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Ocean Eyes - Printable Version

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Ocean Eyes - Centurion - 11-30-2019 08:48 AM



(He wasn’t going to admit it…but Centurion missed being a high roller.

He doesn’t miss the days of fake people fawning over him, and he doesn’t miss the binge drinking and waking up in hotel rooms that weren’t his own, but he did miss the fun and the comradery. More importantly, he missed being carefree. He missed the ability to just relax and have fun without worrying about the stressors of life killing him.

That’s why this Monte Carlo trip was so important. No wrestling, no business, no blackmail – just Centurion and his friends having fun and being themselves.

We open up on the balcony of Centurion’s suite. It is nighttime in Monte Carlo, and Centurion is overlooking the cityscape. He is smoking a clove cigarette as he leans against the railing of the balcony. From behind him steps Genevieve Tate, wearing a robe and holding a glass of red wine. She wraps one arm around Centurion and places her head on Centurion’s shoulder, looking in the same direction as he is.)


Genevieve: Have you heard from Ruby?

Centurion: Yeah. She got back safe. She needed to take care of some stuff involving Vita. I don’t know the full details, and quite frankly, I don’t know if I want to.

Genevieve: Do you have a thing for her?

(Centurion arches his eyebrows as he glances over his shoulder with a confused look on his face.)

Genevieve: It’s ok. She’s cute.

Centurion: Romantically? Of course not. It’s not that at all. It’s…

(Centurion takes another drag of his cigarette and turns his head back to the cityscape as he tries to find the words to describe what he’s thinking.)

Centurion: Ruby is what I wanted to be when I first joined this business. She’s pure. She fights evil and does good. I tired to follow that same path…but things changed. I fell into a dark path. Ruby reminds me of the positive still in this world. I think we all need light like that in our lives.

(Genevieve squeezes tighter around Centurion waist as she takes a sip of her wine.)

Genevieve: You’re a good man, Andy. I don’t know what you did in the past, but I know you now…and I know you’re a good person. At some point, you need to forgive yourself.

(This isn’t the first time Centurion has heard these words, and he doubts it will be the last, either. Centurion just takes a deep breath before taking another drag of his cigarette. Genevieve, sensing Centurion’s uncomfortability, changes the subject.)

Genevieve: When are you going to South Africa?

Centurion: Saturday night. I have no reason to spend too much time there. I don’t have any connections in the city, and I don’t need to get myself ready for any reason. It’s just “The Hammer”. This should be a cakewalk.

Genevieve: Isn’t that what you said at the poker tables tonight?

Centurion: Pfft. I held my own. I didn’t lose that much.

(Without hesitation, Genevieve lets go of Centurion and reaches down the front of her dress and pulls out a small notebook. She flips to a page and reads it.)

Genevieve: You’ve lost €3,647.

(Centurion’s eyes grow wide. He stops for a few seconds before turning around to face Genevieve, his back against the balcony railing.)

Centurion: You’ve been keeping track of my losings?

Genevieve: Ruby gave this to me. Said it would help you “keep things in perspective.”

(Centurion simultaneously smiles and shakes his head. He takes one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray next to the door.)

Centurion: This is way different. Poker is mostly luck. You have the play the cards that are dealt to you. You can manipulate things with the way you play and the way you bet, but in the end, if you don’t have the cards, you’re probably not going to win. In the wrestling ring, the person with the most skills is 90% likely to win.

Genevieve: 90%?

Centurion: Shit can always happen, but the underdog at least needs to be able to hold their own in the ring in order to pull off an upset. This asshole I’m facing, he’s completely devoid of talent. This is the biggest mismatch of talent on the entire card.

Genevieve: Will this be more difficult than your match against Mastermind?

(Ah, now there is a good question. Centurion ponders for a second as Genevieve takes a sip of her wine, smiling in the meantime. Centurion thinks back to his match against Mastermind – the weird and wacky graveyard match. He said it would be easy, and it was. But was it harder than what he’s to expect from Kris The Hammer?)

