Post by Justin Marsham on May 5, 2008 23:17:57 GMT -6
Black Jesus -- Reborn I
“Are you serious? I know he’s in there!” roars Sweet. “What’re you his bodyguard?”
An irate Sweet shouts at Chad Lights – raising all sorts of Hell in the hall. All he wants is an opportunity to speak with The Epitome of Technical Finesse, Justin Marsham. His demand seems so unreasonable. Or, at least, it seems unreasonable to Chad. He simply stands with arms folded across his chest, preventing Sweet’s entry into Marsham’s hotel room.
“I’m not, but I respect him enough to obey his wishes,” responds Chad, “and he doesn’t wish to speak with you.”
“He said that?”
“Damn straight he did.”
“He said, ‘I don’t want to talk to Sweet?’”
Chad shakes his head. “Not in so many words, but that’s the just of it.”
“Not in so many words? That’s eight!? What is he a caveman? No talk to Sweet?. You are out of your mind Chad. Just let me knock. If he doesn’t want to talk he can tell me himself.”
Once more, Chad shakes his head and stands his ground. “No.”
---
Over Chad’s left shoulder, Moses al-Ashrad’s eye peers. He presses close to the door and watches the argument between Chad and Sweet unfold, peeking through the peephole. He holds his head at an angle, so that his ear is close to the wooden frame and so that he can hear all the meaty details of their fiasco.
Moses’ voice is rich and deep – stained with an African accent – when he mutters, “It’s like two women out there arguing over a man. I’ve got my front row seat to Springer right here.”
When the camera pans out, the individual Moses speaks to is shown on the lower half of the screen devouring a bowl of Wheaties. The Sensational One, Steven Slade, shovels spoonful after spoonful into his maw. The crunch of cereal is loud, but nothing in comparison to Sweet’s voice even despite being muffled by the door. He must just expect Marsham to hear the commotion and poke his head out. That is when he would have the chance to speak with him. Little does he know, Marsham will not be that easy.
“He’s standin’ his ground, though. That’s all we could ask. Marsham’s got’em wrap’d ‘round his finger,” remarks Slade between mouthfuls of cereal. “That shows how devoted he is to his job. He wants to be the one with the mic for Marsham, ya know? Plus, shows what Chad’ll do for a lil poon.”
When the bowl of cereal is emptied, Slade pushes the bowl across the table. The wooden finish is unharmed by the movement of the bowl as it slides in one smooth, flowing motion. Moses, exhausted from the continuing dispute between Chad and Sweet, steps back from the door and heads off into the great room.
“Your turn, if you’d like,” Moses laughs.
“No thanks,” answers Slade whilst rising from the table and following Moses.
Meanwhile, this entire time, Justin Marsham had sat watching television. He leans comfortably backwards and into the couch. His bare feet are raised and propped up on a coffee table, crossed at the ankles. For the first time since his appearance on nCw television, Marsham is not draped in dress clothes or button-downs. Instead, he wears a black wife-beater and dark green camouflaged cargo shorts. He does not make mention of Chad nor Sweet. What occurs outside the room is of no certain to him – just as long as it does not spill into his view.
After removing a pair of lemon coolers from the portage refrigerator beside the couch, Moses tosses one to Slade before sinking into the couch beside Marsham. He enters into the same silence Marsham has – watching the random sports footage on television.
Cracking open his bottle, Slade fails to enter this silence. He takes a sip of his beverage, then inquires, “So wheels’re set into motion, then?”
Moses nods. “We’re on track.”
Luggage rests in a near corner, all piled up with a plethora of other items. Slade comes into complete view now, wearing no shirt to exhibit his various serpentine tattoos. Snake-skin pants are worn uncomfortably. Moses, however, has his do-rag and his baggy black pants. Like Slade, he is without a shirt. What is worn is a bandage over his left shoulder to conceal a new crucifix tattoo.
