Post by Cable Arcane on May 13, 2016 16:33:51 GMT
Growing up Cable Arcane didn’t have the usual father/son relationship. His father wasn’t abusive, not in the physical sense but he always addressed Cable with a certain amount of indifference. Indifference that fostered loathing and resentment in the heart of a young boy who would become a battle hardened man.
Three years ago his father passed away, Cable didn’t attend the wake or the funeral despite the pleas from his relatives, he instead chose to immerse himself in a dark and tortured world. He made some mistake during that time, gave his heart to someone he knew didn’t love him, it was really more of a distraction for him. For a time it worked, he didn’t think about his father, his family, his mind was only on the ring and the woman by his side…
But the past always seems to come back to haunt him. It started with his dreams, seeing his father standing over him, looking down his nose at him. He always felt larger than he really was. Then came the memories while he was trying to focus on his ring work, the look of utter disdain his father would give him with every success he attained as a child.
As a man he learned to bury his feelings, ignore them but something was dredging them back up, forcing him to remember and feel all those emotions again. He found himself now by his father’s grave, looking down at the small marker stone next to a larger head stone, the one that belonged to Cable’s sister who died when he was just a child…
That’s when everything changed in their home, that’s when his father became cold, distant, uninterested in anything involving his still living child. The man lived in his own world of darkness, blaming himself for a disease no one could have known she had but he was a master of deflection, always making Cable feel guilty for being the one who was still breathing.
”It’s been a long time… Dad.”
He hated being here, hated the lump he felt in his throat, hated that his father’s last request was to be buried next to his sister.
”I hate you… I hope you know that. I hope wherever you are, heaven, hell or just in a black abyss of nothingness. I hope you know I hate you.”
His muscles tensed up as he spoke, his words didn’t give him the relief he was hoping they would.
”You don’t deserve to buried next to her.”[/font]
His fists balled up, his nails dug into his palm. He had joined the military to honor his sister, it was her life’s dream to serve her country and when he came back there was no warm welcome, no rejoicing, only a bitter old man who refused to even look at him. When he first started wrestling it was just to hurt people, to take out his rage and aggression on whoever stood across the ring from him but as time went on he came to love it, to enjoy the thrill of competition.
”You don’t deserve a damn thing.”
But there was more it than just that, beneath the rage, the raw emotion there was always the hope for approval, that one day the bitter old man would pat him on the back and say he was proud of him.
”Everything I’ve done…”
The words were caught in his throat, he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
“Was to impress you.”
He repeated it in his head over and over again but couldn’t say it, wouldn’t say it instead he looked down his nose at the grave marker with complete and utter contempt.
”Honestly? I’m glad you’re dead.”
He spit on the marker, on his father’s name scoffing as he turned at what his mother had etched into the stone marker.
“Beloved father and husband.”
A warm breeze picked up as he made the long walk to his car. He kept his head down as he went, forcing what he was feeling back into the pit of his stomach where it belonged. His mother always told him he couldn’t live with this rage forever and he always laughed at her when she said that.
He wasn’t planning on living forver.
Three years ago his father passed away, Cable didn’t attend the wake or the funeral despite the pleas from his relatives, he instead chose to immerse himself in a dark and tortured world. He made some mistake during that time, gave his heart to someone he knew didn’t love him, it was really more of a distraction for him. For a time it worked, he didn’t think about his father, his family, his mind was only on the ring and the woman by his side…
But the past always seems to come back to haunt him. It started with his dreams, seeing his father standing over him, looking down his nose at him. He always felt larger than he really was. Then came the memories while he was trying to focus on his ring work, the look of utter disdain his father would give him with every success he attained as a child.
As a man he learned to bury his feelings, ignore them but something was dredging them back up, forcing him to remember and feel all those emotions again. He found himself now by his father’s grave, looking down at the small marker stone next to a larger head stone, the one that belonged to Cable’s sister who died when he was just a child…
That’s when everything changed in their home, that’s when his father became cold, distant, uninterested in anything involving his still living child. The man lived in his own world of darkness, blaming himself for a disease no one could have known she had but he was a master of deflection, always making Cable feel guilty for being the one who was still breathing.
”It’s been a long time… Dad.”
He hated being here, hated the lump he felt in his throat, hated that his father’s last request was to be buried next to his sister.
”I hate you… I hope you know that. I hope wherever you are, heaven, hell or just in a black abyss of nothingness. I hope you know I hate you.”
His muscles tensed up as he spoke, his words didn’t give him the relief he was hoping they would.
”You don’t deserve to buried next to her.”[/font]
His fists balled up, his nails dug into his palm. He had joined the military to honor his sister, it was her life’s dream to serve her country and when he came back there was no warm welcome, no rejoicing, only a bitter old man who refused to even look at him. When he first started wrestling it was just to hurt people, to take out his rage and aggression on whoever stood across the ring from him but as time went on he came to love it, to enjoy the thrill of competition.
