Post by The LEO on Mar 2, 2023 1:23:12 GMT -5
Cue Top Gun Anthem.
0500 hours.
Fort Hood.
The silhouette of a perfect male specimen jogs up a steep hill. Each step punishing the earth. In the backdrop, a bright, orange sun slowly starts to rise. A quick cut shows dog tags around the man’s thick, muscular neck.
“LEO”
He demolishes the run. The workout more punishing for the hill than the man. Once at the top, he hits the ground and does a thousand push ups. Five hundred regular. Six hundred one armed, split between each limb.
An eagle soars overhead. It screeches with respect, admiring the finely tuned specimen tearing shit up beneath it. LEO pops to his feet and leaps up, snagging a tree branch. A series of pull ups ensue...each one easier than the last. His giant, ripped biceps threatening to destroy whatever dares cross them.
The tree begs him to stop. Stop before this pinnacle of penis rips its very last root from the hard, rocky Texas terrain. He finally obliges. Releasing his vice grip and hitting the ground with both feet. The Earth trembles.
He turns, staring into the camera.
And.
Wait.
Hold on.
Sorry.
Wrong Leo.
12:47pm
Apartment De Leo
The day is half over. Most people are putting the final touches on their afternoon meal, preparing to head back to the office to finish their daily shift. LEO, however, is just getting started.
He lays in bed, staring at the wall. Should he get up? OR, should he roll around for another thirty minutes dreaming about Sydney Sweeney’s boobs? He leans toward the latter.
UNTIL, he remembers a toxic tweet he sent out at 2am the previous evening.
“Oh boy!” he hops out of bed, eager to read the reactions.
But first, the man must piss. Walking past his bedroom window, the mid-day sun beats on his silhouette, showing a stick like figure. Bones and skin and a few hairs. Standing in front of the toilet, he yawns, pulling his boxers down so he can unleash the beast. A strong, healthy stream hits the toilet water as he makes sexy faces in the mirror. His boxers fall to the ground, the discharge of liquid amounting to about 10% of his body weight and, thus, sending his waist size down a few numbers.
Finished, the man flushes and washes his hands. He throws on some gym shorts and a T-shirt that reads ‘Orgasm Donor’ and heads into the kitchen.
The kitchen cabinet provides a box of fruity pebbles. Sadly, no milk to go along with it. Whatever, he’ll just eat them out of the box.
Ass in chair, phone in one hand, pebbles in the other, LEO enjoys his morning breakfast.
“Haha, oh that idiot is so TRIGGERED,” he scrolls. “LOL oh man he’s such a MORON!” he scrolls. “Oh, check this out, this is REALLY gonna piss them off!” he goes to send another very toxic tweet when a loud fist beats at his door.
“I’M BUSY!” Leo yells back like a person who has never handled a knock at the door before.
Which is apropos because the person on the other end exhibits the same kind of manners, kicking in the door and storming toward Leo.
“Hey, bro! This is, like, illegal!”
“Get your ass up, boy! We’ve got some training to do!”
LEO’s eyes widen. He’s frozen in time as the following man stands before him.
“The name’s Shane Queston and Marcus Welsh sent me to get you ready for a man I’m all too familiar with. He sent me to get you ready for...Dane Preston.”
Leo leans back. His fear subsides to the cocksure attitude that wins over all the ladies on twitter. Unfortunately, he’s about to find out this isn’t the internet. “Yea, whatever, SHANE. Why don’t you take that stupid haircut and go stick your face up some clowns butthole.”
Shane’s eyes fill with rage. He snatches Leo by the neck and drags him out of the apartment.
3:22pm
OCW Training Facility
Shane Queston looks on. He can’t believe it. Is this really what the male specimen has devolved into?
Leo throws one punch at a heavy bag. He falls to the ground, holding his fist. Shane, standing over him, hands on his hips, shakes his head. He doesn’t have the words.
The glove is ripped off and Leo massages his hand, “I think I broke something.”
“You hit that thing with the force of a snail.”
Leo tries to shoot Shane a menacing look. Shane kicks dust off the ground into Leo’s face. Leo yelps.
“Pathetic. Can you do a push up?”
“A what?”
“A pull up?”
“I don’t wear diapers! I’m not a baby!”