Although he had preserved his silence for so long, Marsham adds, “I just received the call this morning. I have a four-way-dance at Reborn and, no surprise, it’s against Ricky Johnson. On the other hand, they’ve replaced Reckoning with Jack Hammond and added Sexy Jason to the mix. That should be interesting enough.”
“Yeah, it should,” remarks Slade.
“Speaking of Reckoning, did you hear that rap?” asks Moses.
Marsham laughs. “I’d like to see an example of how someone’s mad rhymes have ever won a match. I’m actually embarrassed for the boy. He has so much potential, but absolutely no way to channel it. There’s more to life than this fantasy life of being a dealer or murderer. To be completely honest, if he wasn’t wrestling he’d be flippin’ burgers. That’s how thug he is!”
“Yo, McGriddle nigga,” Slade mocks.
Moses’ eyes narrow. “Watch your mouth. You don’t see me going around saying blah blah blah white-boy, now do you?”
Slade cringes. “Guess not.”
Changing the subject and refocusing on Marsham’s Pay-Per-View match this weekend, Moses asks, “So what’s the story on Ricky Johnson?”
“He’s lost his wife and child or something along those lines. Well, damn, I say good. He needed a little motivation. Of all the matches I’ve seen him in, he did piss poor. Did you see the match this last weekend? I was embarrassed to be in it! I had some rapper wanna-be acting a damn fool and getting his ass beat by Pathetic Ricky Johnson. I could only carry them for so long,” Marsham answers. “He knew the only way he could win that match was to knock me outside and capitalize on Reckoning’s incompetence.”
“I caught that,” Slade remarks.
“Those bad apples spoiled the night. I’m sure people turned the channel just to avoid seeing them and I had to be associated with it! I don’t need that stigma. You know what, though? That was a horrid performance on Johnson’s behalf, but he has improved. That was probably the most alive I’ve seen him in a match in a while which isn’t saying much. So that got me to thinking. He needs more motivation. Maybe he needs to knock up some other whore, so that she can quief out another kid. I’d be happy to stick that baby in a grinder if it meant that he would actually attempt to be entertaining.”
Moses smirks. “Remember, this is just like another triple threat. He could pull the same crap.”
“He could. He won’t. That would be smart,” retorts Marsham.
“What precedence does this—“ Slade begins, but finds himself interrupted.
Marsham interrupts and directs his two comrades to the television. His hand adjusts the volume so that the television is louder. The opposite hand lifts his ice water to his lips and he takes a quick sip. When the camera pans to the television, it appears Marsham has been watching the same program for hours.
What could be so important?
---
Wrestle-Center on ESPN-X is the program Marsham has been so intently viewing. So, after a brief commercial break, the two hosts – Alex Jordan and Paul York – greet the fans. These men sit upon stools behind a long, light blue counter. The ESPN-X logo is in the bottom left hand corner and MLB statistics and news scroll across the bottom of the screen.
“Welcome back folks,” greets Paul, “and as promised, we’re on our way to nCw Reborn! There are a lot of good wrestling organizations out there. CWA and NAW have a lot of great talent, but there is one organization that amazes me week in and week out and that’s nCw.”
Alex nods. “I’d have to agree. nCw has a lot of up-and-comers, but also a lot of veterans of the game. The stories are always intriguing and I have yet to see a bad show.”
“I have met quite a few of the wrestlers that perform there on a regular basis and these men know the ropes – literally.”
“Well, with Reborn just ahead, there are a lot of great matches scheduled. The question I have is – which match are you looking the most forward to and the same for wrestler? Which wrestler are you looking forward into seeing?” Alex inquires.
“Simple,” Paul begins. “Angel versus Xavier Williams is the match to watch. In terms of wrestler, I’d say Dark Prophet. Have you seen this man wrestle? It’s like he’s not even a man. He has a good mixed repertoire, so he never puts on a boring show. I’d expect him to keep that championship too. His battles against Jackhammer are going to be legendary.”
