.
I want you to know one thing, just one thing!
This isn't personal.
If you want to cast judgment or pass blame then shoot that up the flag pole because the people you need to address your concerns to rest in that corporate office sitting behind a desk in a suit taylor made by J.C. Penny! Nah, sweet cheeks, I'm not the one to sit here and listen to your complete and utter horse shit. Instead, I'm going to be the guy who humiliates you in front of the world... and there's pretty much nothing you can do to stop it. All that being said I certainly hope that most of you out in TV land are taking notice, I hope that I have your undivided attention, and I hope that each and everyone of you come to the firm realization that I'm not here to be anyone's doormat, instead I'm here to change the game completely... and it's starting with you, Roxi Johnson.
So here you go.
Take all this information I've dropped on you and run with it because we all know you can't come up with anything originally if your fucking life depended on it. Just remember that when all of this is said and done, when the smoke clears and the dust settles, when all of your peers slap you across the back as you walk that backstage hallway with your head held in shame that there's nothing wrong losing to the Best in the World!
I guess I should be surprised that I wasn't given what I asked for in Drake Hunter for my Takedown debut.
I guess I should be shocked that I didn't walk out of Army of One as the winner of the Rumble match all but affirming my position at Road 2 Glory by challenging for the M.P.W. World Heavyweight Championship.
I guess I should be grateful that I've been tossed a scrap in the form of Trey Baxter to occupy my time with for the next six weeks before I step to the plate and capture the MPW World Title...
.. but I'm not.
Why would the powers that be serve up their Number One Contender on a silver platter to yours truly? I mean by destroying him it does nothing but take away from his credibility.
Why should I be shocked about coming out on the losing end of the Army of One Rumble Match when the political nature behind the contest wasn't meant for ANYONE else other than Drake Hunter to go over.
... and why should I be grateful that a washed up former MPW Champion who bills himself as the King of the World, a cheaper version of the Best in the World is granting me some of his precious time when in actuality I'm not the guy who NEEDS him in order to maintain relevance, I'm not the guy who NEEDS to have a high profile contest to inflate my ego, and I'm not the guy who NEEDS to rely on the importance of any given situation just to sell a few extra tickets.
... Nah, that's not me.
But what I am...
I am THE TRISTAN SLATER.
... and I'm the guy who going to shake this federation to it's very foundation regardless of what anyone under the umbrella of M.P.W. likes it or not.
Fucking deal with it.
Flash Back
Thursday Night Takedown
January 24, 2013
It was a ground breaking night if I do say so myself. Why most of the masses are fixated on Drake Hunter and Ash Soulfate I was to busy calling out this company for the sham that it's become. I haven't even been here a month, and already I'm seeing the tell tale signs of why I left the Xtreme Wrestling Federation to begin with.
For me it's difficult to work well with others who don't have a firm grasp on this business.
Johnny Clash and Trey Baxter are prime examples of what's WRONG with Professional Wrestling today. While most of you will run around with your lips surgically planted on each of there asses, I'm the guy who defies authority, especially authority figures who can't help but put themselves in marquee positions while the rest of the roster "build" themselves to a point to where owners aren't needed wrestling Main Event matches.
I digress.
Tonight was about me establishing my dominance.
Tonight was about me putting that fucking cunt in his goddamn place for ever THINKING that he's big and bad enough to interrupt me while I am in the middle of addressing the masses. Hearing Trey Baxter scream like a bitch before tapping out to my Crossface brought a smile across my face that nobody in this organization will be able to slap off.
... and yet while I'm breaking new ground, while I'm establishing myself as the major player I profess to be... I managed to piss off my benefactor.
Wilson Baldwin- "Tristan, we're being summoned."
Wilson explains as I pass through the curtain, smile still etched across my face as the boo's from the crowd still remain present before suddenly breaking out into a thunderous ovation.
THE Tristan Slater- "Guess that fuck nugget got up. Good for him."
