Post by kidnotorious on Nov 25, 2011 23:15:36 GMT -5
[It's early in the morning as your EUW Hardkore Champion steps into a large room with wide, high walls. He flips a switch on the side to turn on the overhead lights, as the little pockets of light coming through the tiny windows at the top of the building where the walls meet the ceiling isn't really enough light for his liking, at least not this early in the morning. Dressed in a pair of black workout shorts and a black "Notorious" t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, he walks over to a bench next to a group of lockers on the left side of the room, setting the bag down on the bench, laying the EUW Hardkore Title on top of it, a bit of a smile on his face as he takes a look around the area. A part of the far back wall was made out of glass with a open space for a doorway leading into a classroom/office, while the far right wall leads to another enclosed area with a number of state-of-the-art workout machines as well as the usual weight benches and the like. The main area of the room has a wrestling ring in the middle of the room, with a weight bag and various other practice tools around the ring. He thought back to his first day in this building, the place where he learned to be a wrestler.]
[The Young Gun chuckled to himself before pulling a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge by the lockers and heading over to the weight room. He put the bottle down by the bike machine, doing some final stretches before climbing onto the machine and starting it up. It seems like everyone had their own ritual to get ready for a big match, and Brandon had a pretty big one to gear up for. Some people went across the world to the spot of a favorite memory, some people focused themselves by doing other things, enjoying life before worrying about the big day, some people -claiming to have the heart of a lion but couldn't even be bothered to show up in the months since a certain blonde had defeated them in that ring- seemingly did nothing at all. Brandon chose to come here. To the place where it started, to remind himself what he'd been, how he'd started out, and just how far he'd come since those early days. Caoran Lavery may think he's so big and strong and is gonna run over 'poor little Brandon' with ease, but he's going to learn fairly quickly that it's usually the smallest dog in the yard that has the most fight.]
[As he pushed himself to go harder and faster on the bike he thought about how right Bryant was. Bryant and Jeremy had been ridiculously hard on him and Adrian, but in the end that had been a good thing. It took Brandon a little longer than it did Adrian, but eventually he too found his calling, hit that right spot at that right time and took the world by storm. He thought about how much things had changed since then, since even a year ago, when things had seemed the bleakest, to what they were now. It was practically a complete flip flop, what was old was new again, everything that had been wrong had been seemingly fixed, and it all seemingly came to a head in one moment...]
[The elation he felt that night was through the roof. Everything -well, almost everything- he'd worked towards had all come to fruition in that one moment, those three seconds etched into history forever. The final piece of the puzzle wouldn't come until that night on the boardwalk with a certain blonde. He'd won one other title before it, but this was a different feeling, as while that title was special, the company he'd won it in hadn't even shown the entire match it was such a disaster. This was special. This was live and on tv for every SINGLE one of his doubters, his haters, to see right in front of their very own eyes that he was for real. And no matter how many times guys like Caoran Lavery will try to denounce it, try to put it down like Bane wasn't a 'worthy opponent' the fact remains right on video tape. Both men put their hearts into their work and while Bane may have his faults he was good enough to beat the last person to hold that title, which made Brandon beating Bane just as special.
It takes skill to win a title no matter WHO you are, it takes MORE than just skill to keep it. But he wasn't defending his newly won title at Prestige, a fact that made him a little sad until his opponent opened his mouth and made him realize that even though he was a fighting champion and would defend against anyone at any time, this arrogant jackass needed to be taught a lesson in humility before he got a shot at ANY gold. So Brandon decided right then and there that he wasn't going to let this prick get one up on him. Caoran Lavery wanted Brandon to be his second victory, a 'public execution' of what Caoran could do with all the super-cool moves that he made sure to name off so we wouldn't forget them anytime soon, as if rambling them off made it oh-so-certain he was going to be able to DO those moves with ease to his next opponent. No, he was sorry to say he was going to have to disappoint mister Lavery.
As Raptor Jesus as his witness, Brandon Young wasn't going to be Caoran Lavery's second win. He was going to be his first loss!
[We open up at a local coffee shop, where we find Brandon Young sat at a table with a woman with atomically-bright red hair, a woman who was like a sister to him, who was also the wife of his best friend Adrian, and, funny enough, the cousin of his new love. Rachel Tanner nodded at Brandon while she took a drink from a coffee cup, as he turned and looked at the camera.]
