Post by Jordan Moss on Oct 28, 2011 0:03:13 GMT -3
[RP vs. Mysery]Chapter 2: Seeing The Sun Again
8:15 PM
Baltimore, MD – Baltimore City Correctional Facility[/b]
LEGEND:
- dark green for internal thoughts and actions
- lime green for spoken words
A screen flickers to life. A familiar figure with short black hair and a full black beard to match. He is Jordan Moss. With hands in his pockets and fire in his eyes, he addresses the public.
”So let’s get down to brass tax. Jordan Moss came into the ICW with a helluva lot of fanfare. I had the entire world at my fingertips, and my limits were beyond the stars. This isn’t spoken out of arrogance, this is merely fact. Suddenly, I stopped showing up, I went .500 in my first two matches and then you never heard from me again. I bet all of you want to know why.”
:: Heh, if the fans don’t turn on me for this one, it’ll be a miracle, here goes nothing. ::
”I was in prison. As a matter of fact, I just got out.”
The camera pans over to the Correctional Facility, and then back to Jordan.
”See? Now its time I deserved, but I can tell you, a guy like me gets left alone in prison. I proved that my first night here. Now I’ve had a lot of time to think, I’ve had a lot of time to do pushups, I’ve had a lot of time to do situps, I’ve had a lot of time to sharpen my mind. As a matter of fact, all I’ve had is time. Two guards in here knew who I was, watched my back, let me watch tapes. I didn’t get any episodes of Showdown, but I did get a lot of what inspired me to get into this business in the first place. It kept me just as hungry as I’ve ever been.”
:: I take this time to light up a cigarette. Still haven’t kicked the habit, some things never change. It still doesn’t hinder my cardio in any way, my statistics have only grown stronger. I take out a letter from my sweatshirt pocket, and brandish it to the camera. ::
"I get a letter the other day. It wasn’t postmarked, it wasn’t dated, but it was given to me by one of the friendly guards instead of the usual mail delivery guard, so I trusted it. Came from a guy named Logan. No first name, no title, just, Logan. Tells me ICW has seen a regime change since the age of Kane Harlow. Tells me I’m a guy who’s still on his list. Tells me that if I’m as sharp as I’ve ever been, I’ve got a spot when I get out of the clink. Imagine my surprise."
:: I launch the cancerous smoke into the brisk Baltimore sky and lean against the building, very little traffic tonight, it’s a good night to be reintroduced to the outside world. I have plenty of time for that, but however, I must focus, for my reintroduction to the ICW world draws ever closer. I need them now more than ever to back on my feet financially. I need them more than ever because that’s my only physical outlet right now. Everything else, the MMA gyms, the old wrestling school, I left all that behind for this opportunity. This shot at Mysery is my shot back into relevance. ::
”And just imagine what I think of when I’m told days later that my first match will be against a guy named Mysery. Guys a national talent, been around the block a few times. Joey told me about him. We’ll talk more about Joey later, he’ll be around later, he’s my mentor. Now I know Mysery is watching this. It’s logical, I’m his opponent, he looks up my name on the internet, he sees this video, he checks it out, anyways. Mysery is just waiting to see what I’m going to say about him. What sort of witty catchphrases do I have up my sleeve in an attempt to emasculate him and cause him to second-guess his talents?”
:: I can’t help but chuckle after this one. I hate being all fourth wall, but let’s face it, that’s the approach of most independent wrestlers around the game these days. Let’s just tear down our opponents so the audience thinks they are nothing. NO! That is not what this is about. Professional wrestling is a game about perception. No matter the flaws you may think yourself to have, you shield all of them from prying eyes, and you build your opponent up. Every encounter is an epic encounter. Train for every fight like it is for the World Title. In the case of this one, it actually has some semblance of meaning in the greater scheme of the World Title picture. ::
”I’ve never liked that approach. I’m not an entertainer. That just isn’t what I do. I’ve been a warrior from the very beginning. State Champion amateur wrestler, jiu-jitsu practitioner, Muay Thai enthusiast, I’ve been running since my legs were fully formed. Like I said Mysery, you’re looking at my Obsessed With Wrestling profile right now,you already know all this, but this means you know what comes next.”
