Post by Bryce Albright on Sept 29, 2018 4:53:17 GMT
The camera opens up to Bryce Albright sitting at a table attempting to fix a radio. He seems to tighten something on the back before turning the radio to face him. "Let's see if that fixed it," he says, seemingly unaware of the camera now fixed upon him. He flips a switch and turns on the radio but is met with static. He turns the dial to change stations but again is met with static. He turns the dial some more and passes by what sounds to be a human voice.
Turning the dial back to hone in on the voice he hears, "Now Derek Wellings, you are no runner up, you're a champion across-". Bryce turns the radio off and pushes it aside rather violently.
Bryce sits at the table for a few moments with his head in his hands. Clearly distraught over the radio silence he was met with from his radio. Letting out a large sigh, Bryce shoots up and walks stage left off screen for a moment. He reappears for only a moment as he grabs the jacket draped over the back of the seat.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
MSG a voice resonates over visual of Madison Square Garden. At one point in history the MSG was the number one event venue in America. The only other venue that could ever hope to compete was the Omni in Atlanta. Originally built in 1879, the MSG has been demolished and rebuilt four separate times. In its long history the MSG made stars that would go on to shine brighter than that great glowing ball in the sky.
Simply put, stars didn't make Madison Square Garden; Madison Square Garden made people stars.
"And that is where we find ourselves now." Bryce says as he stands in front of the camera. He's wearing a suit underneath a black pilot jacket. His voice now picked up by the camera's microphone. "In front of the building that, in only two days, will hold Jubeilation for a great New York audience. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't experiencing pre-match jitters. My opponents are lying too if they tell you otherwise. It's the feeling deep in the pit of your stomach, an awkward concoction of excitement and anxiety, that makes you feel like jumping out of your own skin. The anticipation for the roar of the crowd; of hearing your music in all of its perfectly balanced glory." Bryce closes his eyes. "In a word: ecstasy." He opens his eyes again, staring directly into the camera.
"On the 30th of September, Brooke Bell, Ryker Morgan, Kira Izumi, Chris Moxley and myself will compete to become the inaugural New Blood Champion. One of us is coming out the loser in that match, three are going to fight as hard as we can and come out with nothing at all, and only one will come out smelling like roses with a twenty-pound gold belt. By my estimation," Bryce says as he adjusts the front of the pilot jacket. "...I'll be the one walking out as champion. I won't lie to you folks at home, though, it will be difficult for me. I pride myself on preparedness. Every time I step into a ring I do my best to fully scout out my opponents, however this match is a little more difficult. I have absolutely no idea who most of these people are - no offense to my opponents."
"Let us take Ryker Morgan as an example. The man seems to have just started existing as a 30 year old man. Everyone I have talked to - promoters included- say that the man is an empty book; no past to speak of. The promoters I talked to can't tell me anything useful about him. Just that one week he wasn't on the card, next week he was on the card. They don't even remember how they got in contact with him!" Bryce gets a concerned look on his face for just a moment. "At six-foot, six-inches, two-hundred eighty-nine pounds, and no tapes, interviews or video at all of Ryker Morgan that I can study to get a feel for him I am a little concerned. It's the fear of the unknown."
"Then there is Chris Moxley. All we know about him is that he likes to give himself nicknames. Come on..." Bryce says as he retrieves a sheet of paper from the inner pocket of his coat and begins reading it. "the Vengeful One," Bryce looks up from the sheet to give a perplexed look. "Hand of God, Dark Messiah." With his free hand, Bryce rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Oh boy, I remember when I thought I was edgy and badass. Devil's Saint was my super dark and edgy name." Bryce slowly and deliberately folds the paper up. "The difference between someone like Chris Moxley and someone like me; I grew out of my edge lord phase. I understand the whole anti-authority mentality; to a certain extent I understand the whole hardcore thing. It's not my cup of tea, but I also plan to be wrestling well into my fifties, thus need to take care of my body."
"I suppose that's another difference between Chris Moxley and I. In the words of former-president Ronald Reagan, there is a price I will not pay, and a point at which you must not advance." Bryce puts the folded up paper in the right pocket of his jacket. "There is not a price Chris Moxley will not pay, however, and I suppose that is a weakness to me. Chris doesn't regard human life the same way I do. He tries to end the careers of the people that step in the ring with him. It's evident in the way he speaks of the New Blood Wrestling roster. What was it he said..." Bryce trails off as he reaches again inside his jacket for a piece of paper. "...he will, quote, 'completely ravage and decimate the whole NBW roster'." Bryce looks up from the page. "What did this roster ever do to you? Is New Blood Wrestling the reason you are so pessimistic; or perhaps, New Blood Wrestling is one of those one per-center type businesses that tries to screw over the little man. Let us look at this message you put on twitter about NBW." Bryce uses his free hand to swiftly draw his phone from his pocket, adding a little flourish as he does. "Putting your binary through a translator we get..." Bryce flips the phone around with another flourish for the camera to see. "'You, dot dot, will, dot dot, all, dot dot, perish.'" Bryce slides the phone into his pocket again as he gives the camera a perplexed look again. "Why? Did Lucious Starr poop in your cereal one morning. Are you angry because a member of the roster slept with your girl?"