Brandon: And now, a reading from Caoran Lavery's journal.
The Young Gun holds up a notebook with a hello kitty sticker on the front. He opens it to a page in the back and begins reading.
Brandon: Dear Journal, today I was a pompous arrogant douchebag, and my camera man who stole from a woman I treated like shit who was just doing her job was kind of a dolt. Today we were kidnapped by hillfolk never to be seen again. It was the best day ever!
Rachel: Hy-larious.
[Huzzah for Firefly references! The Young Gun smirks a bit as he sets the 'journal' down on the table.]
Rachel: So, Bacon! Before you get too far into making this guy look like the fuckwit he is... You and Nat, eh?
[Brandon smiles a bit sheepishly as he drinks from his cup.]
Brandon: Mmhmm.
Rachel: Well shit, it took you long enough!
[Brandon just shakes his head and chuckles.]
Brandon: It did, eheh. I'm just glad things finally went the way I hoped...
[He sighs happily, lost in a daydream momentarily.]
Rachel: Yeah, well, that overgrown piece of shit's lucky that it's not me getting into the ring with him instead of you. That bullshit he said about Nat... I'd take his ass the way of Rachel Cole, except I'd not let the ref pull me off this go 'round.
Brandon: Oh yeah, he's gonna pay for that shit.
[He rolls his eyes before glancing back at the camera.]
Brandon: Caoran Lavery-- Wait wait wait, let's do this right.
[Brandon stands up from his chair, moving into the middle of the coffee shop speaking out to the people watching.]
Brandon: For those who don't know me my name is Brandon Young, and I am the light in the great darkness, the great Hispanic Hope, your savior for all that is good and right in the world of professional wrestling.
[He glances back at Rachel, ignoring the blank stares of the other customers for a moment.]
Brandon: Was that pretentious enough?
Rachel: You forgot to work in being the grand poo-bah of something.
Brandon: Oh yeah. I am the Grand poo-bah of Hardkore wrestling in EUW. In this time of uncertainty so many of you have fallen into despair, lost in your sadness for when wrestling wasn't full of incompetent asshats who claim that vanity and narcissism have no place in the wrestling world while being pretty much the POSTER BOY for both of these problems. But fear not, for I am here now, and I will save all your souls!
Male customer: Who the fuck are you?
Brandon: Last time out, I gained the love and affection of a woman -something Caoran Lavery clearly knows nothing about- and then with said new love went on to pummel a couple'a Irish pricks into oblivion. I won't waste your time naming off all the different ways we did so with our finishing moves because really, who does that sort of shit?
Other Male Customer: ...No really. Who the fuck ARE you?!
Brandon: Show of hands. How many of you know who Caoran Lavery is?
[The entire coffee shop stares at Brandon as one, completely silent, unmoving, nobody raising their hands.]
Brandon: Thank you for proving my point.
[And with that, he sits back down at his table.]
Brandon: See in your fantasy world where you're just the greatest thing in the history of everything ever, where you look down upon everyone despite only ever having one match in this company, it might be one thing to walk up to a bunch of different people on the street, ask them a couple questions about wrasslin' and get the response you're looking for. But here in the real world, while there are millions and millions of fans who watch us do what we do, there are also so many more who DON'T. Who think what we do is a sideshow carnival act. And trust me when I tell you you are more likely to run into those who DON'T watch it over those who do.
So you'll forgive me if I'm not really all that bothered by your little 'man on the street' video or the people in it. If all you can come up with against me is my budding relationship with Natalie then I think it's fairly obvious that you and your little friends on the street don't actually have anything on me at all!
By the way, love does not equal 'boning.' Sure it's a part of it, a fun sexy part, but that's not all there is to it. I know it's hard to wrap your tiny little chauvinistic brain around how you could be with a woman and not fuck their brains out on a nightly basis, but some things can't be rushed. She's not that type 'a gal and I'm not pushing her into it.
[He shakes his head, pushing his hair back out of his face as he takes a drink from his cup.]
Brandon: For someone who talks about how terrible it is to be 'ignorant' you sure do a fantastic job of being so. You act like you've studied me but then all you seem to have to tell me is where my focus should or shouldn't be. Hah. Lemme put it clear to ya, 'boyo.'
