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Disappointed, Disgusted, and READY
03-11-2016, 12:54 AM
Post: #1
Cole Adams looks up from the television in the dingy motel room as the door opens and his manager, Francine Andrews pokes her head inside with a smile. She frowns when she notices the look of displeasure on Cole's face and enters the room. Her nose crinkles slightly at the state of the room but opts to say nothing. Pushing an empty pizza box off the couch, she sits down and looks at her Cole who has already turned back to the television. On the television is the finale of the XWF event from March 6th. Cole shakes his head in disgust.

”You know, this really makes me sick. This is what I signed up for. XWF. I had such high expectations when I signed on to join this company and like a child who has just had his beliefs about Santa Claus ripped out from under him, I see the XWF for what it is. It's a shell of what this company used to be. I remember this company when it was amazing. I was a fan... no... I was the fan. I don't know when I've been more disappointed in my entire life.” Cole says, shaking his head.

”Oh God, are we really going to do this again? Am I really going to have to listen to another 'poor, poor pitiful me' rant?” Francine asks, shaking her head.

”Look, you aren't doing me any favors by being here. I don't want you here and I sure didn't ask you to be here.” Cole tells her, as he stands up.

”You really are an ungrateful prick, you know that? Not a lot of wrestling agents would take on such a bastard of a client. The only reason your ass isn't in jail right now is because that judge owed me a favor and I saw this as a way to help out your career which was tumbling into the abyss faster than the Broncos beat the Panthers at the Superbowl.” Francine shot back.

”Let's not pretend that you did me some great favor by doing that. Don't for one second think that I don't know what you really saw in me. You are nothing more than a rookie wrestling agent who saw me as nothing more than a meal ticket. You are willing to put up with me because you know that I have what it takes to get to the top of XWF and you'll be riding my coattail when I do. I am your stepping stone into a better line of clientele. That makes you no better than the jerk off that runs this company.” Cole says, placing his arms at his chest.

”How dare you speak of Shane Carver like that? Shane Carver is a God..” Francine says, shaking her head.

”Oh that's right. You have a little thing for Shane Carver, don't you? A little puppy love, huh? Well, let me tell you something about your Prince Charming...” Cole trails off when he sees Francine move towards the door.

”Enough. I'm not going to listen to you talk shit about Shane. From the smell of you, I can tell that you haven't taken a shower yet. Go shower and put on some decent clothes. Lucky for you, the local sports radio station has agreed to book you for a segment. Let me tell you straight up. I won't be in the room with you but if you say one thing about Shane Carver, just one thing that even smells of being derogatory and I will have your balls.” Francine tells him before walking out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Cole stands up and walks into the bathroom and peels his shirt off. Standing in front of the mirror, he mimics Francine's last words to him and a smile forms at his lips. After starting his shower, he peels the rest of his clothes off and climbs into the shower. His thoughts slowly drift to the fight that sent him spiraling into the personal limbo that saw him being placed under the thumb of that sanctimonious, blonde barbie bitch. If only he had shown an ounce of self control. That was neither here nor there now; the entire point was moot. This was XWF, where the action never slows down.

”X-treme Wrestling Federation. The only place where it only takes a nice set of tits to main event our program,” Cole muttered with a scoff.

The thought occurs to him that the radio show might be a situation that might warrant summoning every ounce of self control. As bitchy and annoying as Francine was, she might have a point. There would be plenty of time to chop Shane Carver down to size in the future. There was a big difference between letting Carver know that he was there and shoving his foot up Carver's ass right from the start. Taking a deep breath, he made a vow, if only to himself, that he wouldn't rip Carver a new asshole on the radio program. As much as it pained him, deep down in his gut, he'd wear the little monkey suit and play the corporate game that Francine was so insistent that he play.

When is shower was over, he cut off the water and grabbed a towel from the nearby towel rack. Attacking his body with it, he makes sure he is nice and dry before stepping out and walking to the counter. Picking up his can of Axe, he sprays a generous amount over his chest and arms before grabbing his deodorant and swiping it under his arms a few times. He couldn't believe how the might had fallen and on that note, he was standing at the apex of the wasteland that had once been the mighty XWF. There was not a single moment of the last show that hadn't given him the urge to vomit.

