Post by Amis FN Shelton on Apr 5, 2024 20:32:23 GMT -6
March 25th, 2024
State Farm Arena - Atlanta, Georgia
The scene opens to the labyrinth lair otherwise known as the backstage area of the State Farm Arena in Atlanta. The corridors were filled with various crew members scurrying about, ensuring every detail was attended to as the live Monday Night Brawl show progressed. The roar of the capacity audience boomed throughout the corridors, sending an extra jolt of energy throughout the already chaotic scene.
The commotion seemed to part like the Red Sea as Amis Shelton emerged onto the scene, fresh off his victory over Emmanuelle and the short albeit sweet encounter with the reigning Heritage Champion. His hands firmly grasp both ends of a white towel wrapped behind his neck as he traverses through the gorilla position towards the locker room area with a smug smile on his face. Proud of what he’s achieved tonight, ‘The Renegade’ undoubtedly had plans to retire peacefully to his locker room before eventually settling in a hotel for the night. Little did he know that his plans would be scuppered by the resident interviewer for Monday Night Brawl, Bob Murray, ambushing him from seemingly out of nowhere and flanked by the invincible cameraman. Bob gives the signal to the cameraman to immediately begin recording as he brings Amis to a reluctant halt.
“Amis! Congratulations on your win over Emmanuelle,” Bob says with his free arm outstretched. “But the people want to know, you grabbed the microphone and spoke to Morgan Darkwater. What does that date mean?”
“Really?” Amis sighed as he shook his head slightly. “It seems like it’s not just the people in the locker room who’ve downgraded over the years but the on-air talent as well. Do you think Ace Heart would’ve interrupted me with a stupid question like that?”
There’s a moment of awkward silence, mainly because Bob didn’t know if the question was rhetorical or not.
“Uhh no?” Bob eventually says, his body language wasn’t as intense as before.
“Exactly! Because he would have done his homework!” Amis exclaimed, seizing the opportunity to school Bob on the finer points of professional wrestling history. “He would have known, just like how Captain Sparrow knows and about everybody else who watched wrestling in the last decade. July 16th, 2018 was the last time Amis Shelton and Morgan Darkwater met inside a wrestling ring and on that night The Renegade kicked The Pirate’s ass! Now I’m going to set a new date. April 22nd, 2024 I’m going to do it all over again, only this time I will be taking the Heritage Championship from him.”
“Well, you do have to get past Chelsea Skye in the final in two weeks,” Bob's feeble attempt to remind Amis of the remaining obstacle in his path was met with a disdainful eye roll.
“Chelsea Skye?” Amis said with a smirk playing on his lips and his tone laced with contempt. “C’mon, I’ve faced tougher opponents in my sleep.”
“I don’t know about that,” Bob said with a careful shrug of his shoulders. “She has proven herself to be quite the competitor in her own right at times.”
“What she is a poster child for every 90s emo chick out there, trying to decide whether they want to make shitty music or shitty films to sell to the nutjobs down by Englewood,” The idea of holding back didn’t cross the mind of The Renegade as he snapped back, his gaze turned from Bob to the camera beyond him. “But whilst she’s stuck deciding on how to make her parents proud of her, Amis Shelton is out there proving to the world that he is the greatest of all time! You know, Bob, facing Chelsea Skye feels less like a challenge and more like a chore. I mean, sure, she'll put up a fight, but in the end, she's just another stepping stone on my path. And trust me, I'm not planning on stumbling anytime soon.”
“Those are some strong words there, Amis,” Bob continued, though was interrupted by another booming response from the crowd who were focused on the live proceedings. “Don’t you think that your verbal attacks might provoke her to bring it even more inside the ring?”