Clearly referring to Trey Baxter, yet while he's standing on his own accord now it's only because by the grace of God and because I'm a nice fucking guy. Tonight I had the opportunity to snap his arm like a twig, yet opted not to. I had the opportunity to end everything about him, yet opted to give this pathetic excuse for a Professional Wrestler a break.
... take notice.
Wilson Baldwin- "Did you hear me?"
Clearly I opted to ignore my agents opening statement seeing as it's simply a non issue to me at this time. I'm basking in the glory of leaving an alleged "superstar of the year" laying in the middle of the ring like a fucking nobody.
I breeze past Wilson who reaches out with his left hand before placing it upon my shoulder. A gentle squeeze stops me in my tracks as I turn around and face Mr. Baldwin.
THE Tristan Slater- "Alright, I'll bite. Who wants to see me? Clash? Another "silent" owner? Can't be Baxter, he's still on his ass."
It's safe to say that I don't really give a flying fuck if I piss anyone off with my statements. I've been told previously that I walk a fine line with many of the things I say.
When I hear shit like that I often ask myself why does everyone want some cookie cutter piece of talent that you will see in EVERY federation? Why don't you want someone who's going to stray away from the "norm" and actually DARE to be different, someone who will DARE to call it as it is and not as it "appears".
Wilson Baldwin- "HE wants to see us."
The sheer seriousness in the voice of Wilson is enough to make me wonder if my benefactor, the man responsible for me even being involved with this crap ass promotion has gotten butt hurt because I've chosen to break that foundation of the "norm" and has shattered that glass ceiling that nobody is suppose to come close to touching.
THE Tristan Slater- "The fuck is "he"? Does "he" have a name? Does "he" know that my fucking time is money?"
Wilson Baldwin- "Tris, now's not the time for jokes."
Wilson takes the lead as we start walking towards our awaiting limo which is parked inside the building faced towards the roll up door for easier access to get out of this shithole we've found ourselves in.
Wilson Baldwin- "He didn't sound happy, either."
THE Tristan Slater- "... and I care, why?"
Not to be a smartass or anything but I was brought here to do a job, I was brought here to MAKE this company something worthy of being labeled as Professional Wrestling, I was brought here to turn heads, rip ass and take fucking names!
Wilson Baldwin- "You should care simply because this man is signing our checks."
Money is materialistic to me. It's a non factor. I get paid more money per appearance than most of the hacks on the M.P.W. Roster will earn in a year. Yeah, I'm a pretty big deal regardless if you choose to admit it or not. I'm the guy who has his thumb on the pulse of this business while many of you will show up week in and week out while simply going through the motions.
THE Tristan Slater- "Look Will, get this guy together. He needs to understand that unlike him... I don't need any of this, I choose to take his money, I choose to do the job that he COULDN'T do, and I choose to do this MY WAY."
We reach the door to the limo before Wilson opens it up. I enter followed by Mr. Baldwin. Wilson closes the door upon his entry and the limo takes off leaving the scene to fade to black.
Random Thoughts:
While in transit to meet my Benefactor I've had several things come to mind.
For starters why the fuck does he want to see me to begin with? All I did was tell the truth. It's not my fault that fucking Trey Baxter stuck his nose where it didn't belong. At least this federation gave him some saving grace by cutting the live feed saving there hero from the embarrassment of being fucked up by someone who is looked at as a virtual "unknown".
I can tell that Wilson is a little more nervous about this meeting than I am.
Perhaps because he cares about the one aspect that is meaningless to me. Money.
It's hard to care about something that you have an abundance of, isn't it? Money isn't anything I have to worry about. I'm a self made millionaire that doesn't rely on his alcoholic father or his saint of a mother for a fucking thing.
THE MEETING:
Not even two hours following Takedown Wilson and I are shown seated in a secluded bar off the beaten path from the public eyes. The camera is set up opposite the two of us and shooting over the shoulder of the Benefactor. Both Wilson and I have drinks in front of us, I'm more of a Vodka guy, Grey Goose to be specific. Tonight's cocktail of choice is Grey Goose and Sprite. Fitting for the occasion.
