Post by raze on Feb 27, 2024 17:36:32 GMT -8
Sitting on a bench in his home gym, surrounded by his weights, treadmill, dummy, and mats, Raze- wearing simple track pants and a plain, dark blue t-shirt- looks down at the floor, powerful forearms resting on his knees as his hair hangs down.
"So, once Legendary is done and dusted, I have a new task ahead of me."
Lifting his head to look at the camera, he sweeps his hair back, out of his face, with a hand. He looks focused, but calm.
"Rowena..."
He trails off, slight changes on his face, such as slight tension around his mouth and eyebrows hint at the ambivalence inside.
"Fuck it. Look, I'm going to level with you. The more I look at you, the more I see myself reflected back at me. A younger me would've loved what you're about. Hell, a younger me would've approached you with an idea of standing side by side, to see how much carnage we could cause between us. Even now, I'd probably applaud you, circumstances permitting."
He gives a sideways just of the head as he shrugs his broad shoulders.
"I can respect your brawling ability. You're quick. You can take a beating, and your finishing move?"
He gives a nod of the head, a look of mild approval accompanying it.
"But there's something in the way of respecting you more fully. See, I could forgive a slap across my cheek, but drawing my blood? Now, it could be argued that I evened it up that same night, but if I let that go, that sends a message. That tells people they can attack me any time, any way, and I'll let it happen."
His expression becomes more serious, retaining his focus from earlier, but his brow and eyes set into a hard stare.
"Even you know no one can allow that. You have to come back at the attacker, no matter what. I know there's no way you'd ever tell me you'd do anything but retaliate in my position. You love to bring the violence, you said it yourself. Tell me I'm wrong, tell me you'd let it slide.
So, now, we get to the other issues. You say your dad never promoted titles and people came to see him. Ok, fine. I see the reasoning there. But even if you want to be like him, shouldn't you want to be like him, but better?"
He gets to his feet and steps away from the seat, coming closer to the camera, so that he can only be seen from around the waist up.
"You're part of the current generation of wrestling talent, and second generation at that. You could be an attraction at shows, aye. Or you could strive to be the attraction. The one who sells out arenas, gives One Wrestle million dollar houses, just from the fact your name is there. Main event every show. So why don't you?"
He holds out his arms in a shrug as he lets out a sigh.
"You can't even make your title mean something. Don't you want to elevate it? Don't you want your status as a champion to rival that of another champions in this company? Is your ambition really so lacking? You like to bring the violence, I can relate, but you can do more than one thing in one stroke. This whole roster stopped Stanton running from you. You're a champion because of us, but you're still a champion. Just one time, act like it. Because if that's asking too much from you..."
He steps closer, now only seen from the chest up, his face showing incredulity.
"Then what the fuck are you keeping it for?
He looks off to his right for a second, letting out a breath through the nose, and clearing his throat. Initially, one might mistake his passion for hate or anger.
"A vestigial title shows a lack of passion for the craft! Titles aren't everything, but they exist for a reason. You have the gall to be pissed off about defending your title against me, but it's crystal fucking clear that I care more about it than you do, and I don't even want the fucking thing! I'd have been perfectly satisfied just getting you one on one, to settle up, but I'll tell you this"
He pauses for a moment, just long enough to stay on top of his frustration.
"Since it's on the line and you don't care enough to even acknowledge you have it, I might as well shoot for it. And should I win, I'll show you what happens when a champion actually does the other half of the job that comes with it! It could've taken you to new heights, given you more opportunities to unleash the mayhem. Shit like that opens doors."
He looks down for a moment, a typical way to collect one's thoughts and cool off, but the camera does catch a flash of a smirk.
"You know the funny thing? I mean other than the fact this happens on a show run by a guy who took some professional interest in you. Besides that. Besides the fact that I don't actually hate you. It's the fact I want to see the younger talent get there, to hit the heights they can get to. See, some of us older guys, like Cory or me, we don't care a huge deal about titles because we've been to the top. We don't need the elevation quite as much as the new breed. That's just how it works and while there are some exceptions, you're not one of them. You're young. You're good at brawling. But the hunger isn't nearly what it should be."
He tilts his head side to side, a crick crack coming from his neck as he loosens it up.
"Maybe I can help light that fire in you. Maybe you just want to coast off your last name. We'll see. But come Glory, I'm coming for your title, so act like a real champion and fucking defend it! Light up that fire, or it's lights out. Make your choice."
