Post by joe on Dec 13, 2013 13:51:42 GMT -5
“Real moms like you care about their little ones. So it’s important to make sure they get enough nutrition.”
Joe groaned and changed the channel, banishing the images of children feigning joy and dancing with juice boxes.
“-nly way to make sure that your family knows how much you care. That’s why this holiday season; make sure you put your trust in America’s number one brand of laundry detergent.”
A low growl of annoyance escaped from Joe’s throat as he once again changed the channel.
“The lowliest donation you can give is akin to the lowliest praise you can give our almighty-”
Frustrated, Joe finally hit the power button on the remote control and the image on the screen of the small TV slimmed down to a white horizontal line that then detracted into a single point and vanished. He shoved the last bite of cheese and bologna sandwich into his mouth and leaned down to grab the soda can he had emptied. Joe rose from the folding chair he had claimed as his first piece of furniture, tossed his paper plate, and slapped on an old baseball cap.
“Guess it’s time to do this.” he said as he stepped out the door.
A short while later he was approaching the PURE headquarters building. Upon meeting the smiling man in a fancy business suit that held a hand out to greet Joe, the burly brawler immediately thought twice about his chosen attire of an old muddy brown sweatshirt and faded blue jeans. He reached out and shook the man’s hand and traded pleasantries while he was ushered inside. Finally he was brought to his destination; a small conference room with members of the press hungrily waiting for him to speak. There was uneasiness about the situation; Joe hadn't really been briefed properly. He thought it was going to be a simple one on one interview but now the thing had become a media circus. Joe took one look through the doorway and hesitated. Before he had a chance to protest, the company man was already urging him onward to the seat backed with the PURE banner and with multiple microphones set up. After resigning himself to the fact that there was no way out of this one, he solemnly made his way in and took a seat at the main focal point of the room.
Joe took a moment to clear his throat, “Ahem, hello folks. I uh, wasn't really expectin’ all this…”
The man took a seat next to him and smiled politely to the crowd of reporters, sports journalists, gossip column writers, and other various periodical and news employees. He chimed in for Joe at seeing his discomfort.
“Hello everybody, thank you for coming down to this press conference. We have quite a special opportunity presenting itself before us, PURE wrestling’s very own Joe Martinez has agreed to an interview. While normally a low key individual on his off time, he’s graciously accepted the invitation to open up to everyone about his time here at PURE. I ask that…”
The bulky bruiser mostly tuned the rest of the man’s spiel out. He began trying to decipher the various logos and names from the companies present. Every face in the crowd was turned to him, some with analytic vigor others with simple curiosity. It was hard to really discern features with the small sea of lights pointed his way. Before he knew it hands were raised and the man was prompting him to select a question.
-------------
Joe leers out into the crowd, he points to someone after some consideration. Long blonde hair mostly covers the face of the woman in a sport red coat as she begins to speak, “Yes, mister Martinez, having seemingly come out of nowhere and being on an undefeated streak many people are claiming that your success has been mostly based on luck. How do you respond?”
Joe takes a moment to ponder before rumbling a response, “This ain't just a lucky streak, it don’t work that way. You get lucky here and there, maybe I’d’ve won a match once outta luck but I find that highly doubtful. Why? ‘cause in this world you need more’n luck to prevail. This is me showin’ everybody that when I step into the ring I mean business. This has been Joe provin’ all on comers that he ain't the guy they should be sleepin’ on. I use these fists ta knock blocks’n’socks off.”
Joe mimes his next action.
“When I pick someone up, it’s so I can slam’em down with enough force to leave a crater in that ring.”
He mimics a thrown punch.
“When I swing these axes it’s so I can chop down the biggest ego in the forest. Bring down the legends and legacies that’ve built themselves up by putting others down. For anyone to claim it was luck they’d have to be the kinda person who talks without knowin’ anythin’. Anybody who’s seen my matches knows luck wasn't responsible for me openin’ up my opponents, and shuttin’ down their offensives.”
