Post by Xtreme on Jan 15, 2017 11:14:14 GMT -5
Then
A young Jaice starts across the tight rope. He gets about half way across before he falters, barely catching his footing. Another step before a beautifully executed backflip, but a slight miscalculation causes him to fall to the netting below. He angrily writhes in the ropes, an angered moan.
Can't stop now, kiddo. Gotta keep pushing.
I can't. I can't, Reg. I just don't have it in me.
Reggie grabs his little brother up, pulling him from the safety nets. He gets right in Wilds' face, stern.
Can't? Don't have it? Jaicey boy, we ain't but JUST started. Now let's go.
Why, Reggie? Why do I have to do this? I wasn't made for walking some stupid rope, I'm a hunter.
Yeah. And a damn fine acrobat. Look, I know that you learned some things where you came from. Shit that the rest of us have never seen before- and we've gone through 6 tightrope walkers in the last 13 years. You have a gift, bro. But you gotta stop limiting yourself. You're not a hunter anymore, you're an innovator. A marvel. A flying acrobat.
Jaice looks to all the parts of his act hanging from the ceiling. He shakes his head, breathing heavily.
What if I can't do it, Reg? What if this is just too much for me? What if I...
What if you stopped. Took a breath. Remembered what it is that made you able to soar in the jungle. And used that here, with these rings and swings and ropes.
What if you took two seconds to realize that you have the potential to do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING you set your mind to??
Reggie drops to a knee, looking Wilds in the eye. Jaice breathes in deeply, starting to shake his head. The teen places his hand on Wilds' chest, continuing.
It's all in here. You gotta believe in yourself. Let your heart guide you, your instinct move you and your will push you when you don't have anymore. Never. EVER. Stop.
Now. Get back up there and show me why we brought you into the fold.
Wilds nods, reluctant. He ascends a ladder on the nearby beam up to a platform, looking out at his setup. He starts out onto the tightrope, pushing forward into a handstand before flipping back to his feet...
Now
The scene opens on Jaice Wilds, standing one-legged on the edge of some building. By the looks of the skyline, the tower is quite tall; twenty-plus stories at the least. A slight breeze comes in, Wilds almost unaffected. His eyes remain closed as he keeps focused, addressing the camera.
Balance. Life is about balance. Physical, mental, karmic... in the end, life's ups must equal its downs for things to make any lick of sense.
Twenty sixteen was rather... rough. I broke into the ranks of WCF with a series of losses that left a rather bad taste in my mouth. I couldn't get my footing right and ended up falling more than I care to relive. I began my WCF career in a slump...
Jaice produces a bread crumb from his sleeve, dropping it off the side of the building. A slight grin, he continues.
And yet, just when things were looking their bleakest, that's when I regained my footing... and soared.
As if on cue, a robin flies up past the Xtremeist, circling the wrestler. It flies out over the skyline, Wilds chuckling. He opens his eyes, turning back to the camera.
I got a victory at WCF's grandest stage, One. I got thrown into a battle royal against the Internet Champion at Slam and toppled him as well as my other opponents. I went into a World Title contendership match against some of the best talents of our time, and lasted literally seconds shy of ten minutes before being eliminated by the eventual winner.
This week, one more chance to prove myself. One more opportunity to ascend the ladder. Rather than giving me my shot at Joey Flash, Seth has seen fit to put me in an Alpha Championship contender's match against three other competitors. While the match isn't another Battle Royal, it is certainly still a match set in my favor. One might ask why I believe this. Well, it's simple science, really.
First, there's Jay West. The man I've defeated not once, but twice now. I believe that means defeating him this week makes him my "bitch"... but I'm not that petty. Just because you're not at my level doesn't make you inferior; it simply means you have room to improve. And you have the perfect opportunity this week. You have at least two weeks worth of match tapes to see where you dropped the ball against me. Another few weeks of tape to *try* and figure out how I tick. And a few days to work on fine-tuning your style. Who knows; you just MIGHT be able to put up a decent fight this week before I beat you AGAIN.
Might.
Wilds shrugs, dropping from the ledge onto solid roof. He grins, tilting his head a bit as he chuckles. A moment passes as he contemplates his next foe, choosing his words carefully.
Fuego Del Eterno Infierno Silencioso. You, sir, are almost as difficult to lock down as I am. One week, we're across the ring and put each other to the test. The next, I misstep a bit and you expertly take advantage. Admittedly, I'm a little stunted by your win over me. It irks me that I didn't prepare myself as well as I probably should have.
But this week, I get the chance to even the score. To put that particular column in balance. A win over you at Slam not only vindicates my loss, but throws me one step higher up the proverbial ladder. This week, it's about walking through the fire one more time- but with much higher stakes. You gained bragging rights in our last encounter. This time? I get a title match. So bring the fury and passion that you had in our last encounter, Fuego. Make sure I'm properly earning my place against O'Neal.
Wilds takes a seat on the ledge, removing a granola bar from his pocket. He bites into the healthy snack, swallowing it down as he contemplates. A breath, he focuses back on the camera.
Then, there's the wild card in the lineup. The only one I haven't faced, but a pretty viable threat nonetheless. Well, IF you count that whole Brotherhood backing. I mean, the guy doesn't have a solid win under his belt in recent history that doesn't involve someone else.
So... what's the plan, Pomp? Get some Brotherhood members to make a few strategic moves during the match? Systematically take everyone out one by one with some interference while never being capable of claiming a decent victory of your own skill? Because, if I'm being honest here, you look to be lacking in the balls department.
Seriously. Look, I'm going to lay down the gauntlet here and now. Fight on your own. Leave the Brotherhood in the back and learn how to fight for yourself. Make a fucking impact. Or... bring your boys with you, and I'll make it my personal mission to single-handedly dismantle the Brotherhood in one fell swoop.
Jaice shakes his head, irritated. He takes a moment to survey the scene, continuing.
Look, don't get me wrong. Having been there before, I have nothing but respect for tag team specialists. But if you straight up cheat to win using outside interference, you lose any right to call yourself a man. This is a fatal four way- every man for himself. So fight for yourself or get the hell out. This is a title qualifying match; I don't have time for half-assed punks who rely on outside help to get ahead. If your A game isn't enough for you to rely on, stay the hell out of my way and get back on the tag team circuit.
Bottom line here, fellas. Jaice Wilds' star has been rising as of late. People are beginning to chant my name and cheer at my presence. The locker room is being put on notice the I am a man to be taken seriously. Even in the cases of David Sanchez and Steven Singh, who would rather pretend I was still nothing to them. They'll learn soon enough, as will you, that Jaice Wilds is NEVER a man to take lightly.
I issued a challenge. Joey Flash answered. The World Champion recognizes my potential and is ready to put my abilities to the test. The highest seat in the company is ready to test me and to test himself against me.
I know Jay isn't ready for me; it's round 3 and I'm already leading by two.
Infernio isn't ready. He got lucky that I misstepped last time, and hasn't made anything for an impact since.
Psychopomp isn't ready. The man can hardly lift his own tiny nutsack on his own, let alone win a match against an unpredictable wildcard such as myself.
Wilds stands, jumping up to the ledge. He turns one last time to the camera, grinning.
At Slam, I take one step closer to destiny. Jason O'Neal, I will be seeing you soon. Until then, I will see you all soon when I... drop in... to Slam.
Jaice falls backwards off the ledge, the camera racing forward. It perches over the ledge, where we see Jaice landing on a balcony perhaps a single story below. He opens the glass door and enters the building, the camera fades to black.