His eyes narrow, jaw set as the challenge is set forth, while the camera fades to black.
"So, once Legendary is done and dusted, I have a new task ahead of me."
Lifting his head to look at the camera, he sweeps his hair back, out of his face, with a hand. He looks focused, but calm.
"Rowena..."
He trails off, slight changes on his face, such as slight tension around his mouth and eyebrows hint at the ambivalence inside.
"Fuck it. Look, I'm going to level with you. The more I look at you, the more I see myself reflected back at me. A younger me would've loved what you're about. Hell, a younger me would've approached you with an idea of standing side by side, to see how much carnage we could cause between us. Even now, I'd probably applaud you, circumstances permitting."
He gives a sideways just of the head as he shrugs his broad shoulders.
"I can respect your brawling ability. You're quick. You can take a beating, and your finishing move?"
He gives a nod of the head, a look of mild approval accompanying it.
"But there's something in the way of respecting you more fully. See, I could forgive a slap across my cheek, but drawing my blood? Now, it could be argued that I evened it up that same night, but if I let that go, that sends a message. That tells people they can attack me any time, any way, and I'll let it happen."
His expression becomes more serious, retaining his focus from earlier, but his brow and eyes set into a hard stare.
"Even you know no one can allow that. You have to come back at the attacker, no matter what. I know there's no way you'd ever tell me you'd do anything but retaliate in my position. You love to bring the violence, you said it yourself. Tell me I'm wrong, tell me you'd let it slide.
So, now, we get to the other issues. You say your dad never promoted titles and people came to see him. Ok, fine. I see the reasoning there. But even if you want to be like him, shouldn't you want to be like him, but better?"
He gets to his feet and steps away from the seat, coming closer to the camera, so that he can only be seen from around the waist up.
"You're part of the current generation of wrestling talent, and second generation at that. You could be an attraction at shows, aye. Or you could strive to be the attraction. The one who sells out arenas, gives One Wrestle million dollar houses, just from the fact your name is there. Main event every show. So why don't you?"
He holds out his arms in a shrug as he lets out a sigh.
"You can't even make your title mean something. Don't you want to elevate it? Don't you want your status as a champion to rival that of another champions in this company? Is your ambition really so lacking? You like to bring the violence, I can relate, but you can do more than one thing in one stroke. This whole roster stopped Stanton running from you. You're a champion because of us, but you're still a champion. Just one time, act like it. Because if that's asking too much from you..."
He steps closer, now only seen from the chest up, his face showing incredulity.
"Then what the fuck are you keeping it for?
He looks off to his right for a second, letting out a breath through the nose, and clearing his throat. Initially, one might mistake his passion for hate or anger.
"A vestigial title shows a lack of passion for the craft! Titles aren't everything, but they exist for a reason. You have the gall to be pissed off about defending your title against me, but it's crystal fucking clear that I care more about it than you do, and I don't even want the fucking thing! I'd have been perfectly satisfied just getting you one on one, to settle up, but I'll tell you this"
He pauses for a moment, just long enough to stay on top of his frustration.
"Since it's on the line and you don't care enough to even acknowledge you have it, I might as well shoot for it. And should I win, I'll show you what happens when a champion actually does the other half of the job that comes with it! It could've taken you to new heights, given you more opportunities to unleash the mayhem. Shit like that opens doors."
He looks down for a moment, a typical way to collect one's thoughts and cool off, but the camera does catch a flash of a smirk.
"You know the funny thing? I mean other than the fact this happens on a show run by a guy who took some professional interest in you. Besides that. Besides the fact that I don't actually hate you. It's the fact I want to see the younger talent get there, to hit the heights they can get to. See, some of us older guys, like Cory or me, we don't care a huge deal about titles because we've been to the top. We don't need the elevation quite as much as the new breed. That's just how it works and while there are some exceptions, you're not one of them. You're young. You're good at brawling. But the hunger isn't nearly what it should be."
He tilts his head side to side, a crick crack coming from his neck as he loosens it up.
"Maybe I can help light that fire in you. Maybe you just want to coast off your last name. We'll see. But come Glory, I'm coming for your title, so act like a real champion and fucking defend it! Light up that fire, or it's lights out. Make your choice."
His eyes narrow, jaw set as the challenge is set forth, while the camera fades to black.