...My focus is EXACTLY where it should be.
See me and Natalie, that's a thing, a very important, special thing that's new and exciting and I love every second of it, but neither of us are so focused on each other that we would ever forget to do our JOBS! Because this is more than just a job to us, more than just a career to us, this- stepping into that ring and wowing those fans, winning despite every single person telling you you can't... that's a way of LIFE for us! I spend plenty of time focusing on wrestling, but I'm also a human being with a real life, and so I have to spend time on that too. But when it comes time for me to step into that ring, my mind is one-hundred-and-fifty percent focused on the person put in front of me.
Don't ever doubt my focus, Caoran.
[He stares at the camera.]
Brandon: As for the rest of your rant, spitting truth and whatnot. You've had one match. All you're spitting right now is hearsay. You THINK you can do this, you think you can go in and crush and maim everyone because you did it to Dr Whatever. I'm not him, Caoran. I'm me. Brandon Anthony Young. And unlike your first opponent, I actually give a damn about my being in this match. You're right, this is a test for me. My biggest? I dunno about that. You act like I've only beaten nobodies and never was's like you claim Bane to be, but the last time I checked mister "I've watched your history" I beat the runner up in the big World Title #1 contenders rumble, CLEAN, in the middle of the ring. Not only that, but that same match featured a former World Champion, EUW Hall of famer or should-be-hall-of-famer-if-he-isn't The Scorpion. That ain't "nobodies." Those are two very big somebodies.
And *I* beat them. With only my hands and my feet and my Raptor-Jesus given talent to do so.
The same talent I'm gonna use to beat YOU, by the way.
[He takes another long drink off his coffee, finishing it off before giving a smile to the camera.]
Brandon: You want truth? The truth is you're nothing special, Caoran. I don't mean talent-wise, talent wise you've got that in spades. This ain't gonna be an easy match for me in any terms. But in the grand scheme of wrestling, all you are is another muscle-bound meathead who's way too big for his britches. Some arrogant jackass who thinks because he's got giant arms and he beat ONE GUY that he's unstoppable when the TRUTH is... he isn't.
I'M going to stop you, Caoran. Because I'm a very stubborn man. You'll knock me down, sure. You may even kick my ass, hell that's probably likely. But the thing is? No matter how hard you knock me down? I will get back up. Ragdoll me around the ring, I will get back up. Squeeze the life outta me with your large roided up arms until I can't breath... I will GET back up. I don't care what it takes, I will keep fighting and keep fighting and keep fighting until one of us, preferably YOU, can't fight anymore.
THAT's who Brandon Young is. You think you know who I am? You have no goddamn clue!
But I'm gonna show you. I'm gonna show you, and the world by doing the one thing you think is impossible for anyone to do.
I'm gonna kick your teeth down your sanctimonious throat, and walk out with MY HAND raised in victory!
Brandon: And THAT'S the truth.
[Fade.]
The lights of the giant building that used to be a Costco warehouse shone down brightly on the group of young people surrounding the wrestling ring in the middle of the area. Aside from some generic workout equipment off to the side of the room, the ring is the only thing inside the warehouse, clearly this is a new thing for everyone involved. Two older men wearing black polo shirts with "NW" etched onto the left breast pocket walk up down the row of kids, calling out names. One of them, the shorter of the two, with long black hair tied up in a ponytail, stopped in front of what turns out to be a young Brandon.
Instructor: Young, Brandon A.!
Brandon: Sir yes sir!
He shouted out, saluting with his left hand, an action that gained a quirk of an eyebrow from the instructor and weird looks from everyone else around him. He quickly put his hand down, a sheepish smile crossing his face.
Brandon: I ah, I mean, that's me.
The instructor shook his head, marking something off on the clipboard he's holding before looking back at Brandon.
Instructor: So, why do you want to be a wrestler?
Brandon: To follow in the footsteps of my cousin, sir.
Instructor: Oh yeah? Your cousin's a wrestler, eh?
Brandon: Former. He retired to teach the next generation.
Instructor: ...Did he now?
Brandon: He did.
The instructor smirked a bit, knowing exactly where this was going.
Instructor: Would I know him?