Another army of arms rise as Joe ends his response. He selects thick glasses and a bright polo shirt. The slicked back hair is a poor attempt to make the obvious youngster seem more professional. The nasally voiced rookie holds out a tape recorder and asks his question. “Your title match will consist of everyone present in your next match, minus the fact that you’re teaming with Chris Madison. Do think you will have to change how you normally do things in this coming bout in an attempt to save something extra for your four way battle?”
Martinez smirks.
“You know, all that fancy posturin’ and subterfuge ain't my style. I think I've made it pretty clear - who I am and what it is I do from the start. I’m not hidin’ a secret ninja technique somewhere in my repertoire and I don’t think this physique is gonna start flyin’ around the ring anytime soon. While my opponents at this next PURE might be schemin’ and plotting I don’t think there’s going to be too much room for holdin’ back no matter the situation. Who really likes the taste’o defeat? I think everyone in this match is out ta prove somethin’. For me it’s a matter of goin’ out there and gettin’ the job done, it’s what the fans ask of me and it’s what I choose to deliver to’em. I’m not a fancy CEO plannin’ on runnin’ off with people’s retirement funds or anything. I’m like the rest of the workin’ class stiffs that come down to the arena every week – I get given a task, I follow through with it. I might not be a guy known fer havin’ much but I doubt anyone’s gonna doubt my work ethic. So as far as me changin’ up stuff, no. I’m the guy I've always been and for me it’s the same situation; gloves off, game on.”
Another wave of questions eagerly surge toward Joe in the form of lifted palms. The burly brawler makes his next decision. A t-shirt sporting man in a baseball cap, a pen and pad in his hand. He fires off his inquiry, “Yes Joe, I've followed you since your debut way back in your previous federation when you were known as ‘Madman’ Martinez yourself. In North Atlantic Wrestling you also had a fairly dominant title reign as the TV champion belt holder, how different are things here in PURE wrestling and does it introduce any new challenges to be in contention for a title belt here?”
For a brief second Joe appears to be lost in thought. He strokes his beard and stares out into the infinite. After a few seconds he answers. “Well it's good to know I got fans from before. Kinda odd they’d team me up with a new Madman, eh? I guess the temper’s a little more under control now so Madman Martinez is more of a memory.”
A nervous chuckle escapes from Joe’s lips.
“I have to say the atmosphere here in PURE wrestling is grander. This ain't a small time deal like NAW was. Folks here bring a high level of intensity, but this ain't my first rodeo. The competition here might have more experience but the thing is whether it’s minors or majors, everybody brings the best they got. I guess like any change’a venue there’s the fact I’m starin’ at a whole new field with a completely different setta players before me. I don’t really know about any specific new challenges or anythin’ but I gotta say it’s good to see that I’m on the radar now and not fer bein’ the kinda despicable low down dirty weasel type you see spoutin’ venom at the crowd. I think the fact I've lived like so much of the crowd makes me have the challenge of needin’ to prove myself to my peers on the PURE roster. They see me as a slovenly nobody but it’s just more motivation to try harder. I think the folks I've beat so far’ve learned I might be a brawler but my technique ain't sloppy, some’ve you folks might even know I was actually doin’ real training at an actual wrestling gym briefly before I moved on from NAW.”
Another uniform lifting of extremities awaits Joe to pick them. The wrestler points to a lanky man in a crisp button-up collared shirt. He seems all business as what appears to be an associate of his in a flannel shirt both holds a camera and a microphone for him to ask his question.
“Yes, uh. Regarding your training, what type of a physical regimen does it include? Many people have been questioning your fitness level and capacity to-”
Joe raises a hand an immediately cuts off the broadcaster.