Wilson Baldwin- "Here we are, as promised."
Trust me, if I could be ANYWHERE else I would. Hell, I'd rather sit through Drake Hunter talking about nothing of importance like he usually does than sit in front of this meaningless sack of monkey crap.
The Benefactor- "Let's cut the bullshit..."
The Benefactor's attention shifts firmly in my direction. His eyes lock on mine and I can tell that there's a little bit of heat between the two of us, yet I wouldn't understand why. I didn't sell him a bill of goods and not deliver.
The Benefactor- "What you did tonight wasn't apart of our plan."
I reach out to the smaller glass which sits in front of me before taking from the oak table before taking a sip as he continues.
The Benefactor- "You where suppose to win the Rumble..."
... and you're suppose to be able to handle your own shit instead of calling for a hired gun to take care of the heavy lifting for your punk ass.
The Benefactor- "You where suppose to be in line to challenge for the MPW World Heavyweight Championship, not wasting time with Trey Baxter."
Placing my glass back on the table I cut my eyes towards Wilson who already knows where my frame of mind is when it comes to everything that's been presented thus far in this "meeting", my attention is once again directed towards The Benefactor who begins to continue yet is halted by the palm of my raised right hand. Lowering my hand I stare right into his cold eyes...
THE Tristan Slater- "Have you been living under a fucking bridge the last two weeks?"
His eyes widen as I've clearly offended him, further proof exudes from his body as he spouts out.
The Benefactor- "Excuse me?"
Yep, I think he's a tad bit offended. Wilson quickly resumes the lead as he attempts to defuse the semi-volatile situation that is brewing in front of our very eyes.
Wilson Baldwin- "What my client is trying say is over the last two weeks he's come in and done everything he's said he was going to do."
The Benefactor- "Did he win the Rumble?"
I seriously want to reach over the table and pimp slap this little shit back into last week for his sheer and utter stupidity.
Wilson Baldwin- "Did he get his hand raised? No. Did he start fourth and outlast, spend more time, and eliminate more people than anyone else? Yes."
Drake Hunter excluded, he was man who tied me. Go figure.
Wilson Baldwin- "He's also the very man who quickly tried to rewrite a wrong earlier tonight as he CHALLENGED Drake Hunter, said winner of said Rumble, just to prove that he can and will stomp the shit out of this organizations Number One Contender."
... and has it been answered? Of course not. Why? Because this federation is all about "protecting" their investments.
Wilson Baldwin- "And as far as Trey Baxter is concerned, he simply put himself in harms way and got dealt with. Nothing more, nothing less."
... and if he get's in my way again I'm going to fucking finish him once and for all for nothing more than my sheer amusement.
Wilson Baldwin- "With all due respect, how is my client not living up to his end of the bargain? He's done everything he's said he would. He's slowly changing the foundation of this federation right under the noses of the talents involved."
Taking another sip from my glass I place it back on the table before interjecting myself.
THE Tristan Slater- "... and that thing with Baxter..."
The Benefactor- "What about it?"
THE Tristan Slater- "He was an example as to what happens when anyone tries to disrespect me... anyone."
Further emphasizing the last "anyone" with a colder, more methodical tone than usual because it's not only a message I am sending to everyone, but this Benefactor needs to understand that just because I'm lowing my standards to help him out doesn't mean he owns or controls ANYTHING that I am going to do.
The Benefactor- "Yeah, is that right?"
THE Tristan Slater- "Did I studder?"
There's an awkward silence for a brief second between the three of us before I softly, yet firmly state.
THE Tristan Slater- "I didn't think so."
Leaning back in my chair there's a sense of victory by proving my point while establishing that I'm certainly not the man to fuck with or take lightly. What I have on my side is the fact that nobody knows who I really am and what I'm really capable of when I see fit to be motivated... and guess what bitches, I'm motivated.