Brandon: Well considering he's YOU, I would hope so?
A wide grinned crossed the instructor's face as the group of students around him broke out into murmers. He shook his head with a chuckle.
Jeremy Young: First rule of wrestling school Brandon, don't ever admit to being the teacher's relative.
Brandon just stared at him, oblivious to the glares from the people around him.
Brandon: ...Why?
Jeremy: Because now they're going to suspect nepotism at every corner. Now I'm gonna have to push you even harder so we both don't look bad.
Finally Brandon took note of the people around him, all of them giving him the evil eye. This was a new thing for everyone, and even though with the people in charge it was fairly obvious playing favorites wasn't in the cards, they didn't know that, couldn't know it, and so the obvious threats to their manhood took over. He sighed. It was gonna be a long couple of months.
Brandon: ...Oh.
Instructor: Young, Brandon A.!
Brandon: Sir yes sir!
He shouted out, saluting with his left hand, an action that gained a quirk of an eyebrow from the instructor and weird looks from everyone else around him. He quickly put his hand down, a sheepish smile crossing his face.
Brandon: I ah, I mean, that's me.
The instructor shook his head, marking something off on the clipboard he's holding before looking back at Brandon.
Instructor: So, why do you want to be a wrestler?
Brandon: To follow in the footsteps of my cousin, sir.
Instructor: Oh yeah? Your cousin's a wrestler, eh?
Brandon: Former. He retired to teach the next generation.
Instructor: ...Did he now?
Brandon: He did.
The instructor smirked a bit, knowing exactly where this was going.
Instructor: Would I know him?
Brandon: Well considering he's YOU, I would hope so?
A wide grinned crossed the instructor's face as the group of students around him broke out into murmers. He shook his head with a chuckle.
Jeremy Young: First rule of wrestling school Brandon, don't ever admit to being the teacher's relative.
Brandon just stared at him, oblivious to the glares from the people around him.
Brandon: ...Why?
Jeremy: Because now they're going to suspect nepotism at every corner. Now I'm gonna have to push you even harder so we both don't look bad.
Finally Brandon took note of the people around him, all of them giving him the evil eye. This was a new thing for everyone, and even though with the people in charge it was fairly obvious playing favorites wasn't in the cards, they didn't know that, couldn't know it, and so the obvious threats to their manhood took over. He sighed. It was gonna be a long couple of months.
Brandon: ...Oh.
[The Young Gun chuckled to himself before pulling a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge by the lockers and heading over to the weight room. He put the bottle down by the bike machine, doing some final stretches before climbing onto the machine and starting it up. It seems like everyone had their own ritual to get ready for a big match, and Brandon had a pretty big one to gear up for. Some people went across the world to the spot of a favorite memory, some people focused themselves by doing other things, enjoying life before worrying about the big day, some people -claiming to have the heart of a lion but couldn't even be bothered to show up in the months since a certain blonde had defeated them in that ring- seemingly did nothing at all. Brandon chose to come here. To the place where it started, to remind himself what he'd been, how he'd started out, and just how far he'd come since those early days. Caoran Lavery may think he's so big and strong and is gonna run over 'poor little Brandon' with ease, but he's going to learn fairly quickly that it's usually the smallest dog in the yard that has the most fight.]
Bryant Tanner: Pick it up, Young!
Brandon: Ugh!
Brandon let out a loud grunt as he glanced up at the man in the ring -a man he'd known since he was five years old, his best friend Adrian's older brother Bryant, the man who just so happened to own the school he was now a part of- as he did his tenth push up and jumped to his feet, desperate to try to catch up to the rest of the class who were already tagging the other side of the room as they ran drills. He wasn't angry at Bryant for the punishment, it had been his own fault. He had mis-timed a move, his third in a matter of minutes and his fourth or fifth time that day making a mistake, and they had made him pay for it. His only gripe was that they were making everybody pay for it instead of just him, which certainly wouldn't win him any friends in the class. But he understood. They had to be like this to push any thoughts of being too lenient on him, of coddling him because he was family. And he was a-okay with that. He didn't want to be coddled, didn't want his hand held. If he made it, he wanted to say it was because HE did it, not because anyone took pity on him, or because of his connections. So despite how much like jelly his legs felt, how ragged his breath came, he pushed on, rushing to hit that other wall before flopping onto the mat for another set of push ups before charging forward to hit the opposite wall once more.