:: All business now. This is my M.O. right here, straight and to the point. All I can do is flash a signal in the sky, to do anymore would be a disservice to the competition. I launch another burst of smoke into the sky, it rushes over me, it brings me to zen. Interesting that the one thing that calms my manic mind before physical competition is smoking, which is rumored to be hazardous. I wouldn’t know. My father smoked for as long as I can remember, as did my mother. Its how I was raised. To work hard, fight harder, and smoke em if you got em. Some upbringing some would say, but I’m grateful for how far I’ve gotten. With all of this reflection, it centers me, it brings me to the place I need to be at to deliver such a damning sermon like the one I’m about to drop. ::
”This is a warning. I’m coming at you hard. I’m coming at you fast. I am well-studied in every facet of this game. Like I said, I am under the assumption that you know everything there is to know about me. At least, everything that every resource available will yield to you. You have your own camp, you train your own way, you scout your opponents your own way, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have been around for this long. Like I said, Joey’s seen you around, he tells me you are legit, and all it does is excite me.”
:: I roll my neck out, I can feel the adrenaline. I want to move. I want to fight. The fact that I have to contain this until my Showdown return is torment. Sleeping is not something I look forward to, my energy level is too high. I think I’m going to run back to my apartment. Yeah, that’s it, a run should exert me enough for sleep. Pfft, I can just keep telling myself that. It’s worth a shot. ::
”I’m a competition junkie Mysery. Aside from monitored Greco-Roman wrestling exhibitions and lifting weights during exercise time, I’ve been a caged lion. With nowhere to run, nowhere to feed, leaving the first opponent upon my release with nowhere to hide. I want a fight. I need the release. That’s just how I function. I have an unquenchable thirst for war.”
:: The cigarette has been depleted of its life force. I toss it aside. Not even thinking of nicotine at this moment. All I’m thinking about is the correct form for applying a Thai clinch, the correct angle for the pivot foot for a low kick, I’m thinking of dealing damage, I’m thinking of causing harm. I’m thinking about restarting my ICW beginnings and bringing my name back to where it once was. ::
”You, Mysery, I am told, are a killer competitor. I hope the hype is right. I hope you come into this fight looking like you are cut from stone. I hope you are ready to hit hard and hit fast, because I am at my best. And if you are not ready to match fists and wits with me, you will be a step beneath cannon fodder when I am finished. You will be eviscerated. If you don’t come more prepared then you’ve ever been before, your remains will be scooped from the canvas with a shovel. Understand, Mysery, that with this match, we have the potential to make our names into names to watch in the ICW, or, I can crush your spine to powder. This is your choice.”
:: Time to bring it home. The point has been driven home. I just need to put a bow on this one and upload it. I could just send it to the ICW guys and have them upload, but then I run the chance that they’ll edit my footage. These are my real thoughts, and I want to make sure they make it to the viewers in a pure form. I start stretching my legs out for the run back to the Wren Wood Apartments. ::
"The victory is already mine, this is inevitable. However Mysery, you have an option as to how you want your ICW legacy. You can be seen as a competitor or a coward. Make your choice. I will see you on Saturday. Be ready. I am going to unleash months of caged rage in one fell swoop."
The camera briefly pans to the ground in an erratic form before it shuts down.
:: Jordan walks over to the car, which is still running. The passenger side window rolls down, and a man with a shaved head leans over to the window. ::
"Joey, I'm gonna road-work it all the way home, I'll see you there."
"Yeah man, I got some stuff for you to study when we get there. Now we go back to work."
"Music to my ears."
And with that, the passenger window rolls up, the car pulls away, and Jordan begins his run towards his apartment complex. Jordan Moss has delivered his message, how will Mysery respond? What can we expect from the World Title qualifier between the debuting Mysery and the returning Moss? Time can only tell. In the meantime, keep your eyes on the Kinslayer, for his rise has only just begun.