"Chris, my issue with you is relatively simple. Your motives don't line up in any capacity. This is an issue to me because you come off as a pretentious, self-centered, spoiled little brat that can't deal with the fact that real life isn't a walk in the park." Bryce shrugs. "I don't know what is your situation. Heck, maybe you have a valid reason for being a cynical edge lord, but you haven't really told us anything more than that you will attempt to destroy us. I ask you this, Chris: how do you expect the fans, much less the wrestlers, to take you seriously? I'm not shrug you aside and live in a fantasy world where you pose no threat to me; I'd be doing myself a disservice and blindly disrespecting you. Don't expect me to hear your cute little threats and begin shaking in my boots. Like Brooke Bell fans waiting for a new rap album, you will be sorely disappointed."
"I'm sorry, Brooke. It was a pretty easy jab to throw your way. If it makes you feel any better, I enjoyed looking through your storied history here in NBW. A former MC that traded the mic for a baby bottle; that's noble, and I respect that. But you don't want to hear me commend you for your past. I'm sure you'll even be a tad sore that I even so much as mention your family situation, even if it's positive." Bryce pulls a manila envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. He opens the top and pulls out a stack of papers. "From what I can tell, you want me to tell the world you will lose because you are inexperienced." Bryce looks up. "Right?" He looks back at the page. "From my predictions, you will also mention how you are the first and only Women's Champion having won it at Blood Moon Rising. That way you can remind the fans, and newcomers who don't do their homework, who the heck you are. My predictions also say you will tell these people your last match was in February. Again, you gotta remind people who you are." Bryce raises his head. "Well, Miss Bell you look like you could be a formidable opponent. I've done my research on you, so I think I can take you down. Don't worry, Bell," Bryce winks. "I'll make sure I'm wearing a cup. I'm not going to have you pulling the same shenanigans on me as you did FarCry. Provided you fight cleanly, you and I can have a real wrestling match while the other three are busy hitting each other over the head with trash cans."
"And that leaves me with Kira Izumi. I was really surprised to have found so much on you, Kira." Bryce reaches off-screen to receive a large binder. He opens it up to a random page. "You have a family as well; and don't worry, I won't target them. I bring them up because I have noticed a very strong need for you to protect them. A noble effort. You find strength in your family because you fight for your family." Bryce looks up. "A tiger cornered..." he trails off. "You've got a troubled past, and you seem pretty open about it. I'm sorry you had to go through that, but despite it turning you into the adult version of Holden Caulfield- despite you fighting to make a better life for your family... Kira, I'm walking away from that match as the New Blood Champion. As you once said, Kira, 'My title, my destiny will be realized'. Come Jubeilation, I will find a way to keep your fighting spirit, your never say die attitude, down. I don't need to beat you, I just need to pin one of you at an opportune time."
"See, because this match isn't the hardcore environment Ryker, Moxley, and Kira thrive in. This is a scramble match, a test of endurance, stamina, fortitude. This is a wrestling match that forces you to constantly be at the top of your game, and in that case, I feel like I have the advantage. I'm willing to except my own flaws going into this match. By acknowledging my shortcomings I am able to work around them; again, advantage goes to me." From the binder Bryce pulls a picture of his opponents lined up. "You all have an equal chance of winning. When it comes down to bell time, the winner will be the person that took every opportunity that came to them and utilized it. Advantage goes out the window for all of us; weaknesses are magnified. Now, I'm actively training for this match to cover my weaknesses, and to prepare for a situation in which the four of you attack me. Take out the big threat first, then deal with everybody else. It makes sense to me. Like I've been saying though..." Bryce puts the binder down and pulls a thick sharpie from his coat pocket. He turns the photo. "I'm going to defeat the four of you and win the New Blood Championship. My words are as good as gold. And as you all come out, I can promise you the fans will be telling you Bryce is gonna kill you, and their words will be as good as gold. I'm not aiming to end careers here, but I am aiming to be the best wrestler here. Jubeilation and the New Blood Championship are my first stops." Bryce begins to write on the photo. "34 years ago, 23rd of January... The wrestling business was never the same again, because on that fateful night in Madison Square Garden a star was born. 34 years later, 30th of September... The wrestling business will never be the same, as the Absolute Champion becomes a star at Madison Square Garden."