“That’s not what…” Shane doesn’t see the point. This might just be one of those hopeless endeavors. Take the money, put in the necessary hours, and get the fuck outta there. There’s no coaching this dude up. “Fine, just lay there. Probably the only hope you have of not being murdered by Dane.”
Shane walks away. Leo, emasculated, humiliated...and, worst of all, instilled with the fear that Dane Preston might kill him, calls out, “Where are you going? Aren’t you supposed to help me?”
“I’m going to go help myself,” he calls back before speaking under his breath, “to some Vicky Stone videos.”
Ya boy Leo is distraught. He tries putting the boxing glove back on his hand but can’t seem to figure it out.
“Leo.”
Startled, Leo pops to his feet, hiding the glove. He throws a few weak jabs at the heavy bag, hopping around.
“Moonlight.”
It’s Moonlight Rose! One of OCW’s top young stars. A true member of the PROUD AND STRONG. She watches him fail at punching the bag.
“You don’t have to do that on my accord. I really don’t care if you can punch.”
“Oh thank goodness,” Leo sighs, pulling his hand back and rubbing it, wincing.
“Dane’s gonna kick your ass.”
“What? Girl, I don’t know…’
She cuts him off, “He is. He’s gonna walk right into OCW. The home of the PROUD AND STRONG and beat the heck out of you. All because of your mouth.”
“Listen, this…”
“Unless.”
Hmm, that’s interesting. Leo looks around, “Unless...what?”
“You let me help you. Let me be at ringside and I’ll help you win. We can’t let this guy just come in here, on our home turf, and beat you up. I mean, like it or not,” and it’s clear she hates it, “you are sort of the mouth piece of this place.”
Beaming with pride, Leo stares up at the ceiling, “That’s right, I am.”
“Not exactly a compliment.”
And just like that his pride has been stolen. He folds his arms, “Well, I don’t need your help, Moonlight. Maybe if it were Easton. But not you. So, just scram. I’m training with Shane. Shane Queston. And he’s gonna have me ready to whip Dane Preston’s ass!”
A door slams in the background.
Leo looks side to side, his arms folded. Moonlight stares at him.
“Did he just leave?”
“Yep, your only hope just left you.”
“Fuck,” Leo lowers his head.
“Just let me be at ringside, okay? You need me.”
“No, I’m not gonna rely on a girl!”
She can’t believe the words that just fell out of this idiot’s mouth. And, she’s not gonna hear anymore. Moonlight turns to leave.
“Oh, so you’re just gonna leave?”
Moonlight stops. Leo’s on the verge of getting his ass kicked. Instead, she turns around and chews him out.
“God you are so stupid. How the FUCK do you expect to beat him? What have you got?”
“I’ve got…” Leo looks around. He sees his phone in the corner of the room, “I’ve got my words!”
What a ridiculous gameplan. To Moonlight, anyway. She scoffs, throws her hands up, and walks away. “Words won’t save you, Leo. Have fun staring at the lights.”
He’s all alone.
Weak.
Vulnerable.
Full of self doubt.
Leo grabs his phone. He needs to write. Use his words. Maybe it’ll help.
Dane Preston. I remember the exact moment you came into my life. Or, more accurately, burst onto the scene. I’d never heard of you. I was too busy trolling the James Ravens and Peter Vaughns of the world.
And then, there you were. I won’t get into the details because, in this forum, it’s kinda sketch. But let’s just say ‘parking lot’.
Ever since then you’ve been on my radar, boy. You and that hair. That jawline. Hell, I even got the company to create a rip off of ya in the form of Dane Princeton. I made sure to promote the hell out of that guy, just in the hopes it’d bug ya.
To your credit, you handled my game better than most. But I know it got to ya. Hell, the proof of that is mixed right into the pudding that is the challenge you’ve been crowing about for weeks.
I’ve done everything I can to keep you out of OCW, Dane.
When they wanted you in the MIX I told them it was dumb. But, they took you anyway. And, guess what happened? Your dumb face proved that ya boy Leo was correct.
And then these STUPID contract negotiations started out of, I don’t know, thin fucking air is how I remember it. Out of nowhere you just appeared on my timeline and next thing I know we’re arguing numbers like I’m supposed to be the guy recruiting you to this place.