“I agree to some degree. I love to watch Dark Prophet, but Jackhammer has grown on me beyond my initial impression. It may be a toss up as to whether or not Dark Prophet retains. I think Jackhammer has a great shot at it and he may come off with the win,” explains Alex.
“What about you? What’re you looking forward to?”
Alex nods. “The Lance Ryan versus Reckless Jack match will be phenomenal. You’ve got some damn good talent there. I’m willing to put money down on that being the match of the night. Right now! Money down now.”
“I’ll take that bet!”
“In regards to what wrestler I’m looking forward to. I’d have to say Steve Awesome. He is a beast,” replies Alex. “I think it’s going to be a big night for Awesome. Well. Actually, I think it’s going to be an awesome night for him. You and I have had a lot of talk about Awesome. He’s made it real far in this profession and he’s making the most of it. Speaking of which, I don’t think we can finish without making at least some mention of Justin Marsham.”
“I’m glad you brought that up,” remarks Paul. “We’ve talked about Marsham’s extensive history in numerous organizations. He has excelled everywhere he has gone; and I love seeing him in this element. It’s when he signs on to another organization and he starts back down at the bottom of the food chain. I love that. I think he has more drive and desire to win, really.”
“I can see that. Take a look at his match this weekend. He has three opponents who have made a good name and reputation for themselves in nCw. A win for him would come off big.”
“It would be huge. I’m actually surprised he isn’t gunning for a champion. He has been known to very vocal about championship shots and number one contendership matches, but he has taken a new approach in nCw – it seems.”
Alex nods. “A new approach? He has a completely new demeanor. I’ve never seen Marsham operate in the fashion he is now. Take a look at his Entourage. Steven Slade and Moses al-Ashrad. Those two have lists of championships they’ve held and countless other awards. Who knows who else he could make friends with? He is more calculating, yes. But, he’s more of a puppet master. He’s befriending non-wrestler employees and using them to his advantage; and it’s not like he is exploiting them entirely. He offers them what they want. He’s kind of like—“
Paul interrupts, “—a Black Jesus.”
---
Marsham’s brow arches. “A Black Jesus?”
“You’re not black,” Slade remarks.
“You’re observant,” Marsham laughs. “I think it’s not meant as the skin-color. Black Jesus. I like it.”
“Look they’re going to have a special on Trent Helms later. We should watch that,” adds Moses.
Promptly, Marsham shuts off the television. “We’ve got a few days before Reborn, so we need to devise a game plan. I have three opponents and I don't have to be pinned to lose. This just complicates the situation to no end.”
Slade nods. “You said it. Listen, there ain’t much we can do. We ain’t under an nCw contract but we got front row seats. We’ll make do with’em. Will make it work for ya.”
“Actually, I had something else in mind,” Marsham proclaims. “Look at who I’m facing. Where’s the competition? Ricky Johnson? He could barely win that triple threat match this last week. He is vengeance! No. He’s a crock of crap. My wife hangs on for life. I’m going to make you pay. If he was that concerned, he’d be at his wife’s side and not competing. He probably shook the kid to death because he’s so paranoid.”
“Johnson’s easy game, but Jack Hammond may be a different story,” Moses points out.
Marsham shrugs. “I don’t know a whole lot about him. His matches are well orchestrated, but not at the caliber of others I’ve seen. Is he just another Jack?”
“No, he talks about cars,” Slade answers.
“Oh! That one! Damn. He was annoying,” Marsham reacts before adding, “and Sexy Jason is just—well—damn! He is just disgusting.”
“Not sexy enough for you?” Moses asks.
Marsham shakes his head. “Sexy Jason? Sexy isn’t a first name. It’s an adjective and it’s not accurate when it comes to him. It should be more like ‘Dumb Ass’ Jason. How about ‘Balding’ Jason? No. Definitely not clever enough. But, it does sound better than Sexy.”
“We may have The Empire to contend with,” Slade adds.