“Yeah listen skinny, I know where you’re goin’ with this. I've heard it all before, folks question that I ain't able to pass a physical but fact is I was medically cleared to compete. This bulk ain't just all flab. You know I read that most Roman gladiators built up layers’a fat to soften up the impact from opponents. I can point to numerous examples of portly built athletes. It ain't about body types it’s about ability. I can tell ya I know I ain't winnin’ a speedo contest anytime soon. I can also tell ya that from the time I knocked Lucien open like a red waterfall to last week when I brought Anthony Bailey down on his luck not a single person’s doubted my victories. I got prowess where it counts and me puttin’ the weight of the world on folks has’em quitting quick. If you got any doubt about it, feel free to come up here and we’ll arm wrestle to prove who’s got more oomph to their effort.”
The crowd chuckles, however after it dies down Joe still maintains his predatory glare at the reporter for a few moments causing the suit to tug at his collar in a nervous manner and take a seat. Many of the raised hands dwindle. Joe makes another choice. This time a woman with her hair in a ponytail and a black outdoor style vest on.
“Thank you mister Martinez. As I understand it you actually had some sort of announcement you planned on revealing to the public. I was under the impression that was the point of this press conference.”
The bulky bruiser nods as he answers.
“Yeah I had planned on it. Then again I thought this was gonna be some kinda more intimate setting like a one on one interview with a college kid hopin’ to make it in the news reporting game. I was plannin’ on makin’ his or her day by giving them the exclusive news and letting’em have the scoop. This ain't really what I imagined so I guess I can let you all know that it’s gonna wait until the next PURE. Folks gotta make sure they tune in to hear what I got to reveal.”
With that a general disappointed “Aw” is heard and the reporters all begin to pack up and leave. One final enthusiastic hand is raised. This time it’s an individual in a ’PURE wrestling’ T shirt.
Joe acknowledges them.
“Yes, any final words for your upcoming opponents?”
The ‘average’ Joe grins something maniacal. His boisterous voice rises like a battle cry as he replies.
“Don’t mind if I do! Now this week’s a perfect time to size up the competition, but if that’s what we’re doing I think yer gonna need a decade to grasp me. So far I've had a victorious reign of dominating devastation but it don’t mean I’m just gonna give up my effort or take it easy. I know ya don’t coast’n’cruise on down to a victory in wrestling. Every inch, hurdle, step, and stroke is made off hard effort. I've had close calls but each time I’d give it just an ounce more of than the opposition to take the win. This week folks can expect no different from me.”
Joe stands and takes the ‘PURE’ microphone with him as he moves. He continues talking loudly, hyped up for the coming battle.
“Now let’s take a look at the obvious, the fact is I took Anthony Bailey out last week, and it wasn't no hot streak. It came down to Anthony taking the full brunt of my wrath and breaking under the pressure. I heard what he said about humble confidence, but when quiet confidence becomes complacency you get crushed’n’capitulate. Staying power ain't a question when it comes to me, trust me my strength is my unwillingness to let go once I've bit. In this fight fulla show poodles, I’m the junkyard dog. While the Promise got pulverized, I was standing tall at the end of the match last week. This time whether he’s got help or not, it should be clear to everyone that Bailey ain't built fer battle. He’s a fine competitor, he’s a decent athlete, but when it comes time for war punching bag’s a better moniker for the Promise. Everyone saw how I laid into him last week. Right from the start I was a stampede’a strikes. You wanna talk about staying power? Just wait ‘til you see the flurry’a fists I got comin’ this week. The thing you’ll be beggin’ for is that I lose endurance, but it ain't gonna happen.”
Joe continues walking. He leaves the room full of disappointed reporters who are packing up. He heads down a hallway, still holding a microphone and continuing his tirade.
“Madman Madison’n’me got quite a challenge ahead of us, we need to not only show Bailey to stay buried we also need to take on Aubrey J. Parker. A lady who has shown time and time again that her reputation precedes her for a reason. A fellow dominant force she may be, it might just have to end in tragedy for her. See I’m aimin’ at knockin’ that shooting star outta the sky. I've got the anti-air guns right here.”
Joe rolls up his sleeve and flexes his meaty arm. Someone looking closely might almost make out the definition of muscles.
