Post by Cause and Effect on Mar 27, 2017 13:03:54 GMT
“Every single time..they doubt us. They try to diminish what we've been doing from the very beginning in FAW. They even go as far as to guarantee victory against us. But what happens each and every time? We prove them wrong. By hook or crook, we go out there and we out do everyone standing in front of us. We constantly show that we are better.”
The scene slowly faded into view, revealing “The Antagonist” Gabriel Laroux as he leaned against the wrought iron railing surrounding the concrete walkway in front of his less than modest apartment. The eldest Laroux wore a pair of heavy dark blue jeans that hung from his waist by means of a black leather belt. The soft material of an unbuttoned black shirt draped over his torso as he looked out to the quiet parking lot below.
“And what do we get for it? We get insignificant little bugs like Mrs. Conners automatically assuming they're going to do what nobody has been capable of doing yet. But there's no backing there. What reason does Mrs. Conners have to be so...arrogant going into this match? Is it some secret strategy they're keeping up their sleeve? Or does she simply plan on riding out their deeper than blood connection in hopes that it's enough to carry them through this match?”
As he spoke about the connection between Dropkicks and Donuts, his words came off as sarcastic, condescending even. Pushing off of that railing, Gabriel turned to look at the one holding the camera, a look of disgust growing across his features.
“It sickens me when I see someone like you, Mrs. Conners. Scared to say what you want..what you really want to say. You have to protect your image, am I right? The happy little married couple, preparing to take on the big bad Cause and Effect. But that's not what this is about…yet. First, we have to jump through hoops. We have to suffice management and slowly crawl towards yet another defense.”
“But along the way? A chance to fight on my own. A chance to take the oh so common opinion that I'm walking in Xavier's shadow. That I'm taking advantage of him and benefiting because of it. People can talk. The fact is? I've worked just as hard as he has since we've started as a team.”
“This isn't about the team, as I said. This is about Mrs. Conners trying so desperately to make herself look better. But let me tell you. Know this, Mrs. Conners. Do you know how hard it is to look good when you're writhing in agony as I twist and contort your limbs? Do you know how hard it is to look good while you're screaming in pain, slapping your hand against the canvas for dear life, hoping...praying that I break whatever hold I so choose to utilize against you?”
“But before me and my brother crush the dreams of yet another dead end tag team, I get the chance to make one half of that team back up her words. This is your chance to show a reason as to why you think you've already won the gold, Mrs. Conners. Show me the fight you're going to bring against us.”
The sound of a door opening caught the attention of Gabriel as he turned to look at a female making her exit from his apartment. Long flowing hair, black and silver in color, hung below the white tank top straps on her shoulders.
"Why do you keep calling her Mrs. Conners?”
“Because that's who she is. I don't see an individual when I look at Mrs. Conners. I see someone's wife, I see one half of a whole. Nothing more, nothing less, Alaina.”
She nodded, strands of dyed hair falling freely. Without another word, Alaina walked back into that apartment, focus returning to Gabriel.
“Sure, she's going to fight to deny this. But what happens when she loses? Will you admit I'm right? Or..despite being proven wrong, will you continue to live in your fantasy world? The world in which you're an individual. The world in which Dropkicks and Donuts actually have a chance of becoming the next FAW Tag Team Champions. Be ready, Mrs. Conners. I'll bring it all crashing down around you.”
Gabriel turned his attention away from the man holding the camera before walking back into that apartment.
The scene slowly faded into view, revealing “The Antagonist” Gabriel Laroux as he leaned against the wrought iron railing surrounding the concrete walkway in front of his less than modest apartment. The eldest Laroux wore a pair of heavy dark blue jeans that hung from his waist by means of a black leather belt. The soft material of an unbuttoned black shirt draped over his torso as he looked out to the quiet parking lot below.
“And what do we get for it? We get insignificant little bugs like Mrs. Conners automatically assuming they're going to do what nobody has been capable of doing yet. But there's no backing there. What reason does Mrs. Conners have to be so...arrogant going into this match? Is it some secret strategy they're keeping up their sleeve? Or does she simply plan on riding out their deeper than blood connection in hopes that it's enough to carry them through this match?”
As he spoke about the connection between Dropkicks and Donuts, his words came off as sarcastic, condescending even. Pushing off of that railing, Gabriel turned to look at the one holding the camera, a look of disgust growing across his features.
“It sickens me when I see someone like you, Mrs. Conners. Scared to say what you want..what you really want to say. You have to protect your image, am I right? The happy little married couple, preparing to take on the big bad Cause and Effect. But that's not what this is about…yet. First, we have to jump through hoops. We have to suffice management and slowly crawl towards yet another defense.”
“But along the way? A chance to fight on my own. A chance to take the oh so common opinion that I'm walking in Xavier's shadow. That I'm taking advantage of him and benefiting because of it. People can talk. The fact is? I've worked just as hard as he has since we've started as a team.”
“This isn't about the team, as I said. This is about Mrs. Conners trying so desperately to make herself look better. But let me tell you. Know this, Mrs. Conners. Do you know how hard it is to look good when you're writhing in agony as I twist and contort your limbs? Do you know how hard it is to look good while you're screaming in pain, slapping your hand against the canvas for dear life, hoping...praying that I break whatever hold I so choose to utilize against you?”
“But before me and my brother crush the dreams of yet another dead end tag team, I get the chance to make one half of that team back up her words. This is your chance to show a reason as to why you think you've already won the gold, Mrs. Conners. Show me the fight you're going to bring against us.”
The sound of a door opening caught the attention of Gabriel as he turned to look at a female making her exit from his apartment. Long flowing hair, black and silver in color, hung below the white tank top straps on her shoulders.
"Why do you keep calling her Mrs. Conners?”
“Because that's who she is. I don't see an individual when I look at Mrs. Conners. I see someone's wife, I see one half of a whole. Nothing more, nothing less, Alaina.”
She nodded, strands of dyed hair falling freely. Without another word, Alaina walked back into that apartment, focus returning to Gabriel.
“Sure, she's going to fight to deny this. But what happens when she loses? Will you admit I'm right? Or..despite being proven wrong, will you continue to live in your fantasy world? The world in which you're an individual. The world in which Dropkicks and Donuts actually have a chance of becoming the next FAW Tag Team Champions. Be ready, Mrs. Conners. I'll bring it all crashing down around you.”
Gabriel turned his attention away from the man holding the camera before walking back into that apartment.