Thrill Me Not
Show: Victory XL
Tension was growing in Paris, France with the arrival of the competitors for Ultimate Toughness Alliance’s Victory Roster. This city was nothing like the cities that Yeshua was used to; having only recently left his native Mexico for a chance to make it to the big time in the United States of America he had found him being in the main event surprising. He had limited training in this sport they called professional wrestling as he was more of an acrobatic brawler but beggars cannot be choosers. If this is his way to get noticed by one of the big American promotions then he was up for it. This was a time for him to make a name for himself. There were some big names in this industry that he had seen only on YouTube on the card that if he took anyone of them out the big time would come a calling. He could see himself being the one on the show to watch; nothing like having a bit of confidence in your abilities.
He was wandering around Paris acclimatising to the cold with his entourage. Mexico was a hell of a lot hotter than France and didn’t Yeshua know it. They had found this brik-a-brak shop down a back alley and it had got their attention. The place was a cavern of curved brick arches, sagging cement walls and meandering black iron pipes. Weak lights implied a glow through the caked warehouse styled windows with their rusted latches. Wooden doors hang loose on the plaster walls that go nowhere. Once upon a time, this place was probably a mill or factory of some kind. Now it was an enormous disorganised antique and junk shop, packed in like keepsakes and Christmas ornaments into an old garage.
The place was broken down into sections: In the back of the place was a furniture graveyard where dozens of tables crowd together to create a sticky wooden plain populated by herds of ugly lamps. A tennis court sized room crowded with racks of dusty gowns and 1970’s style outerwear. Milk crates of old vinyl records in water damaged sleeves are jammed under every desk, table and sewing station that they’ll fit. The front of the store was a wilderness of dishes, silverware, figurines, appliances and assorted architectural remains, stored in a wide, high span of glass cases laid out like hedgerows.
Much of the light in there comes from junk lamps and bare bulbs. The hum of the AC units swallows each other sound more than a few feet away. Somewhere, though, an AM radio played big band tunes cuts through it all.
Yeshua sat on one of the couches as his entourage were spread out around him. He was caressing the tattoos on his left arm as he leaned back surveying his entourage as they mingling around in this building which was next door to the gym that they had hired to get some training for this match. It was going to be hard but he wasn’t going to let some pathetic egotistical bastard beat him.
He would take there so called superstars and make them seem interesting. Making an ass of the ring veteran would be priceless and he was sure that it will probably shock the world as they probably thought that the returning William Haynes was a sure fire win when it came to wrestling as he had many years on Yeshua.
Dobbie was sitting to his left looking through some web pages on the lap top that he had found in this den of sin. Paris was as a whole a den of sin and Yeshua was sickened by the very air that he breathed in this cess pool of a city.
Victory was supposed to be interesting for him this week as someone had decided to throw him into the main event match maybe thinking that some masked luchador who knows nothing about wrestling within the confines of a UTA ring? What they don’t realise is that Yeshua was a proficient wrestler now. Growing up in Mexico, Yeshua had to grapple with a few ruffians just to survive in that part of the world so wrestling in the UTA shouldn’t be too hard.
Yeshua coughed and his acolytes turned to him. Their attention was one hundred per cent and it was hard to see if they blinked. “So what happen on Victory a few weeks ago was not what I expected. I don’t think anyone expected it to go down quite the way it did. It was supposed to be the big night for me but it didn’t quite happen. He was supposed to be just a stepping stone for me to trample on the way back up to the pinnacle of this industry.”
He smirked from beneath the hood he wore which hid his face from the world.
“Only one problem; I didn’t get that damn memo and as far as I know this isn’t the Ron Hall show. Times have changed even in the brief time I have been here and as my opponent this week William Haynes is about as relevant as a Nazi party reunion in Israel.”
Someone from within the acolytes sighs at that comment.
“What? Do I shock you?” Yeshua said. “I need to shock people as this world will never survive for much longer in the downward spiral it is in. Only my salvation can save those that I think can be saved. The Church doesn’t care, the governments of the world countries don’t care as they quibble over anything that will get them more power.”
He stands and moved amongst his followers.
“Time is all relevant at the moment. Look at what happened twelve years ago and America hasn’t learnt from its mistakes that came out of that tragic situation. It has used it as an end to a means. That is what it will be like in Syria if the powers that be get their way in Washington. They are not interesting in any of the Arab States because of human rights or the like. No. It’s all about the oil. All about money.”
Dobbie nodded as he continued to type on the laptop.
Yeshua acknowledged his acolytes. “I may have lost to Ron last week but I came out as the one that shocked the world and to be honest it fuelled the passion inside me to prove why I am really in Ultimate Toughness Alliance even more. He disrespected me and thought I was just some punk from Mexico who was star struck in his presence. Well knock me down with a feather, I am for real. I am not just some preacher or cult leader as they are saying in the tabloids. No, I am Yeshua Pandemonium, and this is only the beginning.”
He pointed out of the window at people walking past. “People in this country are getting so dumbed-down by mass-commercialism and mindless reality television programming that makes people like Kim Kardashian and Kanye West as their heroes. What the fuck was wrong with these people? If you want to elevate complete morons as your modern day deities why should that bother me but for fuck sake? For real?”
He shook his head as he looked beyond his acolytes. “This week I get to cure William Haynes of his sins. Thrill I Am? How funny of someone to have a moniker that is basically a piss take of some two-bit pop musician who tries to hang onto the fame he had as part of a group. Why not Justin Timberlake, the Ghost of Whitney Houston? Who give’s themselves a silly, juvenile nickname like that?”
The acolytes laughed nervously to the joke that Yeshua had said.
“Fighting within the squared circle in a wrestling situation should be interesting,” Yeshua said. “I may not be what William’s class as your standard wrestler like he may be but I know a move or two. I know an arm bar and a few other things that will keep me productive in this match. I know William Haynes is all about the UTA at the moment and I’m a madman in a mask in a wrestler’s world but this glorified cock fight will be an interesting experience for someone like myself.”
Yeshua stood back up and walked around the junkshop. He reached into a brik-a-brak section and pulled out a plastic UTA World Heavyweight championship belt made for a child. “This prop and similar ones makes people think that they are the top of this industry. People like Yoshii, Sean Jackson and Abdul bin Hussain have had this belt or the one before it around their waists and now look how far they have fallen. Sins will re-paid in full.”
He throws the belt back into the junk and sits back down.
“This week Thrill I Am, William Haynes will be thrown why he shouldn’t mess with me or any of my acolytes……..”
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