“Okay let’s not give her too much fuckin’ credit here, Bob,” Amis scoffed as he responded with a dismissive tone, emphasising his own belief in his superiority. “If she’s thinking about getting some kind of fire in that belly of hers just because I’ve called her out for what she is, then she’s sorely mistaken. She can try but it won’t change a damn thing because, at the end of the day, she’s nothing more than a second-rate act trying to play in the big leagues. She’s out of her depth, she knows and I know it. The only person who doesn’t seem to get it is your simple ass.”
The Brawl interviewer is then caught by surprise as Amis Shelton forcibly removes the microphone from his grasp, followed by motioning for the camera to put more of a focus on him.
“Let’s not forget what we’re fighting for, a shot at a Heritage Championship at StrangleMania. It only makes sense that the greatest of all time should be on the card for the greatest wrestling event of all time. If that’s not wrestling heritage in itself then I don’t know what is,” Amis’s eyes lit up like a fire within, echoing his determined tone. “The bottom line is that title was made exactly for Amis Shelton, a bonafide legend of this industry. You want to talk about Chelsea Skye? Let’s talk about a wrestler who’s more interested in playing the victim than actually winning matches. She’s been complaining about some injustice or another but when it comes time to step up and show out, she’s nowhere to be found. Maybe she should stick to writing sad songs and leave the wrestling to the professionals.”
There was a slight pause as Amis allowed his words to hang in the air, with a piercing gaze down the lens of the camera.
“Chelsea Skye, the 'Nightmare Angel'? More like the 'Daydreaming Dipshit.' She struts around like she's some kind of badass, but we all know she's just a poser. I mean, come on, have you seen her in the ring? It's like watching a drunk toddler try to play tag,” A wicked smirk appears on The Renegade’s face as he continues to spill venom. “When she steps inside that ring in Shreveport, she’s going to learn real fast what happens to those who dare to dream about stepping in my way. Fuck her title ambitions, this is my time and everybody is living in Amis Shelton’s world now.”
“Here, catch,” Amis said after tossing the microphone back to its original owner, who scrambled trying to catch it.
The Renegade then forcibly walked past Bob Murray to continue his journey to the locker room, leaving the resident interviewer stunned at how quickly the segment had gotten out of his control. As the echoes of Amis's footsteps faded into the distance, Bob was left alone in the bustling chaos of the backstage area. His shoulders slumped with defeat, a defeated sigh escaping his lips as he watched The Renegade disappear from view, not even bothering to give him a second look as he purposefully walked towards the locker room area, turning corners and pushing through multiple doors on his way.
The commotion seemed to part like the Red Sea as Amis Shelton emerged onto the scene, fresh off his victory over Emmanuelle and the short albeit sweet encounter with the reigning Heritage Champion. His hands firmly grasp both ends of a white towel wrapped behind his neck as he traverses through the gorilla position towards the locker room area with a smug smile on his face. Proud of what he’s achieved tonight, ‘The Renegade’ undoubtedly had plans to retire peacefully to his locker room before eventually settling in a hotel for the night. Little did he know that his plans would be scuppered by the resident interviewer for Monday Night Brawl, Bob Murray, ambushing him from seemingly out of nowhere and flanked by the invincible cameraman. Bob gives the signal to the cameraman to immediately begin recording as he brings Amis to a reluctant halt.
“Amis! Congratulations on your win over Emmanuelle,” Bob says with his free arm outstretched. “But the people want to know, you grabbed the microphone and spoke to Morgan Darkwater. What does that date mean?”
“Really?” Amis sighed as he shook his head slightly. “It seems like it’s not just the people in the locker room who’ve downgraded over the years but the on-air talent as well. Do you think Ace Heart would’ve interrupted me with a stupid question like that?”
There’s a moment of awkward silence, mainly because Bob didn’t know if the question was rhetorical or not.
“Uhh no?” Bob eventually says, his body language wasn’t as intense as before.