“Why let it all be on my back though. I’m a guy who roots for the folks that’re down. I believe Madison owes you one. I might just let him get in there and lock in that Peruvian Necktie of his just so you can get a taste’a yer own medicine. It’d make things even and show everybody once again, that you ain't the immortal image’a victory they’re makin’ ya out to be. When we park Parker, stopping the momentum you've built up, causing you to crash head first into the reality of defeat, then you might just realize that it all ain't just about you. What good will being the face of wrestling be when it’s rearranged beyond recognition.”
Joe stops by a pop machine and acquires a soft drink. He then continues to march down the hall while ranting.
“You know at first I had my doubts about hittin’ a lady. I don’t really believe in it at a core level, but now that I've seen what you can do. Now that I've seen Alessandra’s ability in that ring, Scion’s savagery, even Alisha’s audacity… I know I’d be doin’ us all a disservice if I didn't come into that ring with the full intention’a layin’ my opponent out. Why not, right? I ain't a highly educated guy but I've done my fair share of readin’. Women are in the military the world over, they’re no less deadly with a rifle than a man, and them hittin’ ya hurts no less. So why would their victory be any less a threat over me’n’my partners? So Aubrey you can rest comfortably after I knock you out, knowin’ that I’m not gonna be pullin’ punches or softening blows.”
Joe reaches a door marked “Exit.” He cracks open the soda and chugs it as he bumps the push bar to leave the building. He flattens the can by smashing it on his forehead and tosses it into the dumpster. Joe produces a cigar and lights it up as he continues talking. His cadence less excited than before.
“For now, the partnership with Madison means you got more than just a single colossus comin’ yer way at PURE. Bailey’s bound for bedlam n’ Aubrey’s aimin’ fer achin’ after I’m through with the attack ‘average’ Joe’s unleashing. Madison’s a force to be reckoned with in his own right, but you take two hellhounds like the junkyard dog’n’the mad dog and you sic’em on prey like Parker, you let’em loose on an insect like ‘beetle’ Bailey - and you’re going to have two battered, broken, n’beaten bodies. Next time’ll be a different dynamic but at this upcoming encounter, Martinez and Madison are an assault force amplified…”
Joe groaned and changed the channel, banishing the images of children feigning joy and dancing with juice boxes.
“-nly way to make sure that your family knows how much you care. That’s why this holiday season; make sure you put your trust in America’s number one brand of laundry detergent.”
A low growl of annoyance escaped from Joe’s throat as he once again changed the channel.
“The lowliest donation you can give is akin to the lowliest praise you can give our almighty-”
Frustrated, Joe finally hit the power button on the remote control and the image on the screen of the small TV slimmed down to a white horizontal line that then detracted into a single point and vanished. He shoved the last bite of cheese and bologna sandwich into his mouth and leaned down to grab the soda can he had emptied. Joe rose from the folding chair he had claimed as his first piece of furniture, tossed his paper plate, and slapped on an old baseball cap.
“Guess it’s time to do this.” he said as he stepped out the door.
A short while later he was approaching the PURE headquarters building. Upon meeting the smiling man in a fancy business suit that held a hand out to greet Joe, the burly brawler immediately thought twice about his chosen attire of an old muddy brown sweatshirt and faded blue jeans. He reached out and shook the man’s hand and traded pleasantries while he was ushered inside. Finally he was brought to his destination; a small conference room with members of the press hungrily waiting for him to speak. There was uneasiness about the situation; Joe hadn't really been briefed properly. He thought it was going to be a simple one on one interview but now the thing had become a media circus. Joe took one look through the doorway and hesitated. Before he had a chance to protest, the company man was already urging him onward to the seat backed with the PURE banner and with multiple microphones set up. After resigning himself to the fact that there was no way out of this one, he solemnly made his way in and took a seat at the main focal point of the room.
Joe took a moment to clear his throat, “Ahem, hello folks. I uh, wasn't really expectin’ all this…”
The man took a seat next to him and smiled politely to the crowd of reporters, sports journalists, gossip column writers, and other various periodical and news employees. He chimed in for Joe at seeing his discomfort.