Walking from the bathroom to the bed, he grabs his boxer shorts and socks and puts them on. Speaking of the urge to vomit, every time he looked at the closet door where his gray suit was hung, he felt himself getting sick to the stomach. He hated suits with a passion. The only reason he had agreed to go and get fitted for that one was because he was tired of hearing Francine bitch and moan about it. She kept saying that he needed to dress with some respect and a suit would help him keep his dignity in tact. Whatever happened to the days when whipping some ass in the ring kept your dignity level off the chart?

He had barely had time to put his suit on and get his shoes on his feet when Francine came barging in to check on his progress. A bright smile appeared on her lips and she let out a wolf whistle as she took in the sight of him, suit and all. He rolled his eyes and asked what time the show started to which she told him they needed to be there in fifteen minutes. Luckily, the radio station was only five minutes away. With no desire to sit in this flea bag any more, Cole heads to the door and walks out, slamming the door behind him. A second later, Francine opens the door and steps out herself before calling him an asshole.

Out in the parking lot, they walk to Francine's baby blue sedan and Cole gets into the passenger's seat. Cole immediately opens the glove box and takes out his green IPOD with the ear buds wound tightly around it. Unraveling the ear buds, he places them in his ears and turns on his saved playlist which includes everything from Living Color's Cult of Personality to his own theme song from Godsmack; Voodoo. Closing his eyes, he lets the music tune everything else out. Somewhere towards the beginning of Cult of Personality, he feels the car start and then slide into motion.

Towards the beginning of the next song, “The Saints Are Coming” by The Skids, he feels Francine's hand on his shoulder and she begins shaking him slightly. With a sigh, he opens his eyes and looks down at the IPOD just long enough to cut it off. Plucking the ear buds from his ear. Setting the IPOD on the seat next to him, he waits until Francine has cut the engine off before opening the door and climbing out. A few girls in their mid twenties to early thirties are hanging around outside the brick building that serves as the local sports radio station. They are all smoking cigarettes, probably interns on break.


”Can I trust you to wait out here without getting into any trouble?” Francine asks, rolling her eyes.

”Scout's honor.” Cole says, raising his hand.

”I didn't know you were a boy scout..” Francine says, her tone serious.

”And I didn't know you were retarded. Everyone makes mistakes...” Cole says, shaking his head slightly.

Francine mutters a curse word under her breath before heading towards the radio station door. Cole turns towards the girls and saunters over. Stopping a foot or so away, he asks if he can bum a cigarette from one of them. One of the girls nods her head and reaches into her purse. She hands him a cigarette and a lighter which he quickly accepts and pops the cigarette in his mouth. After lighting it, he smiles and instead of handing the lighter back, he gently slips it between the cleavage of her generous breasts that are spilling out over her low cut top. She giggles like a school girl and he winks at her.

”You look very familiar..” the girl says, fishing the lighter from between her breasts.

”Ever watch a indy wrestling company called UHW?” Cole asks, taking another drag from the cigarette.

”Holy fuck! That's where I've seen you! You are Cole Adams... The Dark Saint!” she exclaims excitedly.
”Guilty as charged.” Cole says with a smirk.

”You got screwed, man! she says shaking her head.

”You know that fucker called me back and tried to get me to go back after that shit? I told him to take UHW and shove it up his ass. Apparently, that's exactly what he did because it's not around anymore. Cole says, taking another drag.

”A few friends of mine are going clubbing tonight. You down?” she asks.

”That depends. What are the chances of me getting laid after?” Cole asks with a wink.

”Oh, I'd say you have about a three out of three chance. What do you think, girls?” the girl asked, turning to her friends who both nodded their heads in agreement.

”I'm definitely down with that. How about a name and number for you girls?” he asks.

”Sure, hold on a minute.” the girl says, flicking her cigarette out.

Once again, the girl digs into her purse. After a few moments of fishing, she takes out a small pad and pen and begins writing. The door to the radio station opens behind Cole and Francine calls for him. Ignoring her, he waits until the girl has written the information down and passes him the small slip of paper. Looking down, he smiles as he reads each name with a phone number below each one. Alicia, Erica, and Cindy. With a wink, he folds the slip of paper in half and slides it into his pocket before turning around and following Francine inside. As soon as they enter, they are accosted by a secretary who looks furious.

