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Author Topic: You Never Forget Your First (vs Lazarus)  (Read 360 times)

Lucy Blaylock

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You Never Forget Your First (vs Lazarus)
« on: September 21, 2014, 10:48:28 AM »
You wanna talk about history.

That's cool. I'm a bit of a history buff, myself.

I beat you, Corey. One on one. That was a pretty big deal. First time we ever squared off, as you made everyone well aware.

And I walked out with the W. The only thing that mattered, huh?

Perhaps you've not fuckin' paid attention to a single thing I've said in the past few years, Lazarus. Maybe back then you were too busy slipping TMB a few roofies, to really understand me, but my message doesn't change.

I'm not here for money. I'm not only here for victories.

I'm here for accomplishment. I'm here for RESPECT.


The last word echoes slightly, hanging in the air for a moment.

You earned a bit from me that night. Not enough for me to admit it, mind you. Not enough for me to like you.

Everybody thought that I was gonna be to wrapped up in Donovan King and the World Heavyweight Champion to give a second thought about the Hollywood Kid, star of The Black Circle.

Yet, after you WOKE UP you knew I wasn't looking past you.

That win? It was important for me. About as important as your win against TMB at Revolution 100.

The Centennial Show. You remember that main event, right?


Crippler chuckles a bit.

I had a bit of important win, myself. I went out there with Jonas Coleman and we tore the fucking house down. But in the end? Only one of us could win the biggest main event in Revolution's history.

And it was me.

So yeah. While you were dosing dudes and coming up short against me, I was staking my claim to the number one contendership to the World Heavyweight Championship.

But, and I hate to admit this, you paid me back. My head got a little big, and it cost me.

You beat me, Corey. Don't matter how you did it, how much Ron Barker helped, but you did it.

And you were the first man to pin these shoulders of mine to the canvas here in SHOOT.

So my big victory against the up and coming Corey Lazarus? Meant very little compared to the milestone you achieved.

You earned it. I may not like it, but you did.

And I may not like to admit, but my respect grew a little bit more for you at that point.

Still not enough for me to like you.

Fast forward a couple years, Hollywood. Our careers went in seperate paths. You, whether you meant to or not, followed in my footsteps and competed in the Sin City Championship Series.

I main evented several pay-per-views, all in contention for the World Heavyweight Championship.

Neither of us were successful in our title bids. But fuck, it happens.

Fast forward a bit more.

We find ourselves coming back to the SHOOT Project, just like many others.

You repeated some history, Corey, winning the Iron Fist Championship. You beat....what's his face. The Preacher that nobody has heard from since.

No, that was an impressive victory.

Then I shock the room at large by showing up, answering Dave Marz's open challenge.

One of the toughest men in SHOOT history...and I made him give up.

Iron Fist Champion, Corey Lazarus.

Rule of Surrender Champion, Lunatikk Crippler.

We started the resurrection of SHOOT pretty parallel.

And we kept on that track as two weeks later, we both LOST our titles to a couple of newcomers.

Did you....did you kind of feel like the old guard, on the way out, Corey?

Course not. You're Corey fucking Lazarus. You probably went to a club, talked a great game, gave a few fingerquotes, and tried to get out of paying your tab. You still owe me three bucks for that beer your drank three months ago, by the way. Chuck wanted me to remind you of that.

And just to show how parallel we were really running, Core, the next time you were booked, you had a chance to become World Tag Team Champion once again.

And so did I.

I'm gonna just say it out loud. We're both thinkin' it. We both feel it.

I fucking HATED the idea of being your partner.

BUT


Crippler clears his throat.

I handled it all wrong. There. Be the bigger man and all that crap, right?

My bad, buddy ol' pal.

But put yourself in my shoes. I'm scheduled to fight the friends of my best friend. And I'm given a partner, and I'm sorry again, that I just flat out don't fuckin' like.

But you and I? We got the job done. You took the pinfall, and we became Tag Team Champs. Hell, the people even gave us a name, even though I'm not entirely thrilled being called Hollywood Hardcore.

So everything should have been cool with us, yes? We're on top, and teams are practically and nearly literally, KILLING each other. All to get noticed.

But it wasn't. Phone tag commenced, and there were times that neither one of us wanted to be around the other. Yeah, you're guilty of it, too.

But there was one thing, Corey, that really stuck in my craw.

When Jonny Johnson forfeited his spot in Master of the Mat to me, that was actually a good moment. I was going into the most prestigious tournament in the business today.

And then came Riley. And Wailer. And Quinn. That ugly fucker Quinn.

And I got my ass beat a little. Would have been worse had Vermont's Finest not been on hand that night.

But there was a question that hung in the air like an Azrael Goeren fart in church.

Where was Corey Lazarus?

Why didn't Corey Lazarus come help his partner?

Dude, at first, I didn't care. Then the questions came. From fans. From people at the bar. From the other boys in the locker room. From Loco's mom. Seriously, I really don't know how she got my number, but she did.

That's when it started to annoy me. The questioning, mainly, but then it started to dawn on me that they were fuckin' right.

You have your issues going on. Fair enough. I don't fault you too much.

But I do fault you a little bit.

That's when I went to Jason Johnson and asked for this match as soon as possible.

It's possible now.

It's possible we're going to fuck each other up to the degree that one or both of us won't be able to go out there and defend the Tag Team Titles. ANARCHY wants their rematch. Vermont's Finest wants a shot. The Scavengers are going to be targeting us soon, you know they will. You think they give a fuck if we're reading the same book, let alone on the same page? Hell, I got an email from Zex the other day, letting me know he was interested in the Tag Team gold.

This match needs to happen, Corey.

I need to respect you. To the level where I don't hate having you around.

To the point that I can MAYBE call you a friend. To the point where I can fucking trust you to have my back.

And that's why we need to beat the shit out of one another.

I gotta know, man. I gotta be able to trust you to beat on me, let alone beat on someone FOR me.

And it works the same way.

We gotta go out there and show each other that we won't quit, we won't give up, we won't stop fighting until someone claws these titles from our cold, dead hands.

And to do that, it's Trial By Combat.

So bring your fuckin' best, Corey. I'm bringin' mine.

And maybe, just maybe, at the end, we'll be proud of one another. Proud to be standing side by side.

But before we get there?

I'm gonna do what I need to do to beat you.

And not just beat you. I want to make you submit. So you know EXACTLY what I am about and EXACTLY what I'm capable of.

So you know EXACTLY that I am Lunatikk Crippler. The Whole Fucked Up Show.

Submission Specialist.

One-half of the World Tag Team Champions.

And the man who made his partner tap the fuck out.