“No, we won’t. Sexy Jason’s failing them. It’s just a matter of time before they actually see that. Maybe they’ll realize this week. I don’t think we could be so lucky, though. I think he’s lonely, too. He’s beginning to realize. ‘Man, I’m not as sexy as I claim. I’m actually quite inept. Dark Prophet has a more chiseled body than mine and I have the mental equivalency of Davey Ortega’s encyclopedia.’ What’s even sadder is I saw his promo last week,” Marsham states. “I saw that promo and I was wondering who he was talking to. You know who it was?”
“Who?” both Slade and Moses ask.
Marsham slowly shakes his head. “No one. He was pretending. No one would listen to him. Think about that when you watch that promo again. It’s just sad. Bet us fans wondered who it was on the other end? No. Not really. He has to pretend in order to make himself feel more secure. You know that I try to remain politically correct, but he’s a frickin’ retard. You know though, even the mentally handicap can do some damage in the ring.”
“That was—“ begins Slade.
“—I don’t think Davey Ortega appreciates him enough. Jason may be a complete fool, but at least he tries. Imagine what Jason could do with your help, Justin,” suggests Marsham. “He needs some molding, but I think you could do it.”
“He needs a lot of work,” Marsham retorts. "My advice would be for him to get a last name."
“Not to burst your bubble, but you do understand you won’t have enough time to watch all these videos if we’re not out there doin’ it now,” Slade comments. “I think we all get the point though. Ricky Johnson is complex. Sexy Jason is dumb. Jack Hammond is...vehicular?”
The Epitome of Technical Finesse stands from his seat. “Then, let’s get to work. I’m not going to make the same mistake I did this last week. This’ll be my first nCw Pay-Per-View and I’m going to do whatever it takes to win it. The ends justify the means – and by any means necessary – this night will be mine.”
“So sayeth the Black Jesus,” adds Slade.
Marsham smirks as the final image.
The Epitome of Technical Finesse. The Black Jesus. Justin Marsham has been known by many names during his history as a professional wrestler; and he shall be known as one more thing. He will be known as a victor at nCw Reborn. Indeed, he has a grueling match ahead of him. He has fought off worse in the past.
He will win.
He must win.
“Are you serious? I know he’s in there!” roars Sweet. “What’re you his bodyguard?”
An irate Sweet shouts at Chad Lights – raising all sorts of Hell in the hall. All he wants is an opportunity to speak with The Epitome of Technical Finesse, Justin Marsham. His demand seems so unreasonable. Or, at least, it seems unreasonable to Chad. He simply stands with arms folded across his chest, preventing Sweet’s entry into Marsham’s hotel room.
“I’m not, but I respect him enough to obey his wishes,” responds Chad, “and he doesn’t wish to speak with you.”
“He said that?”
“Damn straight he did.”
“He said, ‘I don’t want to talk to Sweet?’”
Chad shakes his head. “Not in so many words, but that’s the just of it.”
“Not in so many words? That’s eight!? What is he a caveman? No talk to Sweet?. You are out of your mind Chad. Just let me knock. If he doesn’t want to talk he can tell me himself.”
Once more, Chad shakes his head and stands his ground. “No.”
---
Over Chad’s left shoulder, Moses al-Ashrad’s eye peers. He presses close to the door and watches the argument between Chad and Sweet unfold, peeking through the peephole. He holds his head at an angle, so that his ear is close to the wooden frame and so that he can hear all the meaty details of their fiasco.
Moses’ voice is rich and deep – stained with an African accent – when he mutters, “It’s like two women out there arguing over a man. I’ve got my front row seat to Springer right here.”
When the camera pans out, the individual Moses speaks to is shown on the lower half of the screen devouring a bowl of Wheaties. The Sensational One, Steven Slade, shovels spoonful after spoonful into his maw. The crunch of cereal is loud, but nothing in comparison to Sweet’s voice even despite being muffled by the door. He must just expect Marsham to hear the commotion and poke his head out. That is when he would have the chance to speak with him. Little does he know, Marsham will not be that easy.