“Exactly! Because he would have done his homework!” Amis exclaimed, seizing the opportunity to school Bob on the finer points of professional wrestling history. “He would have known, just like how Captain Sparrow knows and about everybody else who watched wrestling in the last decade. July 16th, 2018 was the last time Amis Shelton and Morgan Darkwater met inside a wrestling ring and on that night The Renegade kicked The Pirate’s ass! Now I’m going to set a new date. April 22nd, 2024 I’m going to do it all over again, only this time I will be taking the Heritage Championship from him.”
“Well, you do have to get past Chelsea Skye in the final in two weeks,” Bob's feeble attempt to remind Amis of the remaining obstacle in his path was met with a disdainful eye roll.
“Chelsea Skye?” Amis said with a smirk playing on his lips and his tone laced with contempt. “C’mon, I’ve faced tougher opponents in my sleep.”
“I don’t know about that,” Bob said with a careful shrug of his shoulders. “She has proven herself to be quite the competitor in her own right at times.”
“What she is a poster child for every 90s emo chick out there, trying to decide whether they want to make shitty music or shitty films to sell to the nutjobs down by Englewood,” The idea of holding back didn’t cross the mind of The Renegade as he snapped back, his gaze turned from Bob to the camera beyond him. “But whilst she’s stuck deciding on how to make her parents proud of her, Amis Shelton is out there proving to the world that he is the greatest of all time! You know, Bob, facing Chelsea Skye feels less like a challenge and more like a chore. I mean, sure, she'll put up a fight, but in the end, she's just another stepping stone on my path. And trust me, I'm not planning on stumbling anytime soon.”
“Those are some strong words there, Amis,” Bob continued, though was interrupted by another booming response from the crowd who were focused on the live proceedings. “Don’t you think that your verbal attacks might provoke her to bring it even more inside the ring?”
“Okay let’s not give her too much fuckin’ credit here, Bob,” Amis scoffed as he responded with a dismissive tone, emphasising his own belief in his superiority. “If she’s thinking about getting some kind of fire in that belly of hers just because I’ve called her out for what she is, then she’s sorely mistaken. She can try but it won’t change a damn thing because, at the end of the day, she’s nothing more than a second-rate act trying to play in the big leagues. She’s out of her depth, she knows and I know it. The only person who doesn’t seem to get it is your simple ass.”
The Brawl interviewer is then caught by surprise as Amis Shelton forcibly removes the microphone from his grasp, followed by motioning for the camera to put more of a focus on him.
“Let’s not forget what we’re fighting for, a shot at a Heritage Championship at StrangleMania. It only makes sense that the greatest of all time should be on the card for the greatest wrestling event of all time. If that’s not wrestling heritage in itself then I don’t know what is,” Amis’s eyes lit up like a fire within, echoing his determined tone. “The bottom line is that title was made exactly for Amis Shelton, a bonafide legend of this industry. You want to talk about Chelsea Skye? Let’s talk about a wrestler who’s more interested in playing the victim than actually winning matches. She’s been complaining about some injustice or another but when it comes time to step up and show out, she’s nowhere to be found. Maybe she should stick to writing sad songs and leave the wrestling to the professionals.”
There was a slight pause as Amis allowed his words to hang in the air, with a piercing gaze down the lens of the camera.
“Chelsea Skye, the 'Nightmare Angel'? More like the 'Daydreaming Dipshit.' She struts around like she's some kind of badass, but we all know she's just a poser. I mean, come on, have you seen her in the ring? It's like watching a drunk toddler try to play tag,” A wicked smirk appears on The Renegade’s face as he continues to spill venom. “When she steps inside that ring in Shreveport, she’s going to learn real fast what happens to those who dare to dream about stepping in my way. Fuck her title ambitions, this is my time and everybody is living in Amis Shelton’s world now.”
“Here, catch,” Amis said after tossing the microphone back to its original owner, who scrambled trying to catch it.