“Hello everybody, thank you for coming down to this press conference. We have quite a special opportunity presenting itself before us, PURE wrestling’s very own Joe Martinez has agreed to an interview. While normally a low key individual on his off time, he’s graciously accepted the invitation to open up to everyone about his time here at PURE. I ask that…”
The bulky bruiser mostly tuned the rest of the man’s spiel out. He began trying to decipher the various logos and names from the companies present. Every face in the crowd was turned to him, some with analytic vigor others with simple curiosity. It was hard to really discern features with the small sea of lights pointed his way. Before he knew it hands were raised and the man was prompting him to select a question.
-------------
Joe leers out into the crowd, he points to someone after some consideration. Long blonde hair mostly covers the face of the woman in a sport red coat as she begins to speak, “Yes, mister Martinez, having seemingly come out of nowhere and being on an undefeated streak many people are claiming that your success has been mostly based on luck. How do you respond?”
Joe takes a moment to ponder before rumbling a response, “This ain't just a lucky streak, it don’t work that way. You get lucky here and there, maybe I’d’ve won a match once outta luck but I find that highly doubtful. Why? ‘cause in this world you need more’n luck to prevail. This is me showin’ everybody that when I step into the ring I mean business. This has been Joe provin’ all on comers that he ain't the guy they should be sleepin’ on. I use these fists ta knock blocks’n’socks off.”
Joe mimes his next action.
“When I pick someone up, it’s so I can slam’em down with enough force to leave a crater in that ring.”
He mimics a thrown punch.
“When I swing these axes it’s so I can chop down the biggest ego in the forest. Bring down the legends and legacies that’ve built themselves up by putting others down. For anyone to claim it was luck they’d have to be the kinda person who talks without knowin’ anythin’. Anybody who’s seen my matches knows luck wasn't responsible for me openin’ up my opponents, and shuttin’ down their offensives.”
Another army of arms rise as Joe ends his response. He selects thick glasses and a bright polo shirt. The slicked back hair is a poor attempt to make the obvious youngster seem more professional. The nasally voiced rookie holds out a tape recorder and asks his question. “Your title match will consist of everyone present in your next match, minus the fact that you’re teaming with Chris Madison. Do think you will have to change how you normally do things in this coming bout in an attempt to save something extra for your four way battle?”
Martinez smirks.
“You know, all that fancy posturin’ and subterfuge ain't my style. I think I've made it pretty clear - who I am and what it is I do from the start. I’m not hidin’ a secret ninja technique somewhere in my repertoire and I don’t think this physique is gonna start flyin’ around the ring anytime soon. While my opponents at this next PURE might be schemin’ and plotting I don’t think there’s going to be too much room for holdin’ back no matter the situation. Who really likes the taste’o defeat? I think everyone in this match is out ta prove somethin’. For me it’s a matter of goin’ out there and gettin’ the job done, it’s what the fans ask of me and it’s what I choose to deliver to’em. I’m not a fancy CEO plannin’ on runnin’ off with people’s retirement funds or anything. I’m like the rest of the workin’ class stiffs that come down to the arena every week – I get given a task, I follow through with it. I might not be a guy known fer havin’ much but I doubt anyone’s gonna doubt my work ethic. So as far as me changin’ up stuff, no. I’m the guy I've always been and for me it’s the same situation; gloves off, game on.”
Another wave of questions eagerly surge toward Joe in the form of lifted palms. The burly brawler makes his next decision. A t-shirt sporting man in a baseball cap, a pen and pad in his hand. He fires off his inquiry, “Yes Joe, I've followed you since your debut way back in your previous federation when you were known as ‘Madman’ Martinez yourself. In North Atlantic Wrestling you also had a fairly dominant title reign as the TV champion belt holder, how different are things here in PURE wrestling and does it introduce any new challenges to be in contention for a title belt here?”
For a brief second Joe appears to be lost in thought. He strokes his beard and stares out into the infinite. After a few seconds he answers. “Well it's good to know I got fans from before. Kinda odd they’d team me up with a new Madman, eh? I guess the temper’s a little more under control now so Madman Martinez is more of a memory.”
A nervous chuckle escapes from Joe’s lips.
“I have to say the atmosphere here in PURE wrestling is grander. This ain't a small time deal like NAW was. Folks here bring a high level of intensity, but this ain't my first rodeo. The competition here might have more experience but the thing is whether it’s minors or majors, everybody brings the best they got. I guess like any change’a venue there’s the fact I’m starin’ at a whole new field with a completely different setta players before me. I don’t really know about any specific new challenges or anythin’ but I gotta say it’s good to see that I’m on the radar now and not fer bein’ the kinda despicable low down dirty weasel type you see spoutin’ venom at the crowd. I think the fact I've lived like so much of the crowd makes me have the challenge of needin’ to prove myself to my peers on the PURE roster. They see me as a slovenly nobody but it’s just more motivation to try harder. I think the folks I've beat so far’ve learned I might be a brawler but my technique ain't sloppy, some’ve you folks might even know I was actually doin’ real training at an actual wrestling gym briefly before I moved on from NAW.”
Another uniform lifting of extremities awaits Joe to pick them. The wrestler points to a lanky man in a crisp button-up collared shirt. He seems all business as what appears to be an associate of his in a flannel shirt both holds a camera and a microphone for him to ask his question.
“Yes, uh. Regarding your training, what type of a physical regimen does it include? Many people have been questioning your fitness level and capacity to-”
Joe raises a hand an immediately cuts off the broadcaster.
“Yeah listen skinny, I know where you’re goin’ with this. I've heard it all before, folks question that I ain't able to pass a physical but fact is I was medically cleared to compete. This bulk ain't just all flab. You know I read that most Roman gladiators built up layers’a fat to soften up the impact from opponents. I can point to numerous examples of portly built athletes. It ain't about body types it’s about ability. I can tell ya I know I ain't winnin’ a speedo contest anytime soon. I can also tell ya that from the time I knocked Lucien open like a red waterfall to last week when I brought Anthony Bailey down on his luck not a single person’s doubted my victories. I got prowess where it counts and me puttin’ the weight of the world on folks has’em quitting quick. If you got any doubt about it, feel free to come up here and we’ll arm wrestle to prove who’s got more oomph to their effort.”
The crowd chuckles, however after it dies down Joe still maintains his predatory glare at the reporter for a few moments causing the suit to tug at his collar in a nervous manner and take a seat. Many of the raised hands dwindle. Joe makes another choice. This time a woman with her hair in a ponytail and a black outdoor style vest on.
“Thank you mister Martinez. As I understand it you actually had some sort of announcement you planned on revealing to the public. I was under the impression that was the point of this press conference.”
The bulky bruiser nods as he answers.
“Yeah I had planned on it. Then again I thought this was gonna be some kinda more intimate setting like a one on one interview with a college kid hopin’ to make it in the news reporting game. I was plannin’ on makin’ his or her day by giving them the exclusive news and letting’em have the scoop. This ain't really what I imagined so I guess I can let you all know that it’s gonna wait until the next PURE. Folks gotta make sure they tune in to hear what I got to reveal.”
With that a general disappointed “Aw” is heard and the reporters all begin to pack up and leave. One final enthusiastic hand is raised. This time it’s an individual in a ’PURE wrestling’ T shirt.
Joe acknowledges them.
“Yes, any final words for your upcoming opponents?”
The ‘average’ Joe grins something maniacal. His boisterous voice rises like a battle cry as he replies.
“Don’t mind if I do! Now this week’s a perfect time to size up the competition, but if that’s what we’re doing I think yer gonna need a decade to grasp me. So far I've had a victorious reign of dominating devastation but it don’t mean I’m just gonna give up my effort or take it easy. I know ya don’t coast’n’cruise on down to a victory in wrestling. Every inch, hurdle, step, and stroke is made off hard effort. I've had close calls but each time I’d give it just an ounce more of than the opposition to take the win. This week folks can expect no different from me.”