Finally, after what felt like a million years, a whistle blew, signaling everyone to stop where they were. Brandon flopped onto the mat, his face hugging the warm feel of the material underneath him.
Bryant: Okay everyone, that's it for today. Good job, go hit the showers!
Someone kicked Brandon lightly in the side, an 'accident' as the group of students got up and trudged off to the locker rooms. Brandon waited till everyone had left before pushing himself up to his knees and dragging himself to his feet. He noticed Bryant standing in front of him but didn't say anything, trying to catch his breath.
Bryant: You okay, Bran?
Brandon: ...Yeah... 'm fine.
Bryant: Good. I just wanted to say you're doing good, keep it up.
Brandon gave the man who was as much his older brother as he was his friend Adrian's an incredulous look.
Brandon: ...You're joking right? I was screwing up all over the place!
Bryant: We all make mistakes.
Brandon: Your mistakes don't make an entire group of meathead wrestling school students want to pound your face into a wall.
He said with a sarcastic tone, shaking his head.
Bryant: Oh come on, that's not true! Adrian doesn't hate you.
Brandon: One person! Awesome. I'm so relieved.
He stared back at his 'teacher,' who just shook his head with a light chuckle.
Bryant: Well look at it this way. You know what you're doing wrong now. So fix it and we won't have to make them hate you, and then they'll stop hating you.
Brandon: ...Easier said than done.
Bryant: Don't I know it? But really man, you're doing fine. I know we have to push you like this and I don't like it, but I really think it'll help you and Adrian as much as it does everyone. You're a student. You're ALLOWED to make mistakes now. All a mistake costs you now is a couple angry glares and some drills. But you leave here and you do those things...? You're gonna lose more than a couple potential friends, y'know?
Brandon sighed, both from still trying to catch his breath and because he did know. Bryant was right. This was good for him, no matter how much his body said otherwise. He'd learn, he'd get better, or he'd die trying. That was what he said to himself when he first started and that was what he reaffirmed right then in his mind.
Brandon: You're right.
Bryant: I'm always right, Bran. You should know this by now.
Bryant gave a wry grin, Brandon just rolled his eyes with a chuckle.
Bryant: Now go get cleaned up, hell starts again tomorrow.
Brandon: Yeah, yeah.
Bryant patted Brandon on the back as the latter grabbed his towel and walked off to the locker room, hoping most of the people had already gone home so he could go die in the hot tub for a bit.
Brandon: Ugh!
Brandon let out a loud grunt as he glanced up at the man in the ring -a man he'd known since he was five years old, his best friend Adrian's older brother Bryant, the man who just so happened to own the school he was now a part of- as he did his tenth push up and jumped to his feet, desperate to try to catch up to the rest of the class who were already tagging the other side of the room as they ran drills. He wasn't angry at Bryant for the punishment, it had been his own fault. He had mis-timed a move, his third in a matter of minutes and his fourth or fifth time that day making a mistake, and they had made him pay for it. His only gripe was that they were making everybody pay for it instead of just him, which certainly wouldn't win him any friends in the class. But he understood. They had to be like this to push any thoughts of being too lenient on him, of coddling him because he was family. And he was a-okay with that. He didn't want to be coddled, didn't want his hand held. If he made it, he wanted to say it was because HE did it, not because anyone took pity on him, or because of his connections. So despite how much like jelly his legs felt, how ragged his breath came, he pushed on, rushing to hit that other wall before flopping onto the mat for another set of push ups before charging forward to hit the opposite wall once more.
Finally, after what felt like a million years, a whistle blew, signaling everyone to stop where they were. Brandon flopped onto the mat, his face hugging the warm feel of the material underneath him.
Bryant: Okay everyone, that's it for today. Good job, go hit the showers!
Someone kicked Brandon lightly in the side, an 'accident' as the group of students got up and trudged off to the locker rooms. Brandon waited till everyone had left before pushing himself up to his knees and dragging himself to his feet. He noticed Bryant standing in front of him but didn't say anything, trying to catch his breath.
Bryant: You okay, Bran?
Brandon: ...Yeah... 'm fine.