EDN
2b8eff cecccc
Turning the dial back to hone in on the voice he hears, "Now Derek Wellings, you are no runner up, you're a champion across-". Bryce turns the radio off and pushes it aside rather violently.
Bryce sits at the table for a few moments with his head in his hands. Clearly distraught over the radio silence he was met with from his radio. Letting out a large sigh, Bryce shoots up and walks stage left off screen for a moment. He reappears for only a moment as he grabs the jacket draped over the back of the seat.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
MSG a voice resonates over visual of Madison Square Garden. At one point in history the MSG was the number one event venue in America. The only other venue that could ever hope to compete was the Omni in Atlanta. Originally built in 1879, the MSG has been demolished and rebuilt four separate times. In its long history the MSG made stars that would go on to shine brighter than that great glowing ball in the sky.
Simply put, stars didn't make Madison Square Garden; Madison Square Garden made people stars.
"And that is where we find ourselves now." Bryce says as he stands in front of the camera. He's wearing a suit underneath a black pilot jacket. His voice now picked up by the camera's microphone. "In front of the building that, in only two days, will hold Jubeilation for a great New York audience. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't experiencing pre-match jitters. My opponents are lying too if they tell you otherwise. It's the feeling deep in the pit of your stomach, an awkward concoction of excitement and anxiety, that makes you feel like jumping out of your own skin. The anticipation for the roar of the crowd; of hearing your music in all of its perfectly balanced glory." Bryce closes his eyes. "In a word: ecstasy." He opens his eyes again, staring directly into the camera.
"On the 30th of September, Brooke Bell, Ryker Morgan, Kira Izumi, Chris Moxley and myself will compete to become the inaugural New Blood Champion. One of us is coming out the loser in that match, three are going to fight as hard as we can and come out with nothing at all, and only one will come out smelling like roses with a twenty-pound gold belt. By my estimation," Bryce says as he adjusts the front of the pilot jacket. "...I'll be the one walking out as champion. I won't lie to you folks at home, though, it will be difficult for me. I pride myself on preparedness. Every time I step into a ring I do my best to fully scout out my opponents, however this match is a little more difficult. I have absolutely no idea who most of these people are - no offense to my opponents."
"Let us take Ryker Morgan as an example. The man seems to have just started existing as a 30 year old man. Everyone I have talked to - promoters included- say that the man is an empty book; no past to speak of. The promoters I talked to can't tell me anything useful about him. Just that one week he wasn't on the card, next week he was on the card. They don't even remember how they got in contact with him!" Bryce gets a concerned look on his face for just a moment. "At six-foot, six-inches, two-hundred eighty-nine pounds, and no tapes, interviews or video at all of Ryker Morgan that I can study to get a feel for him I am a little concerned. It's the fear of the unknown."
"Then there is Chris Moxley. All we know about him is that he likes to give himself nicknames. Come on..." Bryce says as he retrieves a sheet of paper from the inner pocket of his coat and begins reading it. "the Vengeful One," Bryce looks up from the sheet to give a perplexed look. "Hand of God, Dark Messiah." With his free hand, Bryce rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Oh boy, I remember when I thought I was edgy and badass. Devil's Saint was my super dark and edgy name." Bryce slowly and deliberately folds the paper up. "The difference between someone like Chris Moxley and someone like me; I grew out of my edge lord phase. I understand the whole anti-authority mentality; to a certain extent I understand the whole hardcore thing. It's not my cup of tea, but I also plan to be wrestling well into my fifties, thus need to take care of my body."
"I suppose that's another difference between Chris Moxley and I. In the words of former-president Ronald Reagan, there is a price I will not pay, and a point at which you must not advance." Bryce puts the folded up paper in the right pocket of his jacket. "There is not a price Chris Moxley will not pay, however, and I suppose that is a weakness to me. Chris doesn't regard human life the same way I do. He tries to end the careers of the people that step in the ring with him. It's evident in the way he speaks of the New Blood Wrestling roster. What was it he said..." Bryce trails off as he reaches again inside his jacket for a piece of paper. "...he will, quote, 'completely ravage and decimate the whole NBW roster'." Bryce looks up from the page. "What did this roster ever do to you? Is New Blood Wrestling the reason you are so pessimistic; or perhaps, New Blood Wrestling is one of those one per-center type businesses that tries to screw over the little man. Let us look at this message you put on twitter about NBW." Bryce uses his free hand to swiftly draw his phone from his pocket, adding a little flourish as he does. "Putting your binary through a translator we get..." Bryce flips the phone around with another flourish for the camera to see. "'You, dot dot, will, dot dot, all, dot dot, perish.'" Bryce slides the phone into his pocket again as he gives the camera a perplexed look again. "Why? Did Lucious Starr poop in your cereal one morning. Are you angry because a member of the roster slept with your girl?"