“He’s standin’ his ground, though. That’s all we could ask. Marsham’s got’em wrap’d ‘round his finger,” remarks Slade between mouthfuls of cereal. “That shows how devoted he is to his job. He wants to be the one with the mic for Marsham, ya know? Plus, shows what Chad’ll do for a lil poon.”
When the bowl of cereal is emptied, Slade pushes the bowl across the table. The wooden finish is unharmed by the movement of the bowl as it slides in one smooth, flowing motion. Moses, exhausted from the continuing dispute between Chad and Sweet, steps back from the door and heads off into the great room.
“Your turn, if you’d like,” Moses laughs.
“No thanks,” answers Slade whilst rising from the table and following Moses.
Meanwhile, this entire time, Justin Marsham had sat watching television. He leans comfortably backwards and into the couch. His bare feet are raised and propped up on a coffee table, crossed at the ankles. For the first time since his appearance on nCw television, Marsham is not draped in dress clothes or button-downs. Instead, he wears a black wife-beater and dark green camouflaged cargo shorts. He does not make mention of Chad nor Sweet. What occurs outside the room is of no certain to him – just as long as it does not spill into his view.
After removing a pair of lemon coolers from the portage refrigerator beside the couch, Moses tosses one to Slade before sinking into the couch beside Marsham. He enters into the same silence Marsham has – watching the random sports footage on television.
Cracking open his bottle, Slade fails to enter this silence. He takes a sip of his beverage, then inquires, “So wheels’re set into motion, then?”
Moses nods. “We’re on track.”
Luggage rests in a near corner, all piled up with a plethora of other items. Slade comes into complete view now, wearing no shirt to exhibit his various serpentine tattoos. Snake-skin pants are worn uncomfortably. Moses, however, has his do-rag and his baggy black pants. Like Slade, he is without a shirt. What is worn is a bandage over his left shoulder to conceal a new crucifix tattoo.
Although he had preserved his silence for so long, Marsham adds, “I just received the call this morning. I have a four-way-dance at Reborn and, no surprise, it’s against Ricky Johnson. On the other hand, they’ve replaced Reckoning with Jack Hammond and added Sexy Jason to the mix. That should be interesting enough.”
“Yeah, it should,” remarks Slade.
“Speaking of Reckoning, did you hear that rap?” asks Moses.
Marsham laughs. “I’d like to see an example of how someone’s mad rhymes have ever won a match. I’m actually embarrassed for the boy. He has so much potential, but absolutely no way to channel it. There’s more to life than this fantasy life of being a dealer or murderer. To be completely honest, if he wasn’t wrestling he’d be flippin’ burgers. That’s how thug he is!”
“Yo, McGriddle nigga,” Slade mocks.
Moses’ eyes narrow. “Watch your mouth. You don’t see me going around saying blah blah blah white-boy, now do you?”
Slade cringes. “Guess not.”
Changing the subject and refocusing on Marsham’s Pay-Per-View match this weekend, Moses asks, “So what’s the story on Ricky Johnson?”
“He’s lost his wife and child or something along those lines. Well, damn, I say good. He needed a little motivation. Of all the matches I’ve seen him in, he did piss poor. Did you see the match this last weekend? I was embarrassed to be in it! I had some rapper wanna-be acting a damn fool and getting his ass beat by Pathetic Ricky Johnson. I could only carry them for so long,” Marsham answers. “He knew the only way he could win that match was to knock me outside and capitalize on Reckoning’s incompetence.”
“I caught that,” Slade remarks.
“Those bad apples spoiled the night. I’m sure people turned the channel just to avoid seeing them and I had to be associated with it! I don’t need that stigma. You know what, though? That was a horrid performance on Johnson’s behalf, but he has improved. That was probably the most alive I’ve seen him in a match in a while which isn’t saying much. So that got me to thinking. He needs more motivation. Maybe he needs to knock up some other whore, so that she can quief out another kid. I’d be happy to stick that baby in a grinder if it meant that he would actually attempt to be entertaining.”