I’m no recruiter, Dane. I’m just a shit stirrer.
But, even if I was, I sure as shit wouldn’t recruit you. Maybe SEB. Maybe that Pinkston kid. Hell, I worked my magic on Vhodka.
Not you, though.
Never you.
Which is why I low balled the fuck out of you. Chump change. The kind of shit a fry cook at McDonalds would bitch about.
Yet, you just wouldn’t go away. No matter how insulting an offer I threw at you, you just kept coming. Kept bringing it up.
You wouldn’t fucking die.
Then you got the attention of Adi who, bless her heart, is so oblivious to what constitutes a decent human being that she chooses to spend most of her free time with Thunder Knuckles.
Your constant showmanship and badgering spilled onto her timeline and...well, then January 29th happened.
Decadence. A CELEBRATION. The greatest Paradigm Champion in the history of OCW, Sahara was dominating Crash. Another win all but guaranteed. Her ascension to #1 contender all but assured.
It was over. It was done. She had it WON.
Can you guess what happened next?
Of course you fucking can. Because you were there. Just like how you appeared on my radar from that parking lot. Just like how you appeared in the Margarita Mix. And, just like how you manifested out of thin air like some shit demon arguing about a contract with OCW.
You threw yourself onto the scene at Decadence. Hopping that guardrail and costing Sahara her Paradigm Title, her OCW Title shot and, well, probably her OCW career.
How happy you must have been.
But was that enough? No. Because you’re still at it.
When will it stop, Dane? When will it end? When will you finally GO THE FUCK AWAY?
I’ll tell you when.
THIS Monday, at Massacre. When I pin and humble you to the world. When I show that Dane Preston is more akin to Dane Princeton than he’d ever like to admit.
This is the land of the Proud and Strong, Dane. I’m sure that doesn’t mean much to you. Which is fine, because you don’t have the slightest fuckin clue what PROUD AND STRONG is all about.
Until you step in the ring with me, that is. And then, well, it’ll be a lesson you won’t forget.
And once you realize just how fuckin far from PROUD AND STRONG you really are. Maybe then you’ll stay the fuck out of my mentions.
See ya soon.
0500 hours.
Fort Hood.
The silhouette of a perfect male specimen jogs up a steep hill. Each step punishing the earth. In the backdrop, a bright, orange sun slowly starts to rise. A quick cut shows dog tags around the man’s thick, muscular neck.
“LEO”
He demolishes the run. The workout more punishing for the hill than the man. Once at the top, he hits the ground and does a thousand push ups. Five hundred regular. Six hundred one armed, split between each limb.
An eagle soars overhead. It screeches with respect, admiring the finely tuned specimen tearing shit up beneath it. LEO pops to his feet and leaps up, snagging a tree branch. A series of pull ups ensue...each one easier than the last. His giant, ripped biceps threatening to destroy whatever dares cross them.
The tree begs him to stop. Stop before this pinnacle of penis rips its very last root from the hard, rocky Texas terrain. He finally obliges. Releasing his vice grip and hitting the ground with both feet. The Earth trembles.
He turns, staring into the camera.
And.
Wait.
Hold on.
Sorry.
Wrong Leo.
12:47pm
Apartment De Leo
The day is half over. Most people are putting the final touches on their afternoon meal, preparing to head back to the office to finish their daily shift. LEO, however, is just getting started.
He lays in bed, staring at the wall. Should he get up? OR, should he roll around for another thirty minutes dreaming about Sydney Sweeney’s boobs? He leans toward the latter.
UNTIL, he remembers a toxic tweet he sent out at 2am the previous evening.
“Oh boy!” he hops out of bed, eager to read the reactions.
But first, the man must piss. Walking past his bedroom window, the mid-day sun beats on his silhouette, showing a stick like figure. Bones and skin and a few hairs. Standing in front of the toilet, he yawns, pulling his boxers down so he can unleash the beast. A strong, healthy stream hits the toilet water as he makes sexy faces in the mirror. His boxers fall to the ground, the discharge of liquid amounting to about 10% of his body weight and, thus, sending his waist size down a few numbers.
Finished, the man flushes and washes his hands. He throws on some gym shorts and a T-shirt that reads ‘Orgasm Donor’ and heads into the kitchen.