”You don’t deserve a damn thing.”
But there was more it than just that, beneath the rage, the raw emotion there was always the hope for approval, that one day the bitter old man would pat him on the back and say he was proud of him.
”Everything I’ve done…”
The words were caught in his throat, he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
“Was to impress you.”
He repeated it in his head over and over again but couldn’t say it, wouldn’t say it instead he looked down his nose at the grave marker with complete and utter contempt.
”Honestly? I’m glad you’re dead.”
He spit on the marker, on his father’s name scoffing as he turned at what his mother had etched into the stone marker.
“Beloved father and husband.”
A warm breeze picked up as he made the long walk to his car. He kept his head down as he went, forcing what he was feeling back into the pit of his stomach where it belonged. His mother always told him he couldn’t live with this rage forever and he always laughed at her when she said that.
He wasn’t planning on living forver.
Last Tuesday Night didn’t go exactly as I had planned, Avery Miles tripped me up and locked me down. But I never tapped out.
I never will.
And the next time I stand across the ring from Avery Miles I promise you they will be carrying his limp body out of the arena.
But even still, I must have impressed somebody because Valentine Wrestling has saw fit to put me in a number one contendership match for the Velocity Championship. I should say I’m surprised to get this opportunity so quickly…
But I’d be lying.
See, this match, this opportunity, it’s exactly what I deserve. The kind of respect I demand from my employers. VWS knows full well who and what they have on their hands in Cable Arcane and so they are rolling out the red carpet treatment. This little triple threat match, it’s simply a formality, something the Jones’ have to do to give the semblance of fairness in the roster.
After all just handing me the World Championship would be “wrong” in the eyes of the undeserving.
So I’ll earn my keep around here, put on a little song and dance routine for the blabbering idiots in the crowd and the over confident morons in the back but everyone should know this match, my victory, it’s a foregone conclusion.
Am I looking past VWS’ first public relations nightmare in the DWI in waiting, Kellen Klein or the professional fat ass turned wannabe wrestler in “The Game?”
No, I’m not looking past them. I’m looking directly at them, watching the tapes, reading the comments from their dozens and dozens of internet fans trying to wrap my head around why VWS think’s they’re worthy of my time or this championship opportunity?
See, when I look at the two of them I don’t see the future faces of this company, I don’t see main event stars, I don’t see world champions or hall of famers, I see two bumbling idiots who won’t even be remembered come this time next year.
A couple of indy nobodies who got signed to flesh out the roster until VWS signed some real talent, talent like myself who can carry this company on my back to the pinnacle of the professional wrestling world and turn it into the juggernaut it’s destined to be.
I’m not looking past you, I’m simply telling you what you are.
The truth hurts but not as much as my boot when it cracks your skulls open and leaves you dreaming of the good old days at John Daly High School and the twelve year olds wearing your cheaply made prowrestlingtees.com shirts. I’m a star, I’m the future of this company, I’m what little pissants like you should aspire to be. I’m greatness personified.
I’m the next Velocity Champion.
And the sooner you two can get that through you thick skulls the sooner we can end this match. See if you step into my ring in my arena with any other thought in your mind besides losing as painlessly as possible then you’re in for a world of goddamn hurt. I’m not friendly, I’ve got no vested interest in putting on a good show for the live crowd. I’m stepping into the ring with a single goal and that’s win.
However I can.
If you try and fight me, if you try to stop me, if you do anything that even resembles standing in opposition of my rise to the top of this company then I will end the both of you right in the middle of my ring.
I’m really happy you got off your fat ass and tried to make something of your life James, seriously, this world is already drowning in disgusting pigs who can’t stop guzzling beer and eating food. Just look out into the crowd on any given night. But just because you stumbled your way onto a tread mill and dropped some pounds, learned how to do a moonsult and won two matches in a promotion that came and went quicker than a virgin on prom night doesn’t put you anywhere near my level.
I’m above you.
You’re presence in this match, in my ring is insulting to me. What I’ve had to do to get to where I am, the literal mountains of bullshit I’ve had to climb over, just to be put in the ring with an over confident smark fan who thinks he can compete just because he dominated his create a character mode on whatever waste of time wrestling video game inspired him to get into the ring really just pisses me off. Of the two “men” I’m facing Tuesday Night, you’re the one I want to break in half the most.
An Kellen, you may want to think about doing what you do best, get black out drunk and forget you were even supposed to be in the ring with me. You’re not a professional wrestler, you’re a side show attraction who panders to the below average IQ drones in the crowd who fantasize about throwing back a beer with you. A goddamn rodeo clown as far as I’m concerned.
Someone who deserves to be left laying in a pool of his own blood.