Moses smirks. “Remember, this is just like another triple threat. He could pull the same crap.”
“He could. He won’t. That would be smart,” retorts Marsham.
“What precedence does this—“ Slade begins, but finds himself interrupted.
Marsham interrupts and directs his two comrades to the television. His hand adjusts the volume so that the television is louder. The opposite hand lifts his ice water to his lips and he takes a quick sip. When the camera pans to the television, it appears Marsham has been watching the same program for hours.
What could be so important?
---
Wrestle-Center on ESPN-X is the program Marsham has been so intently viewing. So, after a brief commercial break, the two hosts – Alex Jordan and Paul York – greet the fans. These men sit upon stools behind a long, light blue counter. The ESPN-X logo is in the bottom left hand corner and MLB statistics and news scroll across the bottom of the screen.
“Welcome back folks,” greets Paul, “and as promised, we’re on our way to nCw Reborn! There are a lot of good wrestling organizations out there. CWA and NAW have a lot of great talent, but there is one organization that amazes me week in and week out and that’s nCw.”
Alex nods. “I’d have to agree. nCw has a lot of up-and-comers, but also a lot of veterans of the game. The stories are always intriguing and I have yet to see a bad show.”
“I have met quite a few of the wrestlers that perform there on a regular basis and these men know the ropes – literally.”
“Well, with Reborn just ahead, there are a lot of great matches scheduled. The question I have is – which match are you looking the most forward to and the same for wrestler? Which wrestler are you looking forward into seeing?” Alex inquires.
“Simple,” Paul begins. “Angel versus Xavier Williams is the match to watch. In terms of wrestler, I’d say Dark Prophet. Have you seen this man wrestle? It’s like he’s not even a man. He has a good mixed repertoire, so he never puts on a boring show. I’d expect him to keep that championship too. His battles against Jackhammer are going to be legendary.”
“I agree to some degree. I love to watch Dark Prophet, but Jackhammer has grown on me beyond my initial impression. It may be a toss up as to whether or not Dark Prophet retains. I think Jackhammer has a great shot at it and he may come off with the win,” explains Alex.
“What about you? What’re you looking forward to?”
Alex nods. “The Lance Ryan versus Reckless Jack match will be phenomenal. You’ve got some damn good talent there. I’m willing to put money down on that being the match of the night. Right now! Money down now.”
“I’ll take that bet!”
“In regards to what wrestler I’m looking forward to. I’d have to say Steve Awesome. He is a beast,” replies Alex. “I think it’s going to be a big night for Awesome. Well. Actually, I think it’s going to be an awesome night for him. You and I have had a lot of talk about Awesome. He’s made it real far in this profession and he’s making the most of it. Speaking of which, I don’t think we can finish without making at least some mention of Justin Marsham.”
“I’m glad you brought that up,” remarks Paul. “We’ve talked about Marsham’s extensive history in numerous organizations. He has excelled everywhere he has gone; and I love seeing him in this element. It’s when he signs on to another organization and he starts back down at the bottom of the food chain. I love that. I think he has more drive and desire to win, really.”
“I can see that. Take a look at his match this weekend. He has three opponents who have made a good name and reputation for themselves in nCw. A win for him would come off big.”
“It would be huge. I’m actually surprised he isn’t gunning for a champion. He has been known to very vocal about championship shots and number one contendership matches, but he has taken a new approach in nCw – it seems.”
Alex nods. “A new approach? He has a completely new demeanor. I’ve never seen Marsham operate in the fashion he is now. Take a look at his Entourage. Steven Slade and Moses al-Ashrad. Those two have lists of championships they’ve held and countless other awards. Who knows who else he could make friends with? He is more calculating, yes. But, he’s more of a puppet master. He’s befriending non-wrestler employees and using them to his advantage; and it’s not like he is exploiting them entirely. He offers them what they want. He’s kind of like—“
Paul interrupts, “—a Black Jesus.”
---
Marsham’s brow arches. “A Black Jesus?”
“You’re not black,” Slade remarks.
