Post by "The Genius" James Davis on Apr 5, 2010 18:46:29 GMT -6
James sits in an empty office, watching television. He's dressed in sweatpants and tank top, towel over one shoulder. He's sweating, tired from a few hours of working out.
His fist tightens suddenly, teeth clenching at whatever he is seeing on the screen.
"Damn! I should have seen that!" he says angrily, "I should have known it was coming!"
James snatches up the remote and presses a button. He wipes his forehead of sweat and leaves the towel hanging on his shoulder. He stares at the television, screen still out of view.
"It's been a while, Payne. It really has." he says, not looking at the camera, "Perhaps too long."
James stands and walks over to a desk, dropping the remote down on it and turns around. He takes off the towel, mops his head again and tosses it aside.
"I'm sure you've got yourself through the doubts, the nagging feeling that you just can't cut it anymore.. Sure, you've shaken off the rust, stretched out your ligaments, and hoped you don't tear one of those ancient muscles you keep dragging around."
He sits on the edge of the desk, narrowing his eyes a bit.
"Your son doesn't have that problem, does he, Christian? No, I think he's got himself in good shape, probably better than you ever were. And now.. now, I get to test him."
James smirks, waving his hands around a bit before perching them on the desk's edge.
"It's all relative really. You train, you study, you cram all this information into your brain and muscle memory, hoping that you pass... But I have a paradox for you, Christian! Age does not dictate experience! Sure, you've been there, done that. We've danced enough to know each other's moves, know each other's weaknesses, strengths.. But does your son have what it takes to beat me? Did you impart all your knowledge to your son? You're probably sitting with him now, going over the best way to trounce me, figuring out that old elbow injury is still good strategy."
He smiles, turning his head slightly.
"Oh, wait.. You're not on the best of terms now, are you? So, perhaps this little rant should be directed at my opponent instead. Well, opponents - plural. There are three of you, after all."
James drops his smile and adopts a casual posture.
"I've got my hands full trying to figure out this guy Doe. I can't make any sense of him. The only thing that makes any sense is chaos. Now, I've tripped through the 'Chaos Theory' a thousand times, the butterfly's wings that cause a typhoon? Sure you've heard of it. Like I said before though, order in chaos. I'm going to prove that theory Friday. I'm going to eliminate any random elements.. If I am correct, he won't know what to do with his precious world shattered. All that chaos.. If only it were directed!"
He breaks off, appearing to be in thought. James snaps back, looking determined.
"Victor. Tommy Victor. The only real veteran who'll be in the ring. I've studied your matches, can't say I don't know the weak points in your game plan. Against you, the other two barely matter. Perhaps you should spend some time with Christian, except he'd bore you. Probably tell you he's cooler because he spent more time out of the ring than you. I know you're going to bring your best, Tommy. I'm counting on it."
James stands and walks over to the chair, puts a leg up and tightens his laces.
"Basically fellas," he chuckles, "You'll have to step it up. We all have something to prove here, each one of us. I won't let myself be made an example. I'm not going to just roll over and I don't expect any of you to do it either."
James puts his foot down and walks over to his towel.
"Friday is going to be a night of tests. Study hard."
James walks out of the office and the camera pans down to the television.
The scene is paused mid action, a ring and two people inside.
James is in the corner, punching an opponent and something is moving fast behind him.
Christian Payne swings a chair, aiming for Jame's back.
Fade to black.
His fist tightens suddenly, teeth clenching at whatever he is seeing on the screen.
"Damn! I should have seen that!" he says angrily, "I should have known it was coming!"
James snatches up the remote and presses a button. He wipes his forehead of sweat and leaves the towel hanging on his shoulder. He stares at the television, screen still out of view.
"It's been a while, Payne. It really has." he says, not looking at the camera, "Perhaps too long."
James stands and walks over to a desk, dropping the remote down on it and turns around. He takes off the towel, mops his head again and tosses it aside.
"I'm sure you've got yourself through the doubts, the nagging feeling that you just can't cut it anymore.. Sure, you've shaken off the rust, stretched out your ligaments, and hoped you don't tear one of those ancient muscles you keep dragging around."
He sits on the edge of the desk, narrowing his eyes a bit.
"Your son doesn't have that problem, does he, Christian? No, I think he's got himself in good shape, probably better than you ever were. And now.. now, I get to test him."
James smirks, waving his hands around a bit before perching them on the desk's edge.
"It's all relative really. You train, you study, you cram all this information into your brain and muscle memory, hoping that you pass... But I have a paradox for you, Christian! Age does not dictate experience! Sure, you've been there, done that. We've danced enough to know each other's moves, know each other's weaknesses, strengths.. But does your son have what it takes to beat me? Did you impart all your knowledge to your son? You're probably sitting with him now, going over the best way to trounce me, figuring out that old elbow injury is still good strategy."
He smiles, turning his head slightly.
"Oh, wait.. You're not on the best of terms now, are you? So, perhaps this little rant should be directed at my opponent instead. Well, opponents - plural. There are three of you, after all."
James drops his smile and adopts a casual posture.
"I've got my hands full trying to figure out this guy Doe. I can't make any sense of him. The only thing that makes any sense is chaos. Now, I've tripped through the 'Chaos Theory' a thousand times, the butterfly's wings that cause a typhoon? Sure you've heard of it. Like I said before though, order in chaos. I'm going to prove that theory Friday. I'm going to eliminate any random elements.. If I am correct, he won't know what to do with his precious world shattered. All that chaos.. If only it were directed!"
He breaks off, appearing to be in thought. James snaps back, looking determined.
"Victor. Tommy Victor. The only real veteran who'll be in the ring. I've studied your matches, can't say I don't know the weak points in your game plan. Against you, the other two barely matter. Perhaps you should spend some time with Christian, except he'd bore you. Probably tell you he's cooler because he spent more time out of the ring than you. I know you're going to bring your best, Tommy. I'm counting on it."
James stands and walks over to the chair, puts a leg up and tightens his laces.
"Basically fellas," he chuckles, "You'll have to step it up. We all have something to prove here, each one of us. I won't let myself be made an example. I'm not going to just roll over and I don't expect any of you to do it either."
James puts his foot down and walks over to his towel.
"Friday is going to be a night of tests. Study hard."
James walks out of the office and the camera pans down to the television.
The scene is paused mid action, a ring and two people inside.
James is in the corner, punching an opponent and something is moving fast behind him.
Christian Payne swings a chair, aiming for Jame's back.
Fade to black.