The Benefactor- "Well, I have it on good authority that they're not going to be granting you the match with Drake Hunter, oh no, instead they're going to serve up Roxi Johnson on a silver platter, they say that want to "challenge" her."
Ok, let's get past the obvious dick jokes that clearly could be made at Roxi's expense because I'm not above making classless cock jokes at the expense of someone who hand picked that as her "ring name".[i/]
THE Tristan Slater- "I can't say that I'm surprised."
I would want to be as far away from me as humanly possible if I wasn't me, especially when I smell blood in the water... and there's blood in the waters of M.P.W.
The Benefactor- "You should, she's a star on the rise with a huge future a head of her."
... and that means exactly what to me? Not a goddamn thing. While she's a prodigy for the future I'm a catalyst for the present. I don't walk around calling myself the Best in the World just because it happens to be cool and everyone's doing it. I do it because I exemplify what that every statement dictates. When I'm inside that squared circle NOBODY, and I mean NOBODY can touch me.
THE Tristan Slater- "I don't live in the future, I live in the now, and here and now I'm the Best in the World for a reason. You can sit in front of me all you like and try and play up Roxi all you like, you can try and tell me that she's got "potential", but we both know potential doesn't take you to the bank. We both know that the possibility of having a huge future and actually having one are two totally different things."
The great unknown is about to reveal his cards come Thursday Night on Takeover. This isn't a Battle Royal that's garnered towards one man, this isn't a contest where you get lucky and throw someone over the top rope... this is a contest that will end via pinfall or submission. A completely different ballgame all together, and one that has me firmly in my element simply because it caters to MY strong suits.
THE Tristan Slater- "Roxi might be good, but I'm great. She might be a future talent to this profession, but I'm THE talent in this profession. She might bring a fight, but I'm still going to make that bitch tap out!"
Call it my first REAL example of how I'll slice through the competition within this organization like a hot knife through butter. Oh yeah Roxi, the God's aren't smiling on you today my dear princess because all they've done is serve you up to the big bad wolf that's not above getting another set of red wings.
... ok, that's the ONLY cheep sexual joke I'll make for those who are clever enough to catch it.
The Benefactor- "For your sake I certainly hope so."
THE Tristan Slater- "The hell's that suppose to mean?"
The Benefactor- "It means that you're in a must win situation."
... and with that our scene draws to a close.
Ego Trip 102:
Just when I thought this federation couldn't get anymore low tier, just when I thought that the worst was over the powers that be put the proverbial screws to THE Tristan Slater once again. Ironic, it seems like I'm wanted when I'm needed yet when I try to enhance something with Trey Baxter I'm shot down by upper management because they cut the live feed. Interesting. Let's face it folks, while the Army of One Battle Royal didn't go completely as planned, while I still feel like I got jipped I'm always the kind of guy who finds the silver lining with everything I set out to accomplish. Did I win? No. Did I outlast everyone else in that goddamn thing? Fuckin' right. What do I get for it? Not a goddamn thing!
It's cool.
It's expected.
It's hard to work with a system that's working against you at every turn. Perhaps it was a great idea not to put pen to paper and ink a deal with this federation... at least I'm not obligated to do shit for M.P.W... shit but bring it crumbling down faster than the Great Wall of China on a hot summer night. Let's get something perfectly clear, last week on T.N.T. I addressed the crowd, more importantly the entire M.P.W. locker room, and to my surprise Trey Baxter decided to stick his nose in my business. Trey, look I get it. You're the guy who busted his ass to build this federation and mold it into what it's become today, so you taking offense to what I have to say is something that's also to be expected. I get it though, you want a piece of me to try and shut me up... but why would you want to waste your time with little ole me? Have I struck a nerve? Good! Because we're just getting started you insignificant sack of shit!
You want me to "prove" that I'm the Best in the World?
No problem.