Bryant: Good. I just wanted to say you're doing good, keep it up.
Brandon gave the man who was as much his older brother as he was his friend Adrian's an incredulous look.
Brandon: ...You're joking right? I was screwing up all over the place!
Bryant: We all make mistakes.
Brandon: Your mistakes don't make an entire group of meathead wrestling school students want to pound your face into a wall.
He said with a sarcastic tone, shaking his head.
Bryant: Oh come on, that's not true! Adrian doesn't hate you.
Brandon: One person! Awesome. I'm so relieved.
He stared back at his 'teacher,' who just shook his head with a light chuckle.
Bryant: Well look at it this way. You know what you're doing wrong now. So fix it and we won't have to make them hate you, and then they'll stop hating you.
Brandon: ...Easier said than done.
Bryant: Don't I know it? But really man, you're doing fine. I know we have to push you like this and I don't like it, but I really think it'll help you and Adrian as much as it does everyone. You're a student. You're ALLOWED to make mistakes now. All a mistake costs you now is a couple angry glares and some drills. But you leave here and you do those things...? You're gonna lose more than a couple potential friends, y'know?
Brandon sighed, both from still trying to catch his breath and because he did know. Bryant was right. This was good for him, no matter how much his body said otherwise. He'd learn, he'd get better, or he'd die trying. That was what he said to himself when he first started and that was what he reaffirmed right then in his mind.
Brandon: You're right.
Bryant: I'm always right, Bran. You should know this by now.
Bryant gave a wry grin, Brandon just rolled his eyes with a chuckle.
Bryant: Now go get cleaned up, hell starts again tomorrow.
Brandon: Yeah, yeah.
Bryant patted Brandon on the back as the latter grabbed his towel and walked off to the locker room, hoping most of the people had already gone home so he could go die in the hot tub for a bit.
[As he pushed himself to go harder and faster on the bike he thought about how right Bryant was. Bryant and Jeremy had been ridiculously hard on him and Adrian, but in the end that had been a good thing. It took Brandon a little longer than it did Adrian, but eventually he too found his calling, hit that right spot at that right time and took the world by storm. He thought about how much things had changed since then, since even a year ago, when things had seemed the bleakest, to what they were now. It was practically a complete flip flop, what was old was new again, everything that had been wrong had been seemingly fixed, and it all seemingly came to a head in one moment...]
Bane walks over to Young, grabbing his head and pulling him up before lifting him onto his shoulders, walking over to the steel chairs and standing in front of them, adjusting himself slightly and carefully looking down at the seats, hoping to win the match with the Scales of Justice! Young struggles violently, struggling so hard that he manages to slide over Bane’s back, twisting around. Bane turns around and Young quickly leaps up, hitting a dropkick that sends Bane backwards before tripping over the steel chairs. Young grabs one of the chairs, folding it and placing it over Bane’s chest, dragging him towards the lower-left turnbuckle. Young stomps on Bane’s chest, stepping over him and climbing onto the second rope before pulling himself up to the top rope. Without a thought of stabilizing himself, Young leaps off, corkscrewing in mid-air before driving his feet down into the steel chair over Bane’s chest with the Disasterpiece! Young quickly pushes the chair away and covers Bane!
1…..2…..3!!!
Walt: “Here is your winner…AND NEW HARDKORE CHAMPION! BRANDON! YOOUUUUUUNNNGGGGGG!!!”
1…..2…..3!!!
Walt: “Here is your winner…AND NEW HARDKORE CHAMPION! BRANDON! YOOUUUUUUNNNGGGGGG!!!”
[The elation he felt that night was through the roof. Everything -well, almost everything- he'd worked towards had all come to fruition in that one moment, those three seconds etched into history forever. The final piece of the puzzle wouldn't come until that night on the boardwalk with a certain blonde. He'd won one other title before it, but this was a different feeling, as while that title was special, the company he'd won it in hadn't even shown the entire match it was such a disaster. This was special. This was live and on tv for every SINGLE one of his doubters, his haters, to see right in front of their very own eyes that he was for real. And no matter how many times guys like Caoran Lavery will try to denounce it, try to put it down like Bane wasn't a 'worthy opponent' the fact remains right on video tape. Both men put their hearts into their work and while Bane may have his faults he was good enough to beat the last person to hold that title, which made Brandon beating Bane just as special.