The Renegade then forcibly walked past Bob Murray to continue his journey to the locker room, leaving the resident interviewer stunned at how quickly the segment had gotten out of his control. As the echoes of Amis's footsteps faded into the distance, Bob was left alone in the bustling chaos of the backstage area. His shoulders slumped with defeat, a defeated sigh escaping his lips as he watched The Renegade disappear from view, not even bothering to give him a second look as he purposefully walked towards the locker room area, turning corners and pushing through multiple doors on his way.
March 25th, 2024
Within Amis Shelton’s Subconsciousness
Within Amis Shelton’s Subconsciousness
Finally entering his designated locker room, Amis closes the door behind him, seeking a moment of respite amidst the chaos of the bustling backstage area. Yet as he turns to settle into the familiar surroundings, a strange sensation washes over him, like the shifting of tectonic plates beneath his feet. Before he could even fully comprehend what was happening, reality began to warp and twist around him. Suddenly, he finds himself standing not in his locker room but within what could only be described as an otherworldly prison cell setting.
And at the heart of it all, bound and restrained yet exuding a malevolent aura, lies the infamous inner demon that has long haunted Amis's psyche. Whilst the majority of its being is wrapped up tight, a single eye gleams with malice from beneath the shadowy shroud, fixated on him with a predatory intensity that would be enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. Amis stands tall, his defiant gaze meeting that of the inner demon, refusing to cower in its presence despite the weight of its dark influence. With a voice that resonates with determination, he begins to speak with a sense of resolve.
“Well look who it is… I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you but we both know that I’d be lying,” Amis starts, his voice carrying a hint of accusation as he addresses the manifested entity before him. “You were a constant presence in my life these past few years; a whisper in the dark, a shadow that lurks at the edge of my consciousness. You've haunted my dreams, tormented my thoughts…”
Despite the demon's obvious weakened state, Amis approaches with caution, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he surveys his surroundings. He knows better than to underestimate the creature that lurks within his mind, even in its current state of vulnerability.
“But lately that hasn’t been the case. I hadn’t so much heard a peep out of you ever since the night of the OD. It was only when I came into contact with that ‘thing’ Kisikil that you’ve reared your ugly head once again,” Amis remarks with a hint of a sneer. “But I suppose this is to be expected after all, it’s getting close to that big fight feel.”
The inner demon's response is a mere flicker of its eye, a silent acknowledgement of Amis's words. Though its power may be diminished, its presence still looms large within the confines of Amis's mind.
“Times like these used to get you all sorts of riled up,” Amis continues, his tone growing more assertive with each passing moment. “And as much as I tried to block you out, you just became more and more annoying, seriously every single big match felt like a handicap match, that’s how much control you used to have over me.”
The inner demon's response is a low growl, its voice silent but its intent unmistakable. It may be weakened, but it still seeks to exert its influence over Amis.
“But not anymore, this time around things are going to be different,” The Renegade declares with intent and conviction. “Now I’m the one in control and I can think clearly. Do you know how great it feels to focus on formulating a plan without having to listen to you constantly? That’s why tonight’s match vs Emmanuelle went as smoothly as it did. I said she’d fall victim to the Dragoon’s Glory knee strike and lo and behold, she crumbled. You used to have me running scared but those days are long gone. I grew tired of dancing to your tune a long fuckin’ time ago.”
Amis then stops in front of the inner demon, whose eye sharpens like a hungry devourer. Scared no longer, Amis outstretches his arms as if to taunt the beast a mere few metres in front of him.
Now you get to watch me shine and put Chelsea Skye through the Amis Shelton Wrestling Clinic,” A wide smirk is painted on his face. “You used to torture me with self-doubt and insecurities but now it’s your turn because all you can do now is watch me wrestle circles around her. She might think she stands a chance but once I’m done suplexing her from post to post she’ll be singing a different fuckin’ tune. Then she’ll suffer the same fate as Emmanuelle, a stiff knee to the face and I’m punching my ticket to StrangleMania.”
Amis lowers his arms as he enters a crouched stance to get to eye level with the grunting entity.