The kitchen cabinet provides a box of fruity pebbles. Sadly, no milk to go along with it. Whatever, he’ll just eat them out of the box.
Ass in chair, phone in one hand, pebbles in the other, LEO enjoys his morning breakfast.
“Haha, oh that idiot is so TRIGGERED,” he scrolls. “LOL oh man he’s such a MORON!” he scrolls. “Oh, check this out, this is REALLY gonna piss them off!” he goes to send another very toxic tweet when a loud fist beats at his door.
“I’M BUSY!” Leo yells back like a person who has never handled a knock at the door before.
Which is apropos because the person on the other end exhibits the same kind of manners, kicking in the door and storming toward Leo.
“Hey, bro! This is, like, illegal!”
“Get your ass up, boy! We’ve got some training to do!”
LEO’s eyes widen. He’s frozen in time as the following man stands before him.
“The name’s Shane Queston and Marcus Welsh sent me to get you ready for a man I’m all too familiar with. He sent me to get you ready for...Dane Preston.”
Leo leans back. His fear subsides to the cocksure attitude that wins over all the ladies on twitter. Unfortunately, he’s about to find out this isn’t the internet. “Yea, whatever, SHANE. Why don’t you take that stupid haircut and go stick your face up some clowns butthole.”
Shane’s eyes fill with rage. He snatches Leo by the neck and drags him out of the apartment.
3:22pm
OCW Training Facility
Shane Queston looks on. He can’t believe it. Is this really what the male specimen has devolved into?
Leo throws one punch at a heavy bag. He falls to the ground, holding his fist. Shane, standing over him, hands on his hips, shakes his head. He doesn’t have the words.
The glove is ripped off and Leo massages his hand, “I think I broke something.”
“You hit that thing with the force of a snail.”
Leo tries to shoot Shane a menacing look. Shane kicks dust off the ground into Leo’s face. Leo yelps.
“Pathetic. Can you do a push up?”
“A what?”
“A pull up?”
“I don’t wear diapers! I’m not a baby!”
“That’s not what…” Shane doesn’t see the point. This might just be one of those hopeless endeavors. Take the money, put in the necessary hours, and get the fuck outta there. There’s no coaching this dude up. “Fine, just lay there. Probably the only hope you have of not being murdered by Dane.”
Shane walks away. Leo, emasculated, humiliated...and, worst of all, instilled with the fear that Dane Preston might kill him, calls out, “Where are you going? Aren’t you supposed to help me?”
“I’m going to go help myself,” he calls back before speaking under his breath, “to some Vicky Stone videos.”
Ya boy Leo is distraught. He tries putting the boxing glove back on his hand but can’t seem to figure it out.
“Leo.”
Startled, Leo pops to his feet, hiding the glove. He throws a few weak jabs at the heavy bag, hopping around.
“Moonlight.”
It’s Moonlight Rose! One of OCW’s top young stars. A true member of the PROUD AND STRONG. She watches him fail at punching the bag.
“You don’t have to do that on my accord. I really don’t care if you can punch.”
“Oh thank goodness,” Leo sighs, pulling his hand back and rubbing it, wincing.
“Dane’s gonna kick your ass.”
“What? Girl, I don’t know…’
She cuts him off, “He is. He’s gonna walk right into OCW. The home of the PROUD AND STRONG and beat the heck out of you. All because of your mouth.”
“Listen, this…”
“Unless.”
Hmm, that’s interesting. Leo looks around, “Unless...what?”
“You let me help you. Let me be at ringside and I’ll help you win. We can’t let this guy just come in here, on our home turf, and beat you up. I mean, like it or not,” and it’s clear she hates it, “you are sort of the mouth piece of this place.”
Beaming with pride, Leo stares up at the ceiling, “That’s right, I am.”
“Not exactly a compliment.”
And just like that his pride has been stolen. He folds his arms, “Well, I don’t need your help, Moonlight. Maybe if it were Easton. But not you. So, just scram. I’m training with Shane. Shane Queston. And he’s gonna have me ready to whip Dane Preston’s ass!”
A door slams in the background.
Leo looks side to side, his arms folded. Moonlight stares at him.
“Did he just leave?”