It takes skill to win a title no matter WHO you are, it takes MORE than just skill to keep it. But he wasn't defending his newly won title at Prestige, a fact that made him a little sad until his opponent opened his mouth and made him realize that even though he was a fighting champion and would defend against anyone at any time, this arrogant jackass needed to be taught a lesson in humility before he got a shot at ANY gold. So Brandon decided right then and there that he wasn't going to let this prick get one up on him. Caoran Lavery wanted Brandon to be his second victory, a 'public execution' of what Caoran could do with all the super-cool moves that he made sure to name off so we wouldn't forget them anytime soon, as if rambling them off made it oh-so-certain he was going to be able to DO those moves with ease to his next opponent. No, he was sorry to say he was going to have to disappoint mister Lavery.
As Raptor Jesus as his witness, Brandon Young wasn't going to be Caoran Lavery's second win. He was going to be his first loss!
----------------------------**ß**----------------------------
[We open up at a local coffee shop, where we find Brandon Young sat at a table with a woman with atomically-bright red hair, a woman who was like a sister to him, who was also the wife of his best friend Adrian, and, funny enough, the cousin of his new love. Rachel Tanner nodded at Brandon while she took a drink from a coffee cup, as he turned and looked at the camera.]
Brandon: And now, a reading from Caoran Lavery's journal.
The Young Gun holds up a notebook with a hello kitty sticker on the front. He opens it to a page in the back and begins reading.
Brandon: Dear Journal, today I was a pompous arrogant douchebag, and my camera man who stole from a woman I treated like shit who was just doing her job was kind of a dolt. Today we were kidnapped by hillfolk never to be seen again. It was the best day ever!
Rachel: Hy-larious.
[Huzzah for Firefly references! The Young Gun smirks a bit as he sets the 'journal' down on the table.]
Rachel: So, Bacon! Before you get too far into making this guy look like the fuckwit he is... You and Nat, eh?
[Brandon smiles a bit sheepishly as he drinks from his cup.]
Brandon: Mmhmm.
Rachel: Well shit, it took you long enough!
[Brandon just shakes his head and chuckles.]
Brandon: It did, eheh. I'm just glad things finally went the way I hoped...
[He sighs happily, lost in a daydream momentarily.]
Rachel: Yeah, well, that overgrown piece of shit's lucky that it's not me getting into the ring with him instead of you. That bullshit he said about Nat... I'd take his ass the way of Rachel Cole, except I'd not let the ref pull me off this go 'round.
Brandon: Oh yeah, he's gonna pay for that shit.
[He rolls his eyes before glancing back at the camera.]
Brandon: Caoran Lavery-- Wait wait wait, let's do this right.
[Brandon stands up from his chair, moving into the middle of the coffee shop speaking out to the people watching.]
Brandon: For those who don't know me my name is Brandon Young, and I am the light in the great darkness, the great Hispanic Hope, your savior for all that is good and right in the world of professional wrestling.
[He glances back at Rachel, ignoring the blank stares of the other customers for a moment.]
Brandon: Was that pretentious enough?
Rachel: You forgot to work in being the grand poo-bah of something.
Brandon: Oh yeah. I am the Grand poo-bah of Hardkore wrestling in EUW. In this time of uncertainty so many of you have fallen into despair, lost in your sadness for when wrestling wasn't full of incompetent asshats who claim that vanity and narcissism have no place in the wrestling world while being pretty much the POSTER BOY for both of these problems. But fear not, for I am here now, and I will save all your souls!
Male customer: Who the fuck are you?
Brandon: Last time out, I gained the love and affection of a woman -something Caoran Lavery clearly knows nothing about- and then with said new love went on to pummel a couple'a Irish pricks into oblivion. I won't waste your time naming off all the different ways we did so with our finishing moves because really, who does that sort of shit?
Other Male Customer: ...No really. Who the fuck ARE you?!
Brandon: Show of hands. How many of you know who Caoran Lavery is?
[The entire coffee shop stares at Brandon as one, completely silent, unmoving, nobody raising their hands.]
Brandon: Thank you for proving my point.
[And with that, he sits back down at his table.]
