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Post by Justin Rivera on Dec 2, 2021 5:42:43 GMT
Justin Rivera: The First Steps.
---The IIW. That is the promotion that I have chosen for the beginning of my career. The landing spot, where soon enough, I shall be walking through the door and making sure that everybody realizes that I'm not just here to play games. I'm not just here to fill out the roster or tread water. I'm here to dominate and demolish anybody who believes that they can stop me. Anyone who thinks that they can cut me down and make me "eat humble pie" that sadly for them, that isn't going to be the case. That when they step into the ring against me, they're not simply stepping into the ring with another wrestler. Another man who they can face off with and then forget about once the match is done, moving onto the next challenge.
No. If that's what I wanted to be, then I would have just chosen a nine-to-five job and kept working in the dojo in the background. I plan to be the name that sticks in your mind. The man that you remember stepping into the ring against, and the man you remember out-classing you in every way, before knocking out the fuck out and leaving you looking up at the lights. Decimated and with an understanding of what happens when you find yourself in the ring with somebody who has fought their entire life. Somebody who knows how to injure you in ways that you could never fathom. Ways that you had never even considered. To you, the ways that I can hurt you are unimaginable, yet they are ways that I have refined. They are ways that I have honed in the dojo with Ryan and now, it is time for me to unleash them upon the world.
Upon the IIW.
Starting with the opponent who has been given the honor as being the first person to stand against me. The first man who shall learn what it is like to have to face me and understand. The first man who shall be left at my feet, the moment being too much for them. The class being a step above the level that they have allowed themselves to become accustomed to. Ryan McCann. See, Ryan, you're not just stepping into the ring with another wrestler. You're not just stepping into the ring with a man who is setting out to give you a simple match. A fight that you can go home, take a shower and rid yourself of when it is done.
No, I intend on making sure that when you do go home. When you tuck yourself into bed once the match is over and you have been scraped up off the mat, that this match sticks with you. That it haunts you and makes you realize that no matter who you are. No matter how passionate about this industry you might claim to be, that you just aren't good enough. You aren't skilled enough when it comes to actually having to fight to hang with me. That no matter how they might bill you as, no matter how the talent within the IIW might be seen,
there is not a single soul that has the blend of skill and athleticism that I do. There is not a single soul that can come close to saying that they are as proficient in the arts of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, Muay Thai and Kickboxing as I am on this roster, and most importantly, there is not a single soul on the roster that can step to me and walk out with the victory. That includes you. Come "Red Alert", that will become abundantly clear when we both set foot in the ring and you are left with no choice but to admit that on the night, you were bested by the better man. That better man being... me.
It's a belief that I have instilled into myself, one that is a prerequisite for engaging in any combat sport. You have to believe that you are the better man, otherwise you will be left in the dark when others pass you by. When they leave you in the dust and without a means of catching up to them. Just as I will do with you when "Red Alert" rolls around. Just as Lauren said when we talked on the phone yesterday, she knows that I am the best. That the dojo that we both came from built us. Trained us and enabled us to hone our craft to a level beyond that of the average participant in this sort of activity. It's something that will be more than evident when we set foot in the ring at "Red Alert".
Don't worry though, I promise you that it won't be a waste of time. That it will be something that you can hang up on your wall and look back at when I am at the apex and you are simply left to look up at me. Realizing that I was right this whole time. To some, the debut is the most important match of their career. It is their way of making a first impression. To me, it is simply a statement. A message and a note to those who may not understand it. Who may just see me as another man who is using this platform as a stepping stone to greener pastures, when that isn't the case at all. I plan on being here eternally, my shadow looming like a dark cloud over IIW as they open their eyes to the truth. You are just the first man lucky enough to witness it.---
The scene opens to Justin, sitting in his caramel colored leather chair within his apartment, attired in a black Nike t-shirt, black Nike shorts and black/neon green Nike shoes, holding a can of coke in his right hand. Ever since Lauren flew out to begin her own journey, also within the halls of the IIW, the apartment has been deathly silent. To the point where there are times where the only sound that can be heard is that of the occasional mouse, scurrying down the halls and toward other apartments within the complex.
It has also left a void in her chair, one that Justin hasn't bothered with filling as he knew that his own decision would have to be made soon enough. He knew that there was a possibility that he too, would be flying out on his own journey within the world of professional wrestling sooner rather than later, and as such, would have to leave this apartment. Leave the state that he has lived in ever since he was four, behind. A time that is indeed coming, as two days ago, he made the decision to sign with the IIW. To join Lauren on their roster, and reign over their halls. Deeply sighing, his glance begins to dart between the empty chair, then toward the portrait of the New York skyline which adorns their cream colored right hand side wall, before an audible but gentle sigh leaves his lips.