”There is no smoking in here!” she says sternly.

”Hey, fuck off.” he tells her before blowing a cloud of smoke in her direction.

”For crying out loud! Would you stop being an asshole and put the cigarette out?” Francine demands.

With a sigh, Cole flicks the cigarette onto the carpet which sends the secretary and Francine into another tizzy. Cole walks past Francine who is apologizing profusely to the secretary towards the room where the radio show is being broadcast. The radio personality looks up as Cole is about to open the door and holds his hand up, telling him to wait. Ignoring him, Cole opens the door and shuts it. The radio personality looks up and frowns but puts his finger to his lips, telling Cole to be silent. Slowly, Cole saunters over to the stool that is set up for guests and puts the headset on while the radio personality continues reading the latest basketball scores.

”You see, I gotta stop you right there. Does anyone even care about basketball anymore?” Cole asks, interrupting.

”Ladies and Gentlemen, if you are listening to this broadcast, this is Jeremy Ward the Professor of Sports and I have just been joined a little prematurely by professional wrestler Cole Adams. Would you mind repeating that question, Cole?” the radio personality asks.

”I see what you are doing. You have what, twenty thousand listeners and you think all twenty thousand of them muted the radio at the same time or what? The question was very simple. Who cares about basketball anymore? I mean, it's not like you have Michael Jordan or Larry Byrd on the court anymore. You've got a bunch of nobodies who will still be nobodies when their career is over. Why don't we move on to something a little more interesting? Cole asks, raising an eyebrow.

”I can't say I agree with your opinion on a great organized sport but I shouldn't be surprised. You are one of the rudest, deluded, narcissistic personalities in professional wrestling and rumor has it that now you have just made the jump from the indy scene to the big times. Is it true that you have signed with XWF?” Jeremy Ward asks.

”That's right. What can I say, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Cole says, looking through the glass window at Francine who gives him a stern look.

”Are you saying that though you haven't wrestled a single match, you already have a problem with the company?” Jeremy asks.

”You know what? No. XWF is a fine company and I'm happy to be apart of it.” Cole says, looking away from Francine and back to Jeremy.

”You know, when I booked this interview, I was afraid that our listeners would be turned off by rude language and suggestive remarks especially after your dramatic little entrance here. I have to say, though, I'm the one that is put off. I expected to see you come in here with a swagger, wearing your traditional jeans and leather vest but here you are, dressed in a suit and conducting yourself with class.” Jeremy says with disgust in his voice.

”Hey, I could come on here and say the things that I am really feeling but like you said, that would probably put off your listeners, piss my agent off to the point where she would attempt to castrate me and make some pretty big waves in the company that you were so quick to point out that I have yet to actually wrestle in.” Cole says, forcing a smile on his face.

”I can respect that, I guess. However, I'm going to do my job and push your buttons a little and see if I can get a little rise out of you. My first official question is... given your absolute disdain for authority, what are your feelings on working for Shane Carver who reportedly had never even heard of you until recently?” Jeremy asks.

”I didn't know that Shane Carver hadn't heard of me. I didn't think there was a single person on the planet that hadn't heard of me. Maybe he didn't but I think... Cole pauses and shuts his eyes for a brief second. ”No, I think Shane Carver is great at what he does and I look forward to working with him in the future.”

”That isn't what you were going to say. I think my listeners and I want to hear exactly what you were going to say.” Jeremy presses.

”Not to be a buzz kill or anything and not to quote The Rolling Stones but 'You can't always get what you want'.” Cole says with a little smirk.

”You know what? We are done here. If all I am going to get from you is a fluff piece then we are done. Thanks for stopping by.” Jeremy says.

Slowly, Cole takes the headset off and stands up. As he starts walking to the door, he pauses and looks at Francine who is gesturing for him to keep walking. When she sees that he isn't moving, she knocks on the glass window and mouths the words 'don't you dare'. Cole flashes her a smile and then slowly begins to remove his tie and suit jacket which draws the attention of Jeremy. Jeremy relays what Cole is doing to the listeners at home as Cole walks back to the stool, tieless and jacketless, and sits back down. Placing the headset back on his head, he clears his throat.

