Post by Xavier Cross on Mar 26, 2010 15:52:28 GMT -6
The scene opens to a fist making contact with a punching bag, sending it swinging backwards. The camera pans out to show Xavier Cross in a pair of workout shorts, both his hands and ankles are wrapped up with medical tape. It seems the National Champion is purposely ignoring the camera, as he swings a hard, and high left kick to about the center of the bag. Cross quickly hops back, keeping his feet moving he avoids a invisible strike, before launching into a combination he uses quite often, the Blood, Sweat, and Tears.
Henry: “Cross! Take a break. The timer went off five minutes ago! You’re bag training is done, you’re going to over exert yourself.”
Xavier puts his hand up, Henry gives an annoyed look as Xavier hit’s a standing roundhouse kick to the top of the bag. Planting the kick foot down, he leans forward and connects with a leaping knee to what would be an average man’s head. Landing on his feet once more, Xavier staggers back sweat rolling down his face. Taking deep breathes he grins and looks at Henry.
Xavier: “Still can’t get that kick-to-knee combo going. I always lose my balance on the landing.”
Henry: “You’re putting too much emphasis on planting your foot after the roundhouse, making it less fluid. Once you’re able to put the motions together it’ll work.”
Xavier: “Whatever you say grandpa.”
Xavier grabs a towel, getting the sweat off his face. Leaving the towel draped across his head Xavier plops down on the gym floor. The actions around his vague and uninteresting to his vision, taking a slight drink from his water bottle, he turns his head back to Henry.
Xavier: “You think I’m goin to beat Brad?”
Henry: “Probably not, his strikes are faster and harder than yours. You may have him beat off of momentum moves, and you got your overall speed. But if he catches you once, and is able to add combinations to it. You’re done. Plus half of your technical moves are derived from stuff you’ve seen him do. You wanted to be a carbon copy, and an original at the same time. The fact is, the things you’re going to throw at Brad, he’ll already have scouted.”
Xavier: “Such confidence….”
Henry: “These are the facts kid, Brad may be a few months older than you, but he’s more of a veteran that you can imagine. You may have snuck a victory under your belt against him once, but doing it a second time is going to take a lot more than you’re showing me right now. You wanna hit him, hit harder, hit faster. You wanna make him tap out, do it with lightning speed, and put more pressure. If this match really means as much as you say it does, I should see more effort.”
Xavier just laughs as he leans his head against a wall. Henry looks more agitated than usual at Xavier. Cross quickly picks himself up, dropping the water bottle. He clinches his fist, to the point where his knuckles give off a cracking noise. His footsteps are slow, as he makes his way to a training ring. Grabbing onto the middle rope, he leaps onto the canvas and enters the ring.
Going through the rounds of preparation he leaps to the top rope of a turnbuckle before hopping down. Turning around, his back to the same corner he leans into it stretching his legs out. He looks up to see two young men entering the ring. One stays on the outside, while the other enters it warming up in the opposite corner. One a pale, shorter ginger fellow, the other a tall, larger man with a beard.
Henry: “Billy and Patrick here are going to help you loosen up. Basically its going to be a standard handicap match. I’ll act as referee out here.”
Xavier: “Staying out of the danger zone eh Gramps?”
The sound of a door opening across the gym doesn’t get Xavier’s attention, the two men singing however do.
Two Men(high pitched singing): “Gonna take a highway to….THE DANGER ZONE!”
A smile washes across Xavier’s face, he turns leaning on the turnbuckle to show a well dressed casual attired, bald black man, and a scruffy faced, perfect haired white guy.
Xavier: “Shawn, Gus! What are you doing here?”
Shawn: “Well…I go where ever the psychic wind shifts me….”
Gus: “We got tickets to Sovergien, and Shawn called n.C.w and told them he was your psych consoltent and that he needed to reach you immediately.”
Billy: “AREN’T YOU CHOCO-TACO THE LUCHADORE?!”
Shawn: “Yes, I am Psych-O Shawn, and this is…the Chocoholic himself.”
Xavier: “Look, we got a few more things to take care of, but if you guys don’t mind waiting?”
Gus and Shawn look at each other, and nod. Xavier gives them a thumbs up as they take seats watching the events unfold. Henry rings the bell as Xavier and Billy circle each other. Billy goes to lock up, but Xavier ducks under and wraps his hands around Billy’s waist. Putting his foot between, and then in front of Billy’s leg he is able to trip him and put him on the mat stomach first. Xavier pushes his forearm against the back of his opponents head before spinning into a headlock.