“Yep, your only hope just left you.”
“Fuck,” Leo lowers his head.
“Just let me be at ringside, okay? You need me.”
“No, I’m not gonna rely on a girl!”
She can’t believe the words that just fell out of this idiot’s mouth. And, she’s not gonna hear anymore. Moonlight turns to leave.
“Oh, so you’re just gonna leave?”
Moonlight stops. Leo’s on the verge of getting his ass kicked. Instead, she turns around and chews him out.
“God you are so stupid. How the FUCK do you expect to beat him? What have you got?”
“I’ve got…” Leo looks around. He sees his phone in the corner of the room, “I’ve got my words!”
What a ridiculous gameplan. To Moonlight, anyway. She scoffs, throws her hands up, and walks away. “Words won’t save you, Leo. Have fun staring at the lights.”
He’s all alone.
Weak.
Vulnerable.
Full of self doubt.
Leo grabs his phone. He needs to write. Use his words. Maybe it’ll help.
Dane Preston. I remember the exact moment you came into my life. Or, more accurately, burst onto the scene. I’d never heard of you. I was too busy trolling the James Ravens and Peter Vaughns of the world.
And then, there you were. I won’t get into the details because, in this forum, it’s kinda sketch. But let’s just say ‘parking lot’.
Ever since then you’ve been on my radar, boy. You and that hair. That jawline. Hell, I even got the company to create a rip off of ya in the form of Dane Princeton. I made sure to promote the hell out of that guy, just in the hopes it’d bug ya.
To your credit, you handled my game better than most. But I know it got to ya. Hell, the proof of that is mixed right into the pudding that is the challenge you’ve been crowing about for weeks.
I’ve done everything I can to keep you out of OCW, Dane.
When they wanted you in the MIX I told them it was dumb. But, they took you anyway. And, guess what happened? Your dumb face proved that ya boy Leo was correct.
And then these STUPID contract negotiations started out of, I don’t know, thin fucking air is how I remember it. Out of nowhere you just appeared on my timeline and next thing I know we’re arguing numbers like I’m supposed to be the guy recruiting you to this place.
I’m no recruiter, Dane. I’m just a shit stirrer.
But, even if I was, I sure as shit wouldn’t recruit you. Maybe SEB. Maybe that Pinkston kid. Hell, I worked my magic on Vhodka.
Not you, though.
Never you.
Which is why I low balled the fuck out of you. Chump change. The kind of shit a fry cook at McDonalds would bitch about.
Yet, you just wouldn’t go away. No matter how insulting an offer I threw at you, you just kept coming. Kept bringing it up.
You wouldn’t fucking die.
Then you got the attention of Adi who, bless her heart, is so oblivious to what constitutes a decent human being that she chooses to spend most of her free time with Thunder Knuckles.
Your constant showmanship and badgering spilled onto her timeline and...well, then January 29th happened.
Decadence. A CELEBRATION. The greatest Paradigm Champion in the history of OCW, Sahara was dominating Crash. Another win all but guaranteed. Her ascension to #1 contender all but assured.
It was over. It was done. She had it WON.
Can you guess what happened next?
Of course you fucking can. Because you were there. Just like how you appeared on my radar from that parking lot. Just like how you appeared in the Margarita Mix. And, just like how you manifested out of thin air like some shit demon arguing about a contract with OCW.
You threw yourself onto the scene at Decadence. Hopping that guardrail and costing Sahara her Paradigm Title, her OCW Title shot and, well, probably her OCW career.
How happy you must have been.
But was that enough? No. Because you’re still at it.
When will it stop, Dane? When will it end? When will you finally GO THE FUCK AWAY?
I’ll tell you when.
THIS Monday, at Massacre. When I pin and humble you to the world. When I show that Dane Preston is more akin to Dane Princeton than he’d ever like to admit.
This is the land of the Proud and Strong, Dane. I’m sure that doesn’t mean much to you. Which is fine, because you don’t have the slightest fuckin clue what PROUD AND STRONG is all about.
Until you step in the ring with me, that is. And then, well, it’ll be a lesson you won’t forget.
And once you realize just how fuckin far from PROUD AND STRONG you really are. Maybe then you’ll stay the fuck out of my mentions.
See ya soon.