Post by James Edwards on May 14, 2017 2:22:10 GMT
James' steps thunder and echo as he strides down the hall, ignoring the gorgeous wood floors and cream, paper thin walls. It's an odd sight to see a man dressed in a robe with ankle high work boots, particularly in a hot spring. Nor does agitation in an environment famed for tranquility and relaxation.
"I offer people respect; I offer my opponents respect. I don't do it to play hero. I do it because it is the right thing to do."
He steps off camera for a moment, and his off-screen narration of a scene featuring of an empty hall gives the broadcast an eccentric tone.
"I try to show mercy in the ring. Hurtin' people is a given. There ain't a need to be savage."
The microphone picks up on him muttering something about the son of a bitch pants and how he is going to trip.
"I try to live a peaceful existence out of the ring. I wanna be able to separate hostility in the heat of the moment versus genuine rage."
He emerges back into the picture, fully clothed in jeans and a plain royal blue t-shirt.
"I tried to offer you some of these things, Bryan. I lauded your accomplishments. I gave credit to the caliber of competition you face in your home promotion, and what did I get for it? A god damn slap in the face!"
His face, stoic as always, doesn't tell the tale of his anger. However, the chill of his steel blue eyes hints he doesn't care for virtues at this time.
"I hear it all the time no matter where I go, that I'm not ready for what is in front of me. Most of the time I pass it off as absolute bull shit from someone not familiar with the fire I fight with. You don't get that pass, Bryan. You know damn well who I am. You know what I can do. So why treat me like an afterthought and yourself as some icon, especially when we both know those are lies.
I can't offer civility or the hint of a real fight to a man better suited to be a storyteller than my opponent."
He tries to flash an arrogant smirk; it does not fit him, just the situation.
"Let's look at the one thing you are so fuckin' keen on reminding us all, Bryan: the fact that you are the 4CW Pride Champion. From what I can tell, no one else in the tournament has felt the need to carry around a belt like a piece of masturbatory jewelry. Why is that? Why are you the only one?
The answer is simple, that's the only accomplishment you've ever been able to earn on your own.
A winner of Boardwalk's Joker's Wild and long reigns with the BW and 4CW tag titles. All those things have a common denominator, other people. You seem to be a helluva of a teammate who wilts under the sun when he has to go at it alone.
Me, on the other hand, I've never had an Aidan Carlisle to drag my ass across the finish line when I couldn't hold up my end of the bargain. Everything in my trophy case is singular, not plural. Sure I've whiffed on the big stage a few times, but I've won too. Two world titles, in fact, something you haven't touched in over a decade if ever.
I'm not afraid to walk into a country and promotion where I'm a complete unknown. Everywhere I've gone, more companies than on the list you name and scoffed at, I've been successful, and I've done it alone.
There is a strength in that, knowing that when the enemy knocks at the gate, you can handle things on your own. It sustains me when I'm down on the mat; it gives me clarity after someone knocks the shit out of me and I can't make sense of anything; it lights my darkest hours when I've lost all hope.
It gives me a certainty that even when you disrespect me, Bryan, when you sneer at the places I work, and even when you may get a lucky shot and have the better of me for a moment, that I'll be able to do what I always do: knock or choke a prick like you out."
The Burning Heart stands resolute and alone. This is the defining image of him. It always will be despite the picture the naysayers will try and frame.
"I offer people respect; I offer my opponents respect. I don't do it to play hero. I do it because it is the right thing to do."
He steps off camera for a moment, and his off-screen narration of a scene featuring of an empty hall gives the broadcast an eccentric tone.
"I try to show mercy in the ring. Hurtin' people is a given. There ain't a need to be savage."
The microphone picks up on him muttering something about the son of a bitch pants and how he is going to trip.
"I try to live a peaceful existence out of the ring. I wanna be able to separate hostility in the heat of the moment versus genuine rage."
He emerges back into the picture, fully clothed in jeans and a plain royal blue t-shirt.
"I tried to offer you some of these things, Bryan. I lauded your accomplishments. I gave credit to the caliber of competition you face in your home promotion, and what did I get for it? A god damn slap in the face!"
His face, stoic as always, doesn't tell the tale of his anger. However, the chill of his steel blue eyes hints he doesn't care for virtues at this time.
"I hear it all the time no matter where I go, that I'm not ready for what is in front of me. Most of the time I pass it off as absolute bull shit from someone not familiar with the fire I fight with. You don't get that pass, Bryan. You know damn well who I am. You know what I can do. So why treat me like an afterthought and yourself as some icon, especially when we both know those are lies.
I can't offer civility or the hint of a real fight to a man better suited to be a storyteller than my opponent."
He tries to flash an arrogant smirk; it does not fit him, just the situation.
"Let's look at the one thing you are so fuckin' keen on reminding us all, Bryan: the fact that you are the 4CW Pride Champion. From what I can tell, no one else in the tournament has felt the need to carry around a belt like a piece of masturbatory jewelry. Why is that? Why are you the only one?
The answer is simple, that's the only accomplishment you've ever been able to earn on your own.
A winner of Boardwalk's Joker's Wild and long reigns with the BW and 4CW tag titles. All those things have a common denominator, other people. You seem to be a helluva of a teammate who wilts under the sun when he has to go at it alone.
Me, on the other hand, I've never had an Aidan Carlisle to drag my ass across the finish line when I couldn't hold up my end of the bargain. Everything in my trophy case is singular, not plural. Sure I've whiffed on the big stage a few times, but I've won too. Two world titles, in fact, something you haven't touched in over a decade if ever.
I'm not afraid to walk into a country and promotion where I'm a complete unknown. Everywhere I've gone, more companies than on the list you name and scoffed at, I've been successful, and I've done it alone.
There is a strength in that, knowing that when the enemy knocks at the gate, you can handle things on your own. It sustains me when I'm down on the mat; it gives me clarity after someone knocks the shit out of me and I can't make sense of anything; it lights my darkest hours when I've lost all hope.
It gives me a certainty that even when you disrespect me, Bryan, when you sneer at the places I work, and even when you may get a lucky shot and have the better of me for a moment, that I'll be able to do what I always do: knock or choke a prick like you out."
The Burning Heart stands resolute and alone. This is the defining image of him. It always will be despite the picture the naysayers will try and frame.