END FEED
8:15 PM
Baltimore, MD – Baltimore City Correctional Facility[/b]
LEGEND:
- dark green for internal thoughts and actions
- lime green for spoken words
A screen flickers to life. A familiar figure with short black hair and a full black beard to match. He is Jordan Moss. With hands in his pockets and fire in his eyes, he addresses the public.
”So let’s get down to brass tax. Jordan Moss came into the ICW with a helluva lot of fanfare. I had the entire world at my fingertips, and my limits were beyond the stars. This isn’t spoken out of arrogance, this is merely fact. Suddenly, I stopped showing up, I went .500 in my first two matches and then you never heard from me again. I bet all of you want to know why.”
:: Heh, if the fans don’t turn on me for this one, it’ll be a miracle, here goes nothing. ::
”I was in prison. As a matter of fact, I just got out.”
The camera pans over to the Correctional Facility, and then back to Jordan.
”See? Now its time I deserved, but I can tell you, a guy like me gets left alone in prison. I proved that my first night here. Now I’ve had a lot of time to think, I’ve had a lot of time to do pushups, I’ve had a lot of time to do situps, I’ve had a lot of time to sharpen my mind. As a matter of fact, all I’ve had is time. Two guards in here knew who I was, watched my back, let me watch tapes. I didn’t get any episodes of Showdown, but I did get a lot of what inspired me to get into this business in the first place. It kept me just as hungry as I’ve ever been.”
:: I take this time to light up a cigarette. Still haven’t kicked the habit, some things never change. It still doesn’t hinder my cardio in any way, my statistics have only grown stronger. I take out a letter from my sweatshirt pocket, and brandish it to the camera. ::
"I get a letter the other day. It wasn’t postmarked, it wasn’t dated, but it was given to me by one of the friendly guards instead of the usual mail delivery guard, so I trusted it. Came from a guy named Logan. No first name, no title, just, Logan. Tells me ICW has seen a regime change since the age of Kane Harlow. Tells me I’m a guy who’s still on his list. Tells me that if I’m as sharp as I’ve ever been, I’ve got a spot when I get out of the clink. Imagine my surprise."
:: I launch the cancerous smoke into the brisk Baltimore sky and lean against the building, very little traffic tonight, it’s a good night to be reintroduced to the outside world. I have plenty of time for that, but however, I must focus, for my reintroduction to the ICW world draws ever closer. I need them now more than ever to back on my feet financially. I need them more than ever because that’s my only physical outlet right now. Everything else, the MMA gyms, the old wrestling school, I left all that behind for this opportunity. This shot at Mysery is my shot back into relevance. ::
”And just imagine what I think of when I’m told days later that my first match will be against a guy named Mysery. Guys a national talent, been around the block a few times. Joey told me about him. We’ll talk more about Joey later, he’ll be around later, he’s my mentor. Now I know Mysery is watching this. It’s logical, I’m his opponent, he looks up my name on the internet, he sees this video, he checks it out, anyways. Mysery is just waiting to see what I’m going to say about him. What sort of witty catchphrases do I have up my sleeve in an attempt to emasculate him and cause him to second-guess his talents?”
:: I can’t help but chuckle after this one. I hate being all fourth wall, but let’s face it, that’s the approach of most independent wrestlers around the game these days. Let’s just tear down our opponents so the audience thinks they are nothing. NO! That is not what this is about. Professional wrestling is a game about perception. No matter the flaws you may think yourself to have, you shield all of them from prying eyes, and you build your opponent up. Every encounter is an epic encounter. Train for every fight like it is for the World Title. In the case of this one, it actually has some semblance of meaning in the greater scheme of the World Title picture. ::
”I’ve never liked that approach. I’m not an entertainer. That just isn’t what I do. I’ve been a warrior from the very beginning. State Champion amateur wrestler, jiu-jitsu practitioner, Muay Thai enthusiast, I’ve been running since my legs were fully formed. Like I said Mysery, you’re looking at my Obsessed With Wrestling profile right now,you already know all this, but this means you know what comes next.”