Justin: I knew this day would come. I knew there would be a time that I would spread my wings and take flight. That I would leave the nest and roam free... and that time inches ever so closer.
A soft smile begins to cross his face, as he looks around the apartment. Letting everything sink in and admiring the effort that he and Lauren [[though it was mostly her]] had put into "fixing up" the apartment and actually making it out to be somewhat livable. He still remembers the first day he moved in, and how it had looked like a hurricane had torn through it. How it wasn't in a state that anybody would be happy living in, and whilst it's still not perfect in that regard, the two of them plus their friends at least left it in a state to where the next tenants won't have to completely redesign the apartment in order to have it live up to basic standards. "Leave it in a state better than you got there" is the mentality they had when it came to the apartment.
Reclining back in the chair, his eyes return their focus toward the Television screen, which had been on ESPN. Primarily their acclaimed "SportsCenter" broadcast. It was something to have on in the background for him and who knows, perhaps they may have even seen fit to talk about his decision to forego the MMA world, at least for now, and instead divert toward professional wrestling. Wrinkles begin to form between his eyes as he frowns, Justin listens as the hosts chat about the goings on around the sporting world whilst waiting to see if they intend to talk about him. Or wrestling in general, as he knew ESPN had done so in the past.
Yet presently, they appear to be focused on basketball and football. Not that Justin blames them, those two sports are the primary money-makers for the company and from a business perspective, it makes sense to focus on them. He also enjoys both sports too, having played basketball in his high school days as a Point Guard, reaching the heights of number seven in the state. A soft sigh leaves his lips as the recap goes on, before he slightly re-adjusts his body to attempt to get more comfortable in the chair, before he shoots a glance back across at Lauren's chair.
Usually, she would shoot him a loving look whenever he attempted to move his body in the chair, sometimes accompanied with a giggle yet there was no sound in return. No smile. Only silence and it reminds him of the gravity of this decision. Of just what the decision truly signifies to him. To both of them. The fact that they will both be on the road, more often than not in different locations, so the training sessions they would frequently do together... are unlikely to happen. It also means that they won't be staying together, and over the phone, as it had been yesterday, is the sole way they can communicate to the extent they have over the past nine months.
Justin: It's so empty without her here. It's as if a piece of me has gone away, even if she is just a call away...
His tone soft, he feels his eyes beginning to moisten as he continues staring at the chair. Imagining that her slender body is seated within it, staring back at him.
Justin: I know you'll make us proud... just as I plan to when I begin my own journey. We've come too far to let ourselves down now, and I know how hard we've worked to even get to this point. To step out and represent the dojo with pride and honor, just as we swore when we took the oath the very first session. I know it's what Ryan would want us to do, too.
Tilting his head about ninety degrees toward the television, he gently places his hands atop the armrest cushions, using them to vault himself up into a vertical decision, before making his way toward his bedroom. Although he doesn't fly out until Saturday afternoon, he wants to make sure that he is completely packed and ready to go before then, so that he has minimal to do when the day arrives and he ventures across the Atlantic and to England. Manchester to be precise. A location he has never been before, yet it is the home of his new landing spot. The place that he shall be calling home, at least for the foreseeable future. The scene then fades as he continues to make his way toward his bedroom.
Fifteen hours later, Justin can be seen sitting on a park bench, looking out at the tranquil waters of Webster Pond, and attired in a black Nike hooded Jacket, jeans and white Nike sneakers. Seated to his left, and attired in a white tank top, jeans and white/red Adidas sneakers is one of his closest friends, as well as somebody he has known since elementary school back home in Utica. Eliza. She has travelled from Buffalo in order to see him before he flies out to England, as the two haven't seen one another in about a year, since they graduated high school. Eliza accepted a scholarship to study Business Administration and Management at the University of Buffalo, whereas Justin elected to take up a scholarship majoring in Education at Syracuse University. This is the first time the two have been free at the same time, especially as the holiday season enters full swing. Glancing across at him, Eliza broadly grins as Justin smiles warmly in return. The two are enjoying this time they are spending with one another.
Eliza: How's life been for you?
Justin laughs gently as he stares into her emerald green eyes.
Justin: It's been as good as it can be, honestly. Can't really complain. How about you? How are Monica and Stacy?