Centurion: Honestly…it will probably be easier than Mastermind. Mastermind is a waste of a roster space, no doubt, but he’s at least been around long enough to put on a decent match. He knows some stuff, even if it doesn’t work. The Hammer…there’s nothing there. He’s like a “create a wrestler” in a video game that you forget to input moves into.

(Genevieve finishes her glass of wine and sets it down on the balcony table. She turns and opens the glass sliding door to the bedroom, and turns her head back to Centurion.)

Genevieve: Don’t be out too late.

(Genevieve steps into the suite, and as she does, she drops her robe onto the floor, exposing her bare back to Centurion.)

-------Can’t Stop Thinking Of Your Diamond Mind------

Ladies and gentlemen…I have a confession to make. I’ve been exposed. It’s true…

I am in love with Antony.

I can’t help it. The way he stands confidently even thought he doesn’t do anything. His sunglasses that he wears to make himself look mysterious. His overall cockiness and demeanor.

He’s right. He’s all I can think about. I lay awake at night, with my thoughts haunting me. I know we can never be together, and my heart breaks so. Oh, how I wish for a different life! Maybe then we could be together…

…ARE YOU THE DUMBEST MOTHER FUCKER ALIVE?!

Antony shows up to the XWF, talks a bunch of shit, I respond, and his conclusion is that I’m helplessly in love with the bastard? This is why nobody takes you seriously! You act like this cool manager with a team of badasses behind you, but you say such INCREDIBLY STUPID SHIT on a daily basis. You constantly prove that you have no knowledge of the XWF or it’s history, but lately, with all the dumbassery that falls out of your mouth, I question whether you have any knowledge of professional wrestling at all.

Antony, even if I were into dudes, I wouldn’t have a thing for you. Your manipulation wouldn’t sit well in my house, and your constant gaslighting makes you look like a psychopath…or a Men’s Rights Activist. Though, to be fair, those are the same thing.

You don’t want me to talk about you anymore, Antony? Fine. I won’t. I’ll completely ignore you from this point on. I’ll give you exactly what you want, and frankly, what you deserve…irrelevancy.

Instead, I’ll focus on Kris, who “proved me wrong” this week. See, I have always accused Kris of having someone write his promos for him, or at the very least, give him notecards. On more than one occasion, it was clear that it was his manager who did that, but this week, in his “closing argument”, if you will, he wanted to do it all by himself. He stood in front of the camera on his own, and spoke. And yet, his promo was already written for him. How do I know that?

BECAUSE I WROTE THE FUCKING PROMO! In order to prove to me and the world at large that Kris is an “original thinker” capable of coming up with his own ideas, he decided to run a tape of almost everything I said about him, then replied with one or two word quips about how great he is and how wrong I am. I’m sure he and his buddies are in their hotel room, having a huge party, thinking they got one over on me.

Let me let you in on something, Kris – replaying someone’s words and directly responding to them isn’t even the “oldest trick in the book”. Even back in the old days, professional wrestlers had to come up with something interesting and witty on the fly to say. The only people who would replay a person’s interview or promo is someone who had literally nothing to say. Even back in the days where everyone would do their talking in the ring and not on camera, we would never think about doing that shit.

I do thank you, though. I thank you for the free publicity. I thank you for keeping my words relevant to everyone. I’m sure the five people who plan on watching your shit on the X-Channel will get a kick out of my takedowns. Maybe they’ll go back and watch footage of someone with some actual personality.

Kris, you’re a stereotype, but not in the way you’re thinking. You’re not the stereotype of a German. You don’t seem like the sauerkraut kind of guy. Maybe a stereotype of a German circa 1940, but not modern day.

No, you’re what everyone rails against when they talk about “toxic masculinity”. You puff your chest out, looking all cocky. You pick fights with people, thinking you’re this massive badass who can take down the world. You even walk around with a tool – in your case, a hammer – to let people know that you not only want to break skulls, but you also want to build something with your bare hands. But the moment you run up against someone like me? When you get called out on your bullshit and exposed as the loser you are, what do you do?

“Whaa! Centurion’s bullying me! He’s being so mean!”