You’re the kind of guy I despise, more concerned with getting a cheap pop than winning a match. Instead of working on your mat skills and honing what talents you may have inside the ring you focus on improving the time it takes you to kill a thirty pack, knowing even if you lose that troglodytes in the crowd are still going to cheer your name.
Honestly? I’m looking forward to the day you get drunk enough to drive head first into a tree.
Tuesday Night, Cable Arcane cements himself as THE force in Valentine Wrestling and the two of you are going to learn the meaning of my mantra the hard way.
No Sleep.
No Rest.
No Mercy.
I never will.
And the next time I stand across the ring from Avery Miles I promise you they will be carrying his limp body out of the arena.
But even still, I must have impressed somebody because Valentine Wrestling has saw fit to put me in a number one contendership match for the Velocity Championship. I should say I’m surprised to get this opportunity so quickly…
But I’d be lying.
See, this match, this opportunity, it’s exactly what I deserve. The kind of respect I demand from my employers. VWS knows full well who and what they have on their hands in Cable Arcane and so they are rolling out the red carpet treatment. This little triple threat match, it’s simply a formality, something the Jones’ have to do to give the semblance of fairness in the roster.
After all just handing me the World Championship would be “wrong” in the eyes of the undeserving.
So I’ll earn my keep around here, put on a little song and dance routine for the blabbering idiots in the crowd and the over confident morons in the back but everyone should know this match, my victory, it’s a foregone conclusion.
Am I looking past VWS’ first public relations nightmare in the DWI in waiting, Kellen Klein or the professional fat ass turned wannabe wrestler in “The Game?”
No, I’m not looking past them. I’m looking directly at them, watching the tapes, reading the comments from their dozens and dozens of internet fans trying to wrap my head around why VWS think’s they’re worthy of my time or this championship opportunity?
See, when I look at the two of them I don’t see the future faces of this company, I don’t see main event stars, I don’t see world champions or hall of famers, I see two bumbling idiots who won’t even be remembered come this time next year.
A couple of indy nobodies who got signed to flesh out the roster until VWS signed some real talent, talent like myself who can carry this company on my back to the pinnacle of the professional wrestling world and turn it into the juggernaut it’s destined to be.
I’m not looking past you, I’m simply telling you what you are.
The truth hurts but not as much as my boot when it cracks your skulls open and leaves you dreaming of the good old days at John Daly High School and the twelve year olds wearing your cheaply made prowrestlingtees.com shirts. I’m a star, I’m the future of this company, I’m what little pissants like you should aspire to be. I’m greatness personified.
I’m the next Velocity Champion.
And the sooner you two can get that through you thick skulls the sooner we can end this match. See if you step into my ring in my arena with any other thought in your mind besides losing as painlessly as possible then you’re in for a world of goddamn hurt. I’m not friendly, I’ve got no vested interest in putting on a good show for the live crowd. I’m stepping into the ring with a single goal and that’s win.
However I can.
If you try and fight me, if you try to stop me, if you do anything that even resembles standing in opposition of my rise to the top of this company then I will end the both of you right in the middle of my ring.
I’m really happy you got off your fat ass and tried to make something of your life James, seriously, this world is already drowning in disgusting pigs who can’t stop guzzling beer and eating food. Just look out into the crowd on any given night. But just because you stumbled your way onto a tread mill and dropped some pounds, learned how to do a moonsult and won two matches in a promotion that came and went quicker than a virgin on prom night doesn’t put you anywhere near my level.
I’m above you.
You’re presence in this match, in my ring is insulting to me. What I’ve had to do to get to where I am, the literal mountains of bullshit I’ve had to climb over, just to be put in the ring with an over confident smark fan who thinks he can compete just because he dominated his create a character mode on whatever waste of time wrestling video game inspired him to get into the ring really just pisses me off. Of the two “men” I’m facing Tuesday Night, you’re the one I want to break in half the most.
An Kellen, you may want to think about doing what you do best, get black out drunk and forget you were even supposed to be in the ring with me. You’re not a professional wrestler, you’re a side show attraction who panders to the below average IQ drones in the crowd who fantasize about throwing back a beer with you. A goddamn rodeo clown as far as I’m concerned.
Someone who deserves to be left laying in a pool of his own blood.
You’re the kind of guy I despise, more concerned with getting a cheap pop than winning a match. Instead of working on your mat skills and honing what talents you may have inside the ring you focus on improving the time it takes you to kill a thirty pack, knowing even if you lose that troglodytes in the crowd are still going to cheer your name.
Honestly? I’m looking forward to the day you get drunk enough to drive head first into a tree.
Tuesday Night, Cable Arcane cements himself as THE force in Valentine Wrestling and the two of you are going to learn the meaning of my mantra the hard way.
No Sleep.
No Rest.
No Mercy.