“You’re observant,” Marsham laughs. “I think it’s not meant as the skin-color. Black Jesus. I like it.”
“Look they’re going to have a special on Trent Helms later. We should watch that,” adds Moses.
Promptly, Marsham shuts off the television. “We’ve got a few days before Reborn, so we need to devise a game plan. I have three opponents and I don't have to be pinned to lose. This just complicates the situation to no end.”
Slade nods. “You said it. Listen, there ain’t much we can do. We ain’t under an nCw contract but we got front row seats. We’ll make do with’em. Will make it work for ya.”
“Actually, I had something else in mind,” Marsham proclaims. “Look at who I’m facing. Where’s the competition? Ricky Johnson? He could barely win that triple threat match this last week. He is vengeance! No. He’s a crock of crap. My wife hangs on for life. I’m going to make you pay. If he was that concerned, he’d be at his wife’s side and not competing. He probably shook the kid to death because he’s so paranoid.”
“Johnson’s easy game, but Jack Hammond may be a different story,” Moses points out.
Marsham shrugs. “I don’t know a whole lot about him. His matches are well orchestrated, but not at the caliber of others I’ve seen. Is he just another Jack?”
“No, he talks about cars,” Slade answers.
“Oh! That one! Damn. He was annoying,” Marsham reacts before adding, “and Sexy Jason is just—well—damn! He is just disgusting.”
“Not sexy enough for you?” Moses asks.
Marsham shakes his head. “Sexy Jason? Sexy isn’t a first name. It’s an adjective and it’s not accurate when it comes to him. It should be more like ‘Dumb Ass’ Jason. How about ‘Balding’ Jason? No. Definitely not clever enough. But, it does sound better than Sexy.”
“We may have The Empire to contend with,” Slade adds.
“No, we won’t. Sexy Jason’s failing them. It’s just a matter of time before they actually see that. Maybe they’ll realize this week. I don’t think we could be so lucky, though. I think he’s lonely, too. He’s beginning to realize. ‘Man, I’m not as sexy as I claim. I’m actually quite inept. Dark Prophet has a more chiseled body than mine and I have the mental equivalency of Davey Ortega’s encyclopedia.’ What’s even sadder is I saw his promo last week,” Marsham states. “I saw that promo and I was wondering who he was talking to. You know who it was?”
“Who?” both Slade and Moses ask.
Marsham slowly shakes his head. “No one. He was pretending. No one would listen to him. Think about that when you watch that promo again. It’s just sad. Bet us fans wondered who it was on the other end? No. Not really. He has to pretend in order to make himself feel more secure. You know that I try to remain politically correct, but he’s a frickin’ retard. You know though, even the mentally handicap can do some damage in the ring.”
“That was—“ begins Slade.
“—I don’t think Davey Ortega appreciates him enough. Jason may be a complete fool, but at least he tries. Imagine what Jason could do with your help, Justin,” suggests Marsham. “He needs some molding, but I think you could do it.”
“He needs a lot of work,” Marsham retorts. "My advice would be for him to get a last name."
“Not to burst your bubble, but you do understand you won’t have enough time to watch all these videos if we’re not out there doin’ it now,” Slade comments. “I think we all get the point though. Ricky Johnson is complex. Sexy Jason is dumb. Jack Hammond is...vehicular?”
The Epitome of Technical Finesse stands from his seat. “Then, let’s get to work. I’m not going to make the same mistake I did this last week. This’ll be my first nCw Pay-Per-View and I’m going to do whatever it takes to win it. The ends justify the means – and by any means necessary – this night will be mine.”
“So sayeth the Black Jesus,” adds Slade.
Marsham smirks as the final image.
The Epitome of Technical Finesse. The Black Jesus. Justin Marsham has been known by many names during his history as a professional wrestler; and he shall be known as one more thing. He will be known as a victor at nCw Reborn. Indeed, he has a grueling match ahead of him. He has fought off worse in the past.
He will win.
He must win.