Brandon: See in your fantasy world where you're just the greatest thing in the history of everything ever, where you look down upon everyone despite only ever having one match in this company, it might be one thing to walk up to a bunch of different people on the street, ask them a couple questions about wrasslin' and get the response you're looking for. But here in the real world, while there are millions and millions of fans who watch us do what we do, there are also so many more who DON'T. Who think what we do is a sideshow carnival act. And trust me when I tell you you are more likely to run into those who DON'T watch it over those who do.
So you'll forgive me if I'm not really all that bothered by your little 'man on the street' video or the people in it. If all you can come up with against me is my budding relationship with Natalie then I think it's fairly obvious that you and your little friends on the street don't actually have anything on me at all!
By the way, love does not equal 'boning.' Sure it's a part of it, a fun sexy part, but that's not all there is to it. I know it's hard to wrap your tiny little chauvinistic brain around how you could be with a woman and not fuck their brains out on a nightly basis, but some things can't be rushed. She's not that type 'a gal and I'm not pushing her into it.
[He shakes his head, pushing his hair back out of his face as he takes a drink from his cup.]
Brandon: For someone who talks about how terrible it is to be 'ignorant' you sure do a fantastic job of being so. You act like you've studied me but then all you seem to have to tell me is where my focus should or shouldn't be. Hah. Lemme put it clear to ya, 'boyo.'
...My focus is EXACTLY where it should be.
See me and Natalie, that's a thing, a very important, special thing that's new and exciting and I love every second of it, but neither of us are so focused on each other that we would ever forget to do our JOBS! Because this is more than just a job to us, more than just a career to us, this- stepping into that ring and wowing those fans, winning despite every single person telling you you can't... that's a way of LIFE for us! I spend plenty of time focusing on wrestling, but I'm also a human being with a real life, and so I have to spend time on that too. But when it comes time for me to step into that ring, my mind is one-hundred-and-fifty percent focused on the person put in front of me.
Don't ever doubt my focus, Caoran.
[He stares at the camera.]
Brandon: As for the rest of your rant, spitting truth and whatnot. You've had one match. All you're spitting right now is hearsay. You THINK you can do this, you think you can go in and crush and maim everyone because you did it to Dr Whatever. I'm not him, Caoran. I'm me. Brandon Anthony Young. And unlike your first opponent, I actually give a damn about my being in this match. You're right, this is a test for me. My biggest? I dunno about that. You act like I've only beaten nobodies and never was's like you claim Bane to be, but the last time I checked mister "I've watched your history" I beat the runner up in the big World Title #1 contenders rumble, CLEAN, in the middle of the ring. Not only that, but that same match featured a former World Champion, EUW Hall of famer or should-be-hall-of-famer-if-he-isn't The Scorpion. That ain't "nobodies." Those are two very big somebodies.
And *I* beat them. With only my hands and my feet and my Raptor-Jesus given talent to do so.
The same talent I'm gonna use to beat YOU, by the way.
[He takes another long drink off his coffee, finishing it off before giving a smile to the camera.]
Brandon: You want truth? The truth is you're nothing special, Caoran. I don't mean talent-wise, talent wise you've got that in spades. This ain't gonna be an easy match for me in any terms. But in the grand scheme of wrestling, all you are is another muscle-bound meathead who's way too big for his britches. Some arrogant jackass who thinks because he's got giant arms and he beat ONE GUY that he's unstoppable when the TRUTH is... he isn't.
I'M going to stop you, Caoran. Because I'm a very stubborn man. You'll knock me down, sure. You may even kick my ass, hell that's probably likely. But the thing is? No matter how hard you knock me down? I will get back up. Ragdoll me around the ring, I will get back up. Squeeze the life outta me with your large roided up arms until I can't breath... I will GET back up. I don't care what it takes, I will keep fighting and keep fighting and keep fighting until one of us, preferably YOU, can't fight anymore.
THAT's who Brandon Young is. You think you know who I am? You have no goddamn clue!
But I'm gonna show you. I'm gonna show you, and the world by doing the one thing you think is impossible for anyone to do.
I'm gonna kick your teeth down your sanctimonious throat, and walk out with MY HAND raised in victory!
Brandon: And THAT'S the truth.
[Fade.]