Post by Bryce Albright on Oct 20, 2018 23:47:06 GMT
No intro, no diary entries no long spiel going in depth about what happened last week here. Bryce Albright, your New Blood Champion, is sitting on a bench in front of some lockers. The camera, zoomed out to show his whole body, makes him look small. His forearms are resting on his thighs as sweat drips from his forehead onto the leg of his shorts. With an elevated breath rate Bryce speaks to the camera, "last week, I not only won my match, but I defeated a tag team that tried its best to cut me down." Bryce takes a long breath in and exhales quickly. "Last week, I told the world that Brycie don't lose the game when factions attempt to make me their victim. Guess you could say my words were as good as gold. This week, I face more of the same. I am defending the New Blood Championship against Tay-see-ah Lattimore -hopefully I pronounced that correctly- in a tables match. I feel it would be dishonest to not acknowledge the elephant in the room. I am in a very good position to win this match; what with the almost-hundred-thirty pound difference and my superior upper-body strength. My bench press starts higher than her entire body weight." Bryce holds up his right arm in a defensive gesture. "Not that I am going to shrug you off, Tay-see-ah; not the way you have been shrugging off your opponents. As Jason Bateman once said, that's a bold strategy, Cotton. Let's see if it pays off."
Bryce lowers his arm back to his thigh. His breathing is slowing down, coming back under his control. "Let's talk about the character of our moral leader, Miss Bold-Strategist. Tay-see-ah Lattimore, a girl who comes from an impoverished nation and now wants to take it out on those capitalist pigs. Now, I'm not going begin a rant about how anti-capitalist rhetoric is wrong and misguided; that ain't me. I will comment on her, clearly, anti-Japanese rhetoric from two weeks ago, however, because it is pertinent. Three weeks ago, I found myself in a match with four other people; of the four, three were droning on about how violent and extreme they were. Two weeks ago, I underestimated Killer Kai, and I fell victim to his murder spree." Bryce snaps his head up with a look of sheer amazement on his face. "Hhheeyyy, that sounds the same as the last one!" Bryce's face relaxes to his default look of intensity. "Then last week, I faced a team crying out about how New Blood Wrestling is a disgrace and worthless, and how the Japanese are bad, and blah, blah, blah. Fast-forward to this week, and..." Bryce looks amazed again. "Hhheeyyy, Tay-see-ah is the same as the last one."
Bryce relaxes his face quickly. "If all this company is to you, Tay-see-ah, is a stepping stone -a leg up, as you put it- then don't waste my time." Bryce shoots an arm directly out from his body. "Leave New Blood, and never look back. Quite frankly, I have had enough of people complaining and whining about how this place is trash. You're getting a pay check, and pretty dang good one at that. You get to travel to far off lands I bet you never dreamed you would end up." Bryce leaves a five second pause. He closes his eyes as he seems to calm himself down. "For those of you who are avid Shakespeare fans, get ready. King Lear, Act 2, Scene 2." Again, he pauses for about five seconds. His breath completely inaudible at this point. "Tay-see-ah, there is truly only one way to describe you." Bryce shoots open his eyes. His face now showing the same level of intensity we saw last week.
"You are:
A knave, a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud,
shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy,
worsted-stocking knave... one whom I will beat into clamourous whining..."
Bryce jumps to his feet, his intensity not faultering. "Simply put, you are an vile, self-centered, unoriginal, banal, and overall unscrupulous woman who doesn't care about anything at all except herself. You have been in the wrestling business for less than a cup of coffee and already walking around like you deserve the world handed to you on a platter. Ironic, seeing as you called out Brooke Bell for walking around like 'God's gift' to the world. You are a talentless hack who walks around screaming I'm da best in the whole world like the twenty-thousand other wrestlers out there. Do you know when you are the best in the world? Do you know when you can genuinely believe you are the best? It's when other wrestlers, your peers, tell their fans who their favourite wrestler is. If you truly are the best, you never need to speak a word about it because everybody already knows; and even mentioning it would be a waste of breath. So you want to be the best, get in line and maybe grab a coffee while you're at it. You want to be the main-event here. You want to sell tickets. You want to be the best here. To be blunt, you have that opportunity this week. No one else in this company has come close to doing what I have. In the span of three weeks I have battled against seven opponents. Seven. You think Killer Kai is the best because he screams it? He hasn't faced a third of the opponents I have. Out of four potential shows, he's only fought on three. You want to face the best and prove yourself? No one has beaten more people in this ring than I have. Kai can boast about how he is the champion of the intercontinents; I am the champion of New Blood. I have proven my worth week-in, week-out."
Bryce begins to calm himself. He takes two steps back toward the bench he was sitting on previously. "You can go on dropping your eff-bombs to make yourself appear tough; it's all fine and dandy. If you want to boast about who you have beaten; go right ahead if it makes you feel better. I do not need to stroke my ego. My actions speak for themselves. Talk about how hardcore and real you are; the fans looking out upon you know you are just another cookie-cutter wannabe. The fact that you have the gall, the unmitigated audacity to look at me in the main event two weeks ago and cringe... I won't lie... it infuriates me that some green rookie, some two-week do-nothing has the nerve to disrespect me like that."