”What do you want from me, Jeremy? Huh? You want the truth? The truth is something that you can't handle. The truth is something that all of your listeners that happen to be XWF fans can't handle and the truth is something that Shane Carver sure as hell can't handle.” Cole snaps.

”Here we go!” Jeremy says, rubbing his hands together.

”Yeah, here we go. You sit there rubbing your grubby little hands together like you just hit the jackpot in Las Vegas and why? I'll tell you why, it's because you get to come here and sit in your little glass booth every day talking to people that you can't see which means that you take absolutely no accountability for whatever spews out of your mouth. You want the truth? I already warned you that you couldn't handle the truth but since you are so insistent on getting it, here it is. May your ratings shoot through the roof for this.

The fact of the matter is, I didn't sign with a wrestling company run by a competent owner. Instead, I joined a three ring circus which is run by a group of teletubies who are wandering around their offices banging into shit because they are absolutely brainless. They make the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz look like a scientist. If you think I'm singling one person out, I'm not, although Shane Carver is definitely the dumbest one of them all. I'm talking about Gladiator, Donald Trump... who by the way couldn't advise a little old lady how to get to the local supermarket... the whole group of them are a big waste of space.

Then you have an entire roster that is a joke and I am sure half of them are sleeping with the staff. Take our fearless Intercontinental Champion, Tush, who is not only in the little battle royal this Wednesday but if he wins then everyone in the battle royal loses the right to challenge for the strap for an entire thirty days. Do you want to know why that is? It's because Tush is one of the best superstars in the company and he knows that no one who has entered thus far has a chance of tossing his ass over the top rope. Do you think he was just lucky enough to get that stipulation put on the rumble? You don't think he is one of Shane Carver's little pets that had earned his reward for extra good behavior?

Well, Tush's plan would have worked. It would have went off without a hitch had I not signed with XWF. I am entering the little rumble that he put together and I don't even care if I win it or not. At this point, I have probably painted the biggest target possible on my entire body. The one thing I can damn sure guarantee is that Tush will not win that match as long as I am conscious. If I am able to get to my feet... hell, if I am able to crawl, I am going to make sure that I am the one that tosses Tush over the top rope and when he is on his feet at the ringside area, I hope that he looks up at me and our eyes lock. I want him to look into the eyes of the future Intercontinental Champion.

It won't be this week. It might not even be this month. If I have to start at the bottom and I have to work my way up then so be it. This isn't my first rodeo and I won't be doing anything that I haven't had to do for my entire life. Starting on Wednesday at Warfare, the entire XWF fan base can rise up and start to take pride in this company once again because they won't have to look forward to getting their entertainment from an ill thought out segment in which a kitten calls out the entire roster and their hopes won't have to rest on talentless bimbos with nice tits for a good show.

Let me give you an example. On Warfare, a handful of superstars will be competing in the rumble..champion included yet our fearless champion isn't willing to put the belt on the line. This is a glorified number one contenders match and I think the fans have seen enough of that for an entire lifetime. Like I said, if I don't win the rumble then my path to the Intercontinental title will be long are arduous and you can bet that Shane Carver will do anything to keep from having an Anarchist like me as a champion but when I do, I'm going to change the face of XWF forever because I am going to put my belt on the line every single Warfare, every pay-per-view, and every Shove It Weekend in between.

In fact, I'm going to make this a little better. Shades of Stone Cold Steve Austin, one of the greatest wrestlers in Professional Wrestling history, when I win the Intercontinental Championship, I am going to make Shane Carver come to the ring and put it around my waist himself. I've saved a company before when it's destruction was imminent and I'm going to do the very same thing one more time when I save the XWF from Shane Carver and the rest of his little butt buddies who are much more interested in kissing ass than kicking it. The revolution begins immediately and ends in the distant future when I stand in the middle of the ring as the XWF World Champion. Until that happens, sit back and enjoy the ride because like the XWF slogan says...the action Never Slows Down. Who Dat!!”
Cole says before taking the headset off and dropping it on the table.

Before Cole can leave, Alicia, the woman who had given him the slip of paper, rushes into the room and tells Jeremy that the switchboards are going off the hook. A smirk comes across Cole's face as he bends down and picks up his jacket and tie, slinging them both over his shoulder. Without another word, he leaves the radio station and walks past an irate Francine towards the exit.

[Image: 11hgimf.jpg]
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