Post by "The Genius" James Davis on Apr 4, 2010 22:03:55 GMT -6
The locker room is empty except for James, who stands near his duffel bag, a white towel protruding from it. He unlaces his boots and takes off his elbow pads.
James paces along the bench. He bounces on his feet, taking a few jabs at the air. The camera man points, signalling that he is recording.
"It's like it was yesterday, watching the crowd go bananas, chanting my name. I can remember standing there, sweating, breathing hard after a hellacious match.. Just basking in it all."
He stops bouncing and picks up a towel, mopping off the sweat forming on his brow.
"I can remember those moments, somehow, and that I was thinking to myself, 'What a journey it has been!' The moments of lucidity when you realize just how far you've come."
He tosses down the towel and looks at the camera. His eyebrows furrow.
"I spent years in Mexico, facing down giants and midgets.. Every night was epic. Not to say that all of the matches were glorious, the culture is different down there. Every match is 'good' versus 'evil', more than the sideshow drama you see on cable television in the States. They fight with ferocity unmatched, eager to prove their worth! They don't do it for money or for fans, it's for the respect! The 'heroes', the 'villains', all pushing their bodies to the limit for the glory of being revered. Or feared."
James paces for a moment, his boots squeaking as he turns.
"Now, I find myself with a momentous chance. An opportunity to do it again, to claim a spot on the pedestal of glory! I debut soon, a match that may seem to some as 'lacking-luster'."
He stops, turns, stretching his arms.
"But this is more than just my debut.. I face off against new faces, not just to me, but to NCW as a whole! One in particular, gives me pause."
He pulls the camera close.
"Payne."
He lets go, the camera man mumbles something about 'touching him' and being 'disgusted'.
"Daddy's little boy all grown up. We have something in common, aside from being new to this organization.. We both had training from your father, Christian."
James smiles, knowing the old man's pet peeve.
"But you see, Chris, I didn't learn everything from your father. I didn't spend my life growing up in his shadow. I tarried in it for a brief moment, but broke free of his ego. For it casts a shadow larger than he can."
James picks up his sweatshirt and throws it on.
"I've studied the tapes though, got a good idea how I'm going to approach the match. It took some time to find them and most of what I've seen isn't that impressive. Green-horns, that's what you were. That doesn't help me much. What has helped is what I have seen recently. The spirit you all show in the ring. Especially Tommy Victor. I saw some revelations in those matches, things that made me think again about how I handle this. If anyone has something to prove, it's a man who has returned."
James grins.
"Perhaps Payne has just as much to prove, since his dad seems to as well. Shaking off the dust from those bones, Christian? Your son is fresh, probably capable of dealing you a good fight. But, I'll talk about you later. I'm going to teach your son a few things about.. pain."
He scratches his head, shaking it in confusion.
"I can't even begin to understand Doe. It's like his insanity seeps into you during his match. I've faced some nut-jobs in my time, like this one masked wrestler named Pollo Loco... Dressed up like a chicken. He was nuts. But Doe? He's just plain crazy! But, that may be the key to his strategy.. being crazy random so no one knows what you're going to pull next. There is some genius in madness, hell, there's only a thin line between the two! But there must be ordered chaos, Doe, otherwise, you're everywhere and nowhere at the same time."
James sits and takes off his boots.
"The problem with all of this is.. How am I going to pull out a win? With three men, how does one stand above the rest? How does he, a single challenger, attain victory over the others? That's actually a simple thing really, it shouldn't take a genius to figure it out."
He puts his boots in the duffel bag.
"I'm going to win, because I'm smarter than you."
The camera fades to black.
James paces along the bench. He bounces on his feet, taking a few jabs at the air. The camera man points, signalling that he is recording.
"It's like it was yesterday, watching the crowd go bananas, chanting my name. I can remember standing there, sweating, breathing hard after a hellacious match.. Just basking in it all."
He stops bouncing and picks up a towel, mopping off the sweat forming on his brow.
"I can remember those moments, somehow, and that I was thinking to myself, 'What a journey it has been!' The moments of lucidity when you realize just how far you've come."
He tosses down the towel and looks at the camera. His eyebrows furrow.
"I spent years in Mexico, facing down giants and midgets.. Every night was epic. Not to say that all of the matches were glorious, the culture is different down there. Every match is 'good' versus 'evil', more than the sideshow drama you see on cable television in the States. They fight with ferocity unmatched, eager to prove their worth! They don't do it for money or for fans, it's for the respect! The 'heroes', the 'villains', all pushing their bodies to the limit for the glory of being revered. Or feared."
James paces for a moment, his boots squeaking as he turns.
"Now, I find myself with a momentous chance. An opportunity to do it again, to claim a spot on the pedestal of glory! I debut soon, a match that may seem to some as 'lacking-luster'."
He stops, turns, stretching his arms.
"But this is more than just my debut.. I face off against new faces, not just to me, but to NCW as a whole! One in particular, gives me pause."
He pulls the camera close.
"Payne."
He lets go, the camera man mumbles something about 'touching him' and being 'disgusted'.
"Daddy's little boy all grown up. We have something in common, aside from being new to this organization.. We both had training from your father, Christian."
James smiles, knowing the old man's pet peeve.
"But you see, Chris, I didn't learn everything from your father. I didn't spend my life growing up in his shadow. I tarried in it for a brief moment, but broke free of his ego. For it casts a shadow larger than he can."
James picks up his sweatshirt and throws it on.
"I've studied the tapes though, got a good idea how I'm going to approach the match. It took some time to find them and most of what I've seen isn't that impressive. Green-horns, that's what you were. That doesn't help me much. What has helped is what I have seen recently. The spirit you all show in the ring. Especially Tommy Victor. I saw some revelations in those matches, things that made me think again about how I handle this. If anyone has something to prove, it's a man who has returned."
James grins.
"Perhaps Payne has just as much to prove, since his dad seems to as well. Shaking off the dust from those bones, Christian? Your son is fresh, probably capable of dealing you a good fight. But, I'll talk about you later. I'm going to teach your son a few things about.. pain."
He scratches his head, shaking it in confusion.
"I can't even begin to understand Doe. It's like his insanity seeps into you during his match. I've faced some nut-jobs in my time, like this one masked wrestler named Pollo Loco... Dressed up like a chicken. He was nuts. But Doe? He's just plain crazy! But, that may be the key to his strategy.. being crazy random so no one knows what you're going to pull next. There is some genius in madness, hell, there's only a thin line between the two! But there must be ordered chaos, Doe, otherwise, you're everywhere and nowhere at the same time."
James sits and takes off his boots.
"The problem with all of this is.. How am I going to pull out a win? With three men, how does one stand above the rest? How does he, a single challenger, attain victory over the others? That's actually a simple thing really, it shouldn't take a genius to figure it out."
He puts his boots in the duffel bag.
"I'm going to win, because I'm smarter than you."
The camera fades to black.