"Chris, my issue with you is relatively simple. Your motives don't line up in any capacity. This is an issue to me because you come off as a pretentious, self-centered, spoiled little brat that can't deal with the fact that real life isn't a walk in the park." Bryce shrugs. "I don't know what is your situation. Heck, maybe you have a valid reason for being a cynical edge lord, but you haven't really told us anything more than that you will attempt to destroy us. I ask you this, Chris: how do you expect the fans, much less the wrestlers, to take you seriously? I'm not shrug you aside and live in a fantasy world where you pose no threat to me; I'd be doing myself a disservice and blindly disrespecting you. Don't expect me to hear your cute little threats and begin shaking in my boots. Like Brooke Bell fans waiting for a new rap album, you will be sorely disappointed."
"I'm sorry, Brooke. It was a pretty easy jab to throw your way. If it makes you feel any better, I enjoyed looking through your storied history here in NBW. A former MC that traded the mic for a baby bottle; that's noble, and I respect that. But you don't want to hear me commend you for your past. I'm sure you'll even be a tad sore that I even so much as mention your family situation, even if it's positive." Bryce pulls a manila envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. He opens the top and pulls out a stack of papers. "From what I can tell, you want me to tell the world you will lose because you are inexperienced." Bryce looks up. "Right?" He looks back at the page. "From my predictions, you will also mention how you are the first and only Women's Champion having won it at Blood Moon Rising. That way you can remind the fans, and newcomers who don't do their homework, who the heck you are. My predictions also say you will tell these people your last match was in February. Again, you gotta remind people who you are." Bryce raises his head. "Well, Miss Bell you look like you could be a formidable opponent. I've done my research on you, so I think I can take you down. Don't worry, Bell," Bryce winks. "I'll make sure I'm wearing a cup. I'm not going to have you pulling the same shenanigans on me as you did FarCry. Provided you fight cleanly, you and I can have a real wrestling match while the other three are busy hitting each other over the head with trash cans."
"And that leaves me with Kira Izumi. I was really surprised to have found so much on you, Kira." Bryce reaches off-screen to receive a large binder. He opens it up to a random page. "You have a family as well; and don't worry, I won't target them. I bring them up because I have noticed a very strong need for you to protect them. A noble effort. You find strength in your family because you fight for your family." Bryce looks up. "A tiger cornered..." he trails off. "You've got a troubled past, and you seem pretty open about it. I'm sorry you had to go through that, but despite it turning you into the adult version of Holden Caulfield- despite you fighting to make a better life for your family... Kira, I'm walking away from that match as the New Blood Champion. As you once said, Kira, 'My title, my destiny will be realized'. Come Jubeilation, I will find a way to keep your fighting spirit, your never say die attitude, down. I don't need to beat you, I just need to pin one of you at an opportune time."
"See, because this match isn't the hardcore environment Ryker, Moxley, and Kira thrive in. This is a scramble match, a test of endurance, stamina, fortitude. This is a wrestling match that forces you to constantly be at the top of your game, and in that case, I feel like I have the advantage. I'm willing to except my own flaws going into this match. By acknowledging my shortcomings I am able to work around them; again, advantage goes to me." From the binder Bryce pulls a picture of his opponents lined up. "You all have an equal chance of winning. When it comes down to bell time, the winner will be the person that took every opportunity that came to them and utilized it. Advantage goes out the window for all of us; weaknesses are magnified. Now, I'm actively training for this match to cover my weaknesses, and to prepare for a situation in which the four of you attack me. Take out the big threat first, then deal with everybody else. It makes sense to me. Like I've been saying though..." Bryce puts the binder down and pulls a thick sharpie from his coat pocket. He turns the photo. "I'm going to defeat the four of you and win the New Blood Championship. My words are as good as gold. And as you all come out, I can promise you the fans will be telling you Bryce is gonna kill you, and their words will be as good as gold. I'm not aiming to end careers here, but I am aiming to be the best wrestler here. Jubeilation and the New Blood Championship are my first stops." Bryce begins to write on the photo. "34 years ago, 23rd of January... The wrestling business was never the same again, because on that fateful night in Madison Square Garden a star was born. 34 years later, 30th of September... The wrestling business will never be the same, as the Absolute Champion becomes a star at Madison Square Garden."
EDN
2b8eff cecccc