Eliza laughs calmly, as her smile widens slightly and she slightly slides closer to Justin. Just like she used to when the two were in junior year at high school and sitting at the cafeteria during lunch. Simpler times for the two of them.
Eliza: They're good thanks. Monica moved to Michigan with her fiancé in June and Stacy has been working on becoming a counselor so she's been staying with mom and dad.
Justin: How about you? How have classes been? Are you still with Matt?
Eliza's face starts to flush at that last query, as she feels a small churn in her stomach.
Eliza: Classes are great! Tiring but I'm having a lot of fun, even if some of my classmates stress me out at times, haha. And yeah, Matt and I are still together, though he has flown out to his brother's house in Chicago for the holidays.
Justin laughs, as he knows the feeling of stress-inducing classmates. He has about five of them in most of his classes, but typically tries to pay them no mind. It can be irritating though, especially when trying to pay attention to what the professor is telling them and making notes. Sighing, he casts a glance out to the pond, before looking back at Eliza, who had taken a look out at the pond herself.
He knows he should probably tell her about his decision to try his hand at professional wrestling in earnest, seeing as that is partially the reason why he invited her here, as they won't get another chance to do something like this for a while, if at all, due to him signing with the IIW and having to travel to England. To him, this is a chance to say farewell to her and have one last moment with each other, something that is evident by the vacant stare and moistness within his eyes.
Justin: I... I have something to tell you...
A quizzical smile appearing across her face, she focuses her gaze upon him, as her mouth opens partially. Interested in hearing what it is that he has to say, and if it had been what he hinted in the text he sent her when he invited her here. Something he had stated was "life changing" for him, and that he had been excited about making this decision.
Eliza: What is it?
He stares into her eyes, making sure to hold eye contact as he inhales deeply, trying to just let the words roll out of his mouth. "Get the elephant in the room out of the way" so to speak.
Justin: I decided to sign up for a wrestling company. The IIW, based in Manchester. Flying out Saturday afternoon, so I wanted to spend some time with you before I left.
Eliza beams, as she extends her arms out for an embrace. Although she has never really been interested in wrestling, or any sport outside of volleyball, she knows that this is something Justin held at least some interest in. Though she raises her eyebrows at the location, seeing as the Manchester she knows is only a five hour drive away.
Eliza: The one in England? Or New Hampshire?
Justin lightly chuckles as he embraces her.
Justin: England haha. I wish it was the New Hampshire one, but either way, I'm excited to see what they can offer me. See if they can provide me with the challenge I seek in life.
Eliza: Oh, that's awesome! I've always wanted to go to England. Maybe I can come one day and we can meet up.
She laughs, shooting Justin a sly wink.
Eliza: Plus, I'll see if mom knows anyone there who might be able to help you with accommodation. I know she knows some realtors from there.
Justin gives her a dimpled smile. He had known her mom was in the real estate business, but didn't realize she knew anyone from there. If she does, it will make it easier for him in terms of finding somewhere to stay and not have to mess around with hotel rooms.
Justin: That'd be great. Let me know if she does, as I haven't been able to find anywhere just yet.
Her eyes gleaming, Eliza pulls her face toward his right ear, resting her jaw on his shoulder.
Eliza: I will! I'll call you tonight if she does.
Justin: Alright, thanks. You know my number, right?
She playfully punches his ribs with her right hand, causing a soft gasp to leave his lips.
Eliza: Of course I do! I saved it when you texted me.
Justin laughs calmly. He had only wanted to cover his bases and make sure she had done so. After all, he knows from previous experience that she can sometimes be forgetful when it comes to phone numbers. Though admittedly, he also has that trait, which is something Lauren among others have poked fun at him for. Eliza then breaks away from the hug, leaning back slightly but making sure to maintain eye contact.
Eliza: So, when do you make your debut with them?
Justin feels his jaw beginning to quiver and the words ready to spout out of his mouth and into the air.
Justin: December 12th, at their "Red Alert" Pay-Per-View. I'm surprised you asked, as I know you're not that interested in sports.
Her glare turns into one that epitomizes the phrase "if looks could kill", as Justin sardonically grins, the dimples even more evident upon his face, alongside his widened eyes and raised eyebrows.
Eliza: I'm interested in you, dummy! Of course something like this interests me if you're involved.
Justin simply smirks at her, noticing the teasing look within her eyes and the sly grin that is painted upon her face. The radiance of her face helps to hide the dimples that have formed on her own cheek. Leaning in, Justin places a soft kiss upon her cheek, causing her to blush and giggle softