PROMO: mens palaestra

[Longdogger_Pete 0]

The SWF's Puerto Rico show was fast approaching, and Longdogger Pete spent nearly every available hour in the days leading to the show training at a nearby exercise facility, determined to get himself back into top shape before his return match. One evening during a particularly rigorous workout session, Pete was jogging in place on a treadmill, toward the end of the session. It was almost closing time, and the facility was otherwise empty. As he ticked off the miles on the treadmill, he found himself being greeted by an unexpected visitor. "Hello, Pete."

 

Pete glanced over his shoulder at the new arrival, sighed, and stepped off the treadmill. "Can I help you?"

 

Toxxic took a step forward, hand outstretched for a handshake. "I was told I might find you here. I'm the SWF's general manager--"

 

"Michael Stephens," Pete interrupted. He stared at Toxxic's hand a moment, but ultimately ignored it, reaching instead for a towel. "I know who you are. I used to call your matches."

 

"And talked shit about me as well, if I remember correctly."

 

Pete shrugged. "I just called what I saw. My audience seemed to approve of what I had to say, or else I wouldn't have been able to keep that job."

 

The Englishman frowned in apparent misunderstanding. "You told Ben Hardy you didn't remember--"

 

"Ben Hardy is an idiot." Pete cut Toxxic off again. "I try not to give that guy too many straight answers. He's obviously just pandering for a story to tell the loyal fans he's convinced he has an abundance of." Pete wiped the sweat off his furrowed brow with the towel, then continued. "What are you doing here?"

 

"I wanted to talk to you about your plans here in the SWF. Your goals. What is it you hope to accomplish this time around?"

 

Pete chuckled as he tossed the towel aside. "Why, boss, isn't it obvious? My goal is to become the World Heavyweight Champion. Shouldn't that be the goal of everyone in the organization?"

 

Toxxic looked incredulous. "You? As the World Champion?"

 

Pete nodded. "I know. Big words coming from a guy who's never made a serious main event run, who's had two bad knees the last five years, and who hasn't even been back for one match yet. Right?" Pete waved his hand in front of his face, cutting off entirely whatever reply Toxxic was about to make. "You may not think it's in the cards right now, but you just wait and see what I can accomplish this time around. I'm in the best shape of my life, and I'm ready to take on anyone in the business, starting with... what's that guy's name again?"

 

"Arne Andersen," Toxxic offered.

 

"Right. By the way, that guy's probably the worst look-alike I have ever seen. Just saying."

 

Toxxic leaned back against the door frame, clasping his arms. "Look, Pete. You know I have a lot of respect for you and your contributions to this industry."

 

"Respect?!"

 

It was like a switch had been flipped with the single utterance of the word. Pete angrily stepped closer, glaring menacingly at the general manager. "Don't talk to me about respect. I'm tired of that word being tossed about and taken lightly by people who don't even really know what it means or even believe what they're saying! 'Respect' is not a polite way of saying 'You're a god damned loser, Pete, now stop bothering me!' You don't think I can be World Champion? For Chrissakes, you've got Insane Luchador as the world champion now! Insane Fucking Luchador! Once upon a time, a statement like that would've had you laughed right out the door! If he can overcome the odds--"

 

Pete paused, rant over for the moment, caught his breath, and cleared his throat. "Sorry. I'm getting carried away. But in reply to your comment. I have respect for you too, Michael Stephens. There's no denying you're one of the most decorated competitors this federation has seen in its history. But as of right now--you are the same thing as everyone else in the league."

 

Toxxic looked Pete over, motionless, arms still folded. "And what's that?"

 

Pete took one more step closer, now almost nose to nose with the general manager, and pointed a finger in his face. "You're just a guy... who's in my way."

 

With that, Pete forcibly shoved Toxxic away from the door and stepped through himself, exiting the facility without another word.

 

Toxxic glared at Pete as he watched the big man depart, and for his part, showed remarkable restraint. "Just great," he muttered to himself. "One more problem on my plate. Still, at least he hasn't kicked down any doors yet..."

 

[HollywoodSpikeJenkins 0]

Serious Pete reminds me of Locke from Lost.

[Longdogger_Pete 0]

Hah! I came damn close to including the line "Don't tell me what I can't do!"