Only we aren't going to do this when it's convenient for you. We're not going to do this when YOU say so... we do this on my time since I'm going to be used by this federation to probably put you over because as it seems thus far, unless your lips are firmly on the powers that be's ass cheeks you're not going to get ANYWHERE! I'm not a guy to play politics, hell, I hardly play well with other people to fucking begin with so if you or upper management in MPW think you're going to dictate to me what I'm going to do and when I'm going to do it you're sadly mistaken...
Speaking of mistaken.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't I walk out and challenge Drake Hunter to a singles contest for this weeks edition of T.N.T? Didn't I say that he probably wouldn't answer the call because deep down inside he's well aware that since this isn't a battle royal that his ass would get served faster than a homeless man at a soup kitchen! What's a matter Drake? I didn't realize you had a yellow streak that extends down your back.
As I sat back and pondered just what the fuck is going on around here I came the to realization that the powers that be clearly aren't taking me or what I want seriously.
.. so what did they do?
They've served up a goddamn skirt!
You've got to be kidding me, right?
Roxi Johnson.
Not only are they serving me up a skirt... but the dumb mother fucker who books this crap can't even BILL my name correctly! I'm not Tristan Slater... I'm THE Tristan Slater. How hard is that? How difficult is it to bill someone by the name given on there goddamn bio? If the powers that be are this incompetent I can only wonder what goes on in board meetings.
I digress.
Roxi, Roxi, Roxi...
In my short time here the only thing I know about you is you like dropping a promo moments before the deadline, that being said I wouldn't expect anything less of you this week. You'll no doubt comb through my work with a fine tooth comb and try and point out flaws, use my words, talk about how I am cocky, egotistical, a nobody, this, that and the other in a feeble attempt to cast yourself in a better light as you're forced to endure your next epic failure once we step through those ropes come Takedown.
I touched on it earlier but I'll reaffirm it now.
This isn't a Rumble Match, and while I should have won that goddamn thing I, much like yourself fell victim to that dreaded top rope... but at least my stint in the Rumble was memorable, and oh yeah, I didn't see you in the Top Three either, oh yeah, that's because you wasn't there. Make no mistake about it cupcake, this isn't an unpredictable environment that caters to a "numbers" game. This is me and you in the center of the ring where I'm going to shove my boot so far up your vagina you're going to think you're having a sexual encounter!
Fact is I don't give a shit about you or anything you've accomplished.
I don't care if you're looked at as a possible future of this business.
... and I can care the fuck less about anything you have to say about me because point blank, they're merely words strung together to try and save face for the failure you're about to embark on.
Yes, I'm an egomaniac, that's pretty obvious.
Yes, I'm cocky.
Yes, I'm arrogant.
Yes... I am in the Best in the World.
Talk is cheep though, isn't it? Unlike most who lace a pair of fucking boots who TALK the talk, I walk the walk. Unlike each and everyone of you on the M.P.W. Roster, I'm not here to fill space, I'm not here to be labeled as someone with "potential", and I'm sure a shit not here to play second best to a half assed talent such as yourself!
It's insulting that I even have to deal with you let alone waste my time discussing you.
I want you to know one thing, just one thing!
This isn't personal.
If you want to cast judgment or pass blame then shoot that up the flag pole because the people you need to address your concerns to rest in that corporate office sitting behind a desk in a suit taylor made by J.C. Penny! Nah, sweet cheeks, I'm not the one to sit here and listen to your complete and utter horse shit. Instead, I'm going to be the guy who humiliates you in front of the world... and there's pretty much nothing you can do to stop it. All that being said I certainly hope that most of you out in TV land are taking notice, I hope that I have your undivided attention, and I hope that each and everyone of you come to the firm realization that I'm not here to be anyone's doormat, instead I'm here to change the game completely... and it's starting with you, Roxi Johnson.
So here you go.
Take all this information I've dropped on you and run with it because we all know you can't come up with anything originally if your fucking life depended on it. Just remember that when all of this is said and done, when the smoke clears and the dust settles, when all of your peers slap you across the back as you walk that backstage hallway with your head held in shame that there's nothing wrong losing to the Best in the World!