Joe stands and takes the ‘PURE’ microphone with him as he moves. He continues talking loudly, hyped up for the coming battle.
“Now let’s take a look at the obvious, the fact is I took Anthony Bailey out last week, and it wasn't no hot streak. It came down to Anthony taking the full brunt of my wrath and breaking under the pressure. I heard what he said about humble confidence, but when quiet confidence becomes complacency you get crushed’n’capitulate. Staying power ain't a question when it comes to me, trust me my strength is my unwillingness to let go once I've bit. In this fight fulla show poodles, I’m the junkyard dog. While the Promise got pulverized, I was standing tall at the end of the match last week. This time whether he’s got help or not, it should be clear to everyone that Bailey ain't built fer battle. He’s a fine competitor, he’s a decent athlete, but when it comes time for war punching bag’s a better moniker for the Promise. Everyone saw how I laid into him last week. Right from the start I was a stampede’a strikes. You wanna talk about staying power? Just wait ‘til you see the flurry’a fists I got comin’ this week. The thing you’ll be beggin’ for is that I lose endurance, but it ain't gonna happen.”
Joe continues walking. He leaves the room full of disappointed reporters who are packing up. He heads down a hallway, still holding a microphone and continuing his tirade.
“Madman Madison’n’me got quite a challenge ahead of us, we need to not only show Bailey to stay buried we also need to take on Aubrey J. Parker. A lady who has shown time and time again that her reputation precedes her for a reason. A fellow dominant force she may be, it might just have to end in tragedy for her. See I’m aimin’ at knockin’ that shooting star outta the sky. I've got the anti-air guns right here.”
Joe rolls up his sleeve and flexes his meaty arm. Someone looking closely might almost make out the definition of muscles.
“Why let it all be on my back though. I’m a guy who roots for the folks that’re down. I believe Madison owes you one. I might just let him get in there and lock in that Peruvian Necktie of his just so you can get a taste’a yer own medicine. It’d make things even and show everybody once again, that you ain't the immortal image’a victory they’re makin’ ya out to be. When we park Parker, stopping the momentum you've built up, causing you to crash head first into the reality of defeat, then you might just realize that it all ain't just about you. What good will being the face of wrestling be when it’s rearranged beyond recognition.”
Joe stops by a pop machine and acquires a soft drink. He then continues to march down the hall while ranting.
“You know at first I had my doubts about hittin’ a lady. I don’t really believe in it at a core level, but now that I've seen what you can do. Now that I've seen Alessandra’s ability in that ring, Scion’s savagery, even Alisha’s audacity… I know I’d be doin’ us all a disservice if I didn't come into that ring with the full intention’a layin’ my opponent out. Why not, right? I ain't a highly educated guy but I've done my fair share of readin’. Women are in the military the world over, they’re no less deadly with a rifle than a man, and them hittin’ ya hurts no less. So why would their victory be any less a threat over me’n’my partners? So Aubrey you can rest comfortably after I knock you out, knowin’ that I’m not gonna be pullin’ punches or softening blows.”
Joe reaches a door marked “Exit.” He cracks open the soda and chugs it as he bumps the push bar to leave the building. He flattens the can by smashing it on his forehead and tosses it into the dumpster. Joe produces a cigar and lights it up as he continues talking. His cadence less excited than before.
“For now, the partnership with Madison means you got more than just a single colossus comin’ yer way at PURE. Bailey’s bound for bedlam n’ Aubrey’s aimin’ fer achin’ after I’m through with the attack ‘average’ Joe’s unleashing. Madison’s a force to be reckoned with in his own right, but you take two hellhounds like the junkyard dog’n’the mad dog and you sic’em on prey like Parker, you let’em loose on an insect like ‘beetle’ Bailey - and you’re going to have two battered, broken, n’beaten bodies. Next time’ll be a different dynamic but at this upcoming encounter, Martinez and Madison are an assault force amplified…”