“And then you’ll have to sit through your biggest punishment so far,” Amis's tone had turned soft yet icy cold. “Because you’ll have to watch me beat Morgan Darkwater and raise that EWC Heritage Championship up high knowing there isn’t a fuckin’ thing you can do about it.”
Amis chuckles to himself as he takes a step backwards. The room begins to warp and distort again until The Renegade finds himself back inside his allocated locker room. Everything was under his control and he planned on keeping it that way. The scene fades to black.
And at the heart of it all, bound and restrained yet exuding a malevolent aura, lies the infamous inner demon that has long haunted Amis's psyche. Whilst the majority of its being is wrapped up tight, a single eye gleams with malice from beneath the shadowy shroud, fixated on him with a predatory intensity that would be enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. Amis stands tall, his defiant gaze meeting that of the inner demon, refusing to cower in its presence despite the weight of its dark influence. With a voice that resonates with determination, he begins to speak with a sense of resolve.
“Well look who it is… I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you but we both know that I’d be lying,” Amis starts, his voice carrying a hint of accusation as he addresses the manifested entity before him. “You were a constant presence in my life these past few years; a whisper in the dark, a shadow that lurks at the edge of my consciousness. You've haunted my dreams, tormented my thoughts…”
Despite the demon's obvious weakened state, Amis approaches with caution, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he surveys his surroundings. He knows better than to underestimate the creature that lurks within his mind, even in its current state of vulnerability.
“But lately that hasn’t been the case. I hadn’t so much heard a peep out of you ever since the night of the OD. It was only when I came into contact with that ‘thing’ Kisikil that you’ve reared your ugly head once again,” Amis remarks with a hint of a sneer. “But I suppose this is to be expected after all, it’s getting close to that big fight feel.”
The inner demon's response is a mere flicker of its eye, a silent acknowledgement of Amis's words. Though its power may be diminished, its presence still looms large within the confines of Amis's mind.
“Times like these used to get you all sorts of riled up,” Amis continues, his tone growing more assertive with each passing moment. “And as much as I tried to block you out, you just became more and more annoying, seriously every single big match felt like a handicap match, that’s how much control you used to have over me.”
The inner demon's response is a low growl, its voice silent but its intent unmistakable. It may be weakened, but it still seeks to exert its influence over Amis.
“But not anymore, this time around things are going to be different,” The Renegade declares with intent and conviction. “Now I’m the one in control and I can think clearly. Do you know how great it feels to focus on formulating a plan without having to listen to you constantly? That’s why tonight’s match vs Emmanuelle went as smoothly as it did. I said she’d fall victim to the Dragoon’s Glory knee strike and lo and behold, she crumbled. You used to have me running scared but those days are long gone. I grew tired of dancing to your tune a long fuckin’ time ago.”
Amis then stops in front of the inner demon, whose eye sharpens like a hungry devourer. Scared no longer, Amis outstretches his arms as if to taunt the beast a mere few metres in front of him.
Now you get to watch me shine and put Chelsea Skye through the Amis Shelton Wrestling Clinic,” A wide smirk is painted on his face. “You used to torture me with self-doubt and insecurities but now it’s your turn because all you can do now is watch me wrestle circles around her. She might think she stands a chance but once I’m done suplexing her from post to post she’ll be singing a different fuckin’ tune. Then she’ll suffer the same fate as Emmanuelle, a stiff knee to the face and I’m punching my ticket to StrangleMania.”
Amis lowers his arms as he enters a crouched stance to get to eye level with the grunting entity.
“And then you’ll have to sit through your biggest punishment so far,” Amis's tone had turned soft yet icy cold. “Because you’ll have to watch me beat Morgan Darkwater and raise that EWC Heritage Championship up high knowing there isn’t a fuckin’ thing you can do about it.”
Amis chuckles to himself as he takes a step backwards. The room begins to warp and distort again until The Renegade finds himself back inside his allocated locker room. Everything was under his control and he planned on keeping it that way. The scene fades to black.