Xavier applies adequate pressure, but Billy stands up forcing Cross into enemy territory. Xavier’s back slams against the turnbuckle, as Patrick, the larger man makes a blind tag and clubs Xavier on the back of the head before entering the ring. Billy irish whips Xavier across the ropes, as Patrick follows suit charging. Xavier leaps onto the 2nd turnbuckle and hits what appears to be a moonsault, but due to Patrick’s height, it turns into a Pele kick. The larger man staggers backwards holding his head.
Gus: “Xavier Cross seemed to be in trouble there, but his ring awareness truly paid off.”
Shawn: “You have an amazing voice. Like a young James Brown…”
Gus: “You think so?”
Shawn: “You could totally do this professionally.”
Gus: “Eric Hardy eat your heart out.”
The two men fist bump, before looking back at Xavier who is avoiding the larger man by only inches using the speed advantage to its fullest. Patrick turns around, and Xavier hits him with a knife edge chop, Patrick staggers back clutching his chest. Xavier is prepare hitting a high roundhouse kick to the side of the giant’s head. Patrick staggers as Xavier rotates landing his foot, before leaping towards the ropes, and spring boarding himself backwards. As he rotates in the air, Cross is caught by the throat, by Patrick. Cross is lifted higher in the air looking to be nailed by a choke slam. Using his momentum, Xavier wraps his legs oddly around Patrick’s neck, and arm locking in a leg variation of the triangle choke, forcing the large man down.
Billy quickly enters the ring to break it up, but Xavier breaks the hold himself as he comes up like a man possessed catching Billy with a leaping knee. Billy staggers back into his corner as Xavier follows up with a running shining wizard, connecting with a huge clap of knee-to-face sound. Leaping backwards, Xavier waits for Billy to stagger out before catching him with a super kick. Patrick is back on his feet, charging at Xavier who turns in time to hit a drop-toe hold, which due to Patrick’s size sends him out of the ring.
Henry: “Time! Both opponents were taken out of the ring, and look to be knocked out. Idiots.”
Xavier: “Holy god that guy was huge…and that other one was like, too white. It was scary.”
Shawn: “And Xavier Cross conquers The Golly Green Giant, and Little Orphan Annie!”
Gus: “You know that’s right!”
-----
The scene opens back up at a small restaurant. The three men are sitting at a booth enjoying a dinner. Xavier is out of his gym clothes obviously, and looks a bit worn, but still wearing a smile.
Shawn: “Honestly, its good to see you stopped acting like such a tool.”
Gus: “Its not that we didn’t want to hang out with you anymore, its just…it gets annoying…”
Xavier: “No, don’t worry about it guys. I understand. I’ve been trying to change period, but recent events have kind of forced the issue.”
Gus: “Yeah…we’re sorry to hear about Cari…”
The dinner table grows silent for a second, before Shawn lifts his glass to break the slight awkwardness.
Shawn: “To Cari Cross. God rest her soul.”
The three men clank their glasses together, and Xavier lets out a sigh.
Xavier: “You think…I don’t know, since you’re psychic and all Shawn, you think…you could channel her?”
Shawn: “…Xavier…C’mon man, she wouldn’t want you to wallow, and I don’t contact them, they kind of…like phone me I guess…I get the occasional text, though most of them are like, ‘Oh…if you don’t send this to ten people I’ll haunt you.’
Xavier: “Oh…”
Gus: “Shawn’s right, Xavier man, I know it hurts, I know it sucks. But she wouldn’t want you to wallow around in grief. Look its easier said than done, but look at everything you’ve done in your life man, none of it has been easy.”
Shawn: “You’re a great guy Xavier. When ya know you aren’t a tool and all, but you got great friends, a great career, and a family who needs you. You can’t mope around.”
Gus: “You think Hulk Hogan would mope around?”
Shawn: “Depends, did Linda take his good hip.”
Gus: “Zing…but look, everyone has had their obstacles. Their walls they’ve have to climb.”
Shawn: “Some are higher than others, not like Jeff Hardy high, but you get the point.”
Gus: “You got a huge match coming up. This is like Hulk Hogan meets Ultimate Warrior, like Stone Cold vs. The Rock, like John Cena vs. Randy Orton. You guys have a bit of a past, the fans love you. This is your chance Xavier, elevate yourself.”
Shawn: “Just don’t end up like The Ultimate Warrior, that would be quite lame.”
Gus: “However face paint would be cool.”
Shawn: “Why don’t we wear face paint?”
Gus: “Because you have a terrible complexion and it breaks me out.”
Shawn: “Yeah…I remember that one Halloween you had like the Mask stuff going on, Cher one, not Jim Carey.”
Xavier: “I missed you guys.”