You’re every schoolyard bully who gets pushed into the sand and immediately tells their parents. You’re every Karen or Becky who goes on a racist tirade and calls the cops after being slapped. You’re every drunk douchebag in a bar who drinks one too many Jagerbombs and grabs the waitresses ass, and the moment you get shoved, you need to grab your boys to fight for you.

I called out Melanie Childs in order to make a statement, but come to find out, I’ve actually been more impressed with her than I have been with you. Not just with her in ring skills, but with her ability to speak. She’s fucked in the head, but at least she knows it, and she uses that to her advantage.

You? You pretend to be the cool and calm one, but you manage to say a lot of words without saying anything at all. When you do talk, and when you do attempt to say something of value, you completely stumble all over yourself, getting your facts wrong and making you look like a complete idiot.

For instance, you claim you “studied me” and you know “everything about me.” You said you know “where I have gone over the years.” Your words. And yet, just prior to that, you say I shouldn’t act superior over people because I don’t currently have the Universal Title, but that I feel that way because I’m a “former Universal Champion.” Again, your words.

If you’ve studied anything over the course of the last…ever, you’ll know that the most commonly used insult against me is the fact that, in my 18 years in the XWF, I’ve never held the Universal Title. It’s my one blemish. Hell, Fuzz dedicated an entire promo to it once. There’s a Facebook group called “We’re former Universal Champions and Centurion is not.” It’s run by Aidan Collins. Moderated by James Raven. Steve Jason sends me screenshots. Moving on. ‘’

If you can’t even get that one basic fact about me correct, then it’s clear you know absolutely nothing about me. You just have a few random, generic insults you use for every wrestler, probably on note cards, and you fill in the blanks whenever your next opponent is announced.

I don’t feel like I am above “everyone”, Kris, though I do acknowledge that I am one of the best wrestlers in the business today, and even you have to agree with that statement. There are plenty of wrestlers out there that I don’t feel any sense of superiority over. Hell, even people I don’t LIKE – Vita Valenteen, Noah Jackson, Fuzz – I can admit are skilled in the ring and could potentially beat me if I don’t come with my A game. I do know, however, that when I’m at my best, I can beat anyone, and that includes Unknown Soldier and Lux. I will not apologize for having confidence in my abilities, but I also accept that on a random Wednesday Night, Ruby could beat me fair and square in the ring. Or Sarah Lacklan. Or any number of folks who have yet to get their opportunity to shine.

No, Kris, I don’t feel like I’m above everyone…I know I’m above YOU. Because all those names I rattled off, even those with whom I have deep resentment for, have skills in the ring. You don’t, and the fact that you had to make it a point to correct me and tell me you were professionally trained is, quite frankly, sad. Your trainer shouldn’t work in this industry.

I began this journey giving you some friendly advice for your career, and I’ll end it doing the same – leave. Quit the wrestling business. There is absolutely no hope for you. I used to think it was your manager holding you down, but seeing you on your own, it’s clear to me that the problem is you. You’re a talentless hack. You think you’re great because you signed a contract and daddy says your special, but you’re completely delusional. You’re not my peer. Not even close. In fact, you not only disrespect me, but you disrespect a whole generation of wrestlers by making that claim. You don’t get respect just because you demand it. You earn it, and so far, you haven’t earned shit.

If this is personal for you, Kris, then fine. Make it personal. I hope it is, honestly. I hope you’re boiling with rage, thinking about me and this match. I hope you have my picture on a dart board somewhere to help release your anger. I hope you storm down that ring, thinking I’m the worst human being alive, and every single decision you’ve made in your life has lead you to this moment.

Me? I couldn’t be bothered. You’re just another hot shot rookie looking at jumping to the front of the line and get what you don’t deserve. Your run in this company will be completely unmemorable, M. Night Shammalamma Von Bonn (cheers, Ned). You will fade away as quickly as you got here, and all you’ll become is a trivia question. I’m going to beat you so bad, you’ll be looking for a place to hide in Argentina. Say “hi” to your great granpapa for me. Let him know we’re still looking for him for what he did in Dachau. You’ll have plenty of time to catch up after you meet your…


FINAL FANTASY!!!