:: All business now. This is my M.O. right here, straight and to the point. All I can do is flash a signal in the sky, to do anymore would be a disservice to the competition. I launch another burst of smoke into the sky, it rushes over me, it brings me to zen. Interesting that the one thing that calms my manic mind before physical competition is smoking, which is rumored to be hazardous. I wouldn’t know. My father smoked for as long as I can remember, as did my mother. Its how I was raised. To work hard, fight harder, and smoke em if you got em. Some upbringing some would say, but I’m grateful for how far I’ve gotten. With all of this reflection, it centers me, it brings me to the place I need to be at to deliver such a damning sermon like the one I’m about to drop. ::
”This is a warning. I’m coming at you hard. I’m coming at you fast. I am well-studied in every facet of this game. Like I said, I am under the assumption that you know everything there is to know about me. At least, everything that every resource available will yield to you. You have your own camp, you train your own way, you scout your opponents your own way, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have been around for this long. Like I said, Joey’s seen you around, he tells me you are legit, and all it does is excite me.”
:: I roll my neck out, I can feel the adrenaline. I want to move. I want to fight. The fact that I have to contain this until my Showdown return is torment. Sleeping is not something I look forward to, my energy level is too high. I think I’m going to run back to my apartment. Yeah, that’s it, a run should exert me enough for sleep. Pfft, I can just keep telling myself that. It’s worth a shot. ::
”I’m a competition junkie Mysery. Aside from monitored Greco-Roman wrestling exhibitions and lifting weights during exercise time, I’ve been a caged lion. With nowhere to run, nowhere to feed, leaving the first opponent upon my release with nowhere to hide. I want a fight. I need the release. That’s just how I function. I have an unquenchable thirst for war.”
:: The cigarette has been depleted of its life force. I toss it aside. Not even thinking of nicotine at this moment. All I’m thinking about is the correct form for applying a Thai clinch, the correct angle for the pivot foot for a low kick, I’m thinking of dealing damage, I’m thinking of causing harm. I’m thinking about restarting my ICW beginnings and bringing my name back to where it once was. ::
”You, Mysery, I am told, are a killer competitor. I hope the hype is right. I hope you come into this fight looking like you are cut from stone. I hope you are ready to hit hard and hit fast, because I am at my best. And if you are not ready to match fists and wits with me, you will be a step beneath cannon fodder when I am finished. You will be eviscerated. If you don’t come more prepared then you’ve ever been before, your remains will be scooped from the canvas with a shovel. Understand, Mysery, that with this match, we have the potential to make our names into names to watch in the ICW, or, I can crush your spine to powder. This is your choice.”
:: Time to bring it home. The point has been driven home. I just need to put a bow on this one and upload it. I could just send it to the ICW guys and have them upload, but then I run the chance that they’ll edit my footage. These are my real thoughts, and I want to make sure they make it to the viewers in a pure form. I start stretching my legs out for the run back to the Wren Wood Apartments. ::
"The victory is already mine, this is inevitable. However Mysery, you have an option as to how you want your ICW legacy. You can be seen as a competitor or a coward. Make your choice. I will see you on Saturday. Be ready. I am going to unleash months of caged rage in one fell swoop."
The camera briefly pans to the ground in an erratic form before it shuts down.
:: Jordan walks over to the car, which is still running. The passenger side window rolls down, and a man with a shaved head leans over to the window. ::
"Joey, I'm gonna road-work it all the way home, I'll see you there."
"Yeah man, I got some stuff for you to study when we get there. Now we go back to work."
"Music to my ears."
And with that, the passenger window rolls up, the car pulls away, and Jordan begins his run towards his apartment complex. Jordan Moss has delivered his message, how will Mysery respond? What can we expect from the World Title qualifier between the debuting Mysery and the returning Moss? Time can only tell. In the meantime, keep your eyes on the Kinslayer, for his rise has only just begun.
END FEED