A door opens in the background. It closes with a loud thud. "This week... Night of the Yokai... in the middle of that ring, I will show you what happens when some pretend-wrestler disrespects the Lifeblood of New Blood. Unlike your career going forward, the FUTURE of New Blood Wrestling... IS ALBRIGHT!"
"Bryce, good training session today. Shower and get changed, we need to talk over strategy."
"I'll be right there, dad." Bryce turns to the camera. "I can promise you these words will be as good as gold. I will leave with the New Blood Championship around my waist."
Bryce walks off camera as we fade to black.
EDN
Bryce lowers his arm back to his thigh. His breathing is slowing down, coming back under his control. "Let's talk about the character of our moral leader, Miss Bold-Strategist. Tay-see-ah Lattimore, a girl who comes from an impoverished nation and now wants to take it out on those capitalist pigs. Now, I'm not going begin a rant about how anti-capitalist rhetoric is wrong and misguided; that ain't me. I will comment on her, clearly, anti-Japanese rhetoric from two weeks ago, however, because it is pertinent. Three weeks ago, I found myself in a match with four other people; of the four, three were droning on about how violent and extreme they were. Two weeks ago, I underestimated Killer Kai, and I fell victim to his murder spree." Bryce snaps his head up with a look of sheer amazement on his face. "Hhheeyyy, that sounds the same as the last one!" Bryce's face relaxes to his default look of intensity. "Then last week, I faced a team crying out about how New Blood Wrestling is a disgrace and worthless, and how the Japanese are bad, and blah, blah, blah. Fast-forward to this week, and..." Bryce looks amazed again. "Hhheeyyy, Tay-see-ah is the same as the last one."
Bryce relaxes his face quickly. "If all this company is to you, Tay-see-ah, is a stepping stone -a leg up, as you put it- then don't waste my time." Bryce shoots an arm directly out from his body. "Leave New Blood, and never look back. Quite frankly, I have had enough of people complaining and whining about how this place is trash. You're getting a pay check, and pretty dang good one at that. You get to travel to far off lands I bet you never dreamed you would end up." Bryce leaves a five second pause. He closes his eyes as he seems to calm himself down. "For those of you who are avid Shakespeare fans, get ready. King Lear, Act 2, Scene 2." Again, he pauses for about five seconds. His breath completely inaudible at this point. "Tay-see-ah, there is truly only one way to describe you." Bryce shoots open his eyes. His face now showing the same level of intensity we saw last week.
"You are:
A knave, a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud,
shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy,
worsted-stocking knave... one whom I will beat into clamourous whining..."
Bryce jumps to his feet, his intensity not faultering. "Simply put, you are an vile, self-centered, unoriginal, banal, and overall unscrupulous woman who doesn't care about anything at all except herself. You have been in the wrestling business for less than a cup of coffee and already walking around like you deserve the world handed to you on a platter. Ironic, seeing as you called out Brooke Bell for walking around like 'God's gift' to the world. You are a talentless hack who walks around screaming I'm da best in the whole world like the twenty-thousand other wrestlers out there. Do you know when you are the best in the world? Do you know when you can genuinely believe you are the best? It's when other wrestlers, your peers, tell their fans who their favourite wrestler is. If you truly are the best, you never need to speak a word about it because everybody already knows; and even mentioning it would be a waste of breath. So you want to be the best, get in line and maybe grab a coffee while you're at it. You want to be the main-event here. You want to sell tickets. You want to be the best here. To be blunt, you have that opportunity this week. No one else in this company has come close to doing what I have. In the span of three weeks I have battled against seven opponents. Seven. You think Killer Kai is the best because he screams it? He hasn't faced a third of the opponents I have. Out of four potential shows, he's only fought on three. You want to face the best and prove yourself? No one has beaten more people in this ring than I have. Kai can boast about how he is the champion of the intercontinents; I am the champion of New Blood. I have proven my worth week-in, week-out."
Bryce begins to calm himself. He takes two steps back toward the bench he was sitting on previously. "You can go on dropping your eff-bombs to make yourself appear tough; it's all fine and dandy. If you want to boast about who you have beaten; go right ahead if it makes you feel better. I do not need to stroke my ego. My actions speak for themselves. Talk about how hardcore and real you are; the fans looking out upon you know you are just another cookie-cutter wannabe. The fact that you have the gall, the unmitigated audacity to look at me in the main event two weeks ago and cringe... I won't lie... it infuriates me that some green rookie, some two-week do-nothing has the nerve to disrespect me like that."
A door opens in the background. It closes with a loud thud. "This week... Night of the Yokai... in the middle of that ring, I will show you what happens when some pretend-wrestler disrespects the Lifeblood of New Blood. Unlike your career going forward, the FUTURE of New Blood Wrestling... IS ALBRIGHT!"
"Bryce, good training session today. Shower and get changed, we need to talk over strategy."
"I'll be right there, dad." Bryce turns to the camera. "I can promise you these words will be as good as gold. I will leave with the New Blood Championship around my waist."
Bryce walks off camera as we fade to black.
EDN