The camera pans away as the three men laugh and joke around while finishing up their meal. A smile placed on Xavier’s face the entire time.
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“It takes a friend to know how to pull someone out of a slump, whether it just be the average down in the dumps, or something terribly tragic. I’ve bore a burden on my chest for the entire month. I’ve taken it in stride, pulling off what some would say was a perfect end to a tragic story. Rising up and taking the National Championship from The Ace. But lets be honest, if you thought the Ace was going to beat me then well….you’re stupid.
That’s not my ego speaking, that’s just fact. I’m playing men’s pro basketball, Ace is still in the middle school playing with the girls. Its actually came to my attention recently that he’s been bantering on about something or another. But the things he said, they piss me off to no end. But instead of dragging it out, through the mud and what not, I’m going to tell him one thing so that he can get off my d*** and make his own success. So Ace, I’m going to tell you, like I told Jason Lovegun, man up, or get the f*** out. We don’t need your sorry British ass here to sell tickets, I’d much rather see Freakke vs. Jack Wilde before I’d want your sorry ass in the ring.
Now that I got that out of the way, Brad. This is the last thing you’ll hear from me until Sunday. I’m going to shut the camera’s off and get ready, get prepared. I’m going to be in the gym most of the time. I’m going to the airport tomorrow night and flying out to the arena. You want this title, you want to beat me. You’ve busted your ass for so long, you deserve this shot, hell you deserve this title.
But you won’t get it, not without your best. I told you once, I’m not the same ‘little brother’ that you’ve fought against in the past. I’m not the same guy who was overshadowed by has-beens and pathetic losers like Hardaway, Vice, and Thunder. Nor will I be cast away by better fighters like yourself, Warner, and a man who first took me under his wing, T-Money. This is a different game, this is a different man.
You realize that though, you understand the changes I’ve gone through because you’ve been through similar ones Brad. So let me ask you, put yourself where I am. Who was your Brad Kane, was it Spike? was it Lance? Who was it, what was finally the guy who elevated you to the top of your game. Beating you, and Losing to you are two things that I can accept. However, the first option is what will finally take me to the top of my game. Because Brad, in my heart of hearts, I know beating you is what I truly need to realize that I am one of the greatest.
You prepare harder, you fight harder, you’re a man who takes calculated risks, who may been the smartest risk taker in the business. We’re so similar in style, and personal effects. We’ve had our hardships, our failures, our shining moments, as well as our successes.
The record stands at 1-1. So who is going to win best out of three Brad. I bet me, you bet you. So lets give ‘em a show shall we?…I’ll c’ya Sunday….”
That’s not my ego speaking, that’s just fact. I’m playing men’s pro basketball, Ace is still in the middle school playing with the girls. Its actually came to my attention recently that he’s been bantering on about something or another. But the things he said, they piss me off to no end. But instead of dragging it out, through the mud and what not, I’m going to tell him one thing so that he can get off my d*** and make his own success. So Ace, I’m going to tell you, like I told Jason Lovegun, man up, or get the f*** out. We don’t need your sorry British ass here to sell tickets, I’d much rather see Freakke vs. Jack Wilde before I’d want your sorry ass in the ring.
Now that I got that out of the way, Brad. This is the last thing you’ll hear from me until Sunday. I’m going to shut the camera’s off and get ready, get prepared. I’m going to be in the gym most of the time. I’m going to the airport tomorrow night and flying out to the arena. You want this title, you want to beat me. You’ve busted your ass for so long, you deserve this shot, hell you deserve this title.
But you won’t get it, not without your best. I told you once, I’m not the same ‘little brother’ that you’ve fought against in the past. I’m not the same guy who was overshadowed by has-beens and pathetic losers like Hardaway, Vice, and Thunder. Nor will I be cast away by better fighters like yourself, Warner, and a man who first took me under his wing, T-Money. This is a different game, this is a different man.
You realize that though, you understand the changes I’ve gone through because you’ve been through similar ones Brad. So let me ask you, put yourself where I am. Who was your Brad Kane, was it Spike? was it Lance? Who was it, what was finally the guy who elevated you to the top of your game. Beating you, and Losing to you are two things that I can accept. However, the first option is what will finally take me to the top of my game. Because Brad, in my heart of hearts, I know beating you is what I truly need to realize that I am one of the greatest.
You prepare harder, you fight harder, you’re a man who takes calculated risks, who may been the smartest risk taker in the business. We’re so similar in style, and personal effects. We’ve had our hardships, our failures, our shining moments, as well as our successes.
The record stands at 1-1. So who is going to win best out of three Brad. I bet me, you bet you. So lets give ‘em a show shall we?…I’ll c’ya Sunday….”