War: An Xtreme Affair Sept 30, 2016 20:38:36 GMT -5 via mobile
Post by Xtreme on Sept 30, 2016 20:38:36 GMT -5
War. An epic confrontation that ends lives and changes anyone who survives. An event that seperates the men from the boys, the soldiers from common cannon fodder. This is the defining moment of many men and women who are looking to prove themselves.
The scene opens on what appears to be a desolate field, bits of scrap and trash litter the area. A slight fog hangs over the view, an ominous aura. The camera pans the area as Jaice continues, purposefully.
A battle of these proportions takes its toll on everyone involved. Nevermind the brass ring at the end; in this cataclysmic injunction, it becomes a matter of pride. It's one person against the world, and that one has to determine what he or she is willing to sacrifice to claim their status as the best of the best. The epitome of our business. The proverbial measuring stick.
So many will come into the fold, looking for glory. They will throw down to gain their fifteen seconds of greatness... only to forget what this is REALLY about and become another notch in someone else's belt. Oh, the few moments of fame and television time will forever be with them. But they'll be forgotten, lost in the annals of history.
The camera falls on the figure of Jaice Wilds, the Xtremeist sitting atop a rusty cannon. He looks out on the scene, taking in a deep breath as the gravity weighs on his mind. Another moment, he continues.
Some will come into this contest looking for the prize at the end. The World Championship opportunity that comes with winning War. I won't be so naïve as to completely put this idea off; it IS, after all, the biggest reason TO enter this match. The issue, however, is that putting the title shot at the forefront tends to take away from the task at hand.
Yes, the big picture is that the winner will face the World Champion. But too often, looking at the big picture places blinders on the task at hand. To become so blinded by the promise of future glory, one forgets to complete the objective leading to it. And when this happens, your dreams are dashed and you end up at the bottom of the barrel with nothing to show for it.
Wilds takes a moment, standing. He walks about the scene, his hands in his pockets as he ponders. After a few moments, he turns his attention back to the camera.
There will be blood. There will be bodies. There will be broken bones, torn muscles, scars. Dozens of men- and women- will enter that ring, looking for their moment of greatness. Looking for their opportunity to set themselves higher on the proverbial food chain. Fighting for what could be their one shot at the top prize in our industry.
Me? I'll be fighting for glory. I'm entering that ring, looking only to cement my place on the roster. I need not prove myself a World Champion now; my goal is to make the locker room start paying attention to the unpredictable force that is the Xtreme Aerialist. No offense to whomever holds the title at One. But I could care less about the title opportunity with you.
I'm fighting at War so I can put people on notice. I don't care how many people I have to go through, how often I have to go through them. All I care about is gaining the respect of the boys in the back. This won't be my last shot at the World Title; once I've proven myself, I'll get plenty of shots. And when that time comes, I'll make the most of it.
Wilds pauses, inhaling. He exhales, looking about the scene. He turns back to the camera, a slight grin.
Anyone and everyone involved in War is going to be my stepping stone into the main event. This is going to be the moment in WCF where everyone looks back and remembers Jaice Wilds' dominating performance. It won't matter if I win at War or not; the carnage that I wreak on the roster is going to overshadow anyone else's achievements that night. And when I solidify myself as a main event contender...
Well, I'm just going to let you do the math.
Sure, I'm a small guy. And I have made a career out of being on the mid card. But this... this is my moment. This is my chance. Now is MY time to jump over that wall and take my career to the next level. It doesn't matter who it is I must go through- Oblivion, Joey Flash, Zombie McMorris, Dustin Beaver, Sarah Twilight, Corey Black, Captain WCF, Cliff Of Doom-
I WILL make an impact.
I WILL leave my mark.
And I will leave War with some form of victory under my belt.
Jaice grabs up a rusted piece of metal- a bayonet left from some old battle. He examines it for a moment, nodding as he takes a few more steps. He sits on a rock, focusing back on the camera.
War is upon us, ladies and gentlemen.
Who will emerge victorious? With the level of competition, no one can say for certain.
But what can be known is who will leave their mark on our business. Hopes and dreams will be on the line. Blood, sweat and tears will be left in the squared circle. And at the end of the night, a select few will have their names etched in the history books.
And on this night will be written: Jaice Wilds. The man who broke the most bones. The man who let fly the blood of his foes. The man who made his career by shortening or ending those of his enemies.
Jaice takes a breath, he stands. A sly grin as he turns away, pacing away from the lens.
The world stands against me.
None will be left standing.
See you all soon.
Jaice walks out of view, the camera panning the area. We catch the glimpse of an old memorial, barely legible names carved into the sides. The fog takes hold, shrouding the area in a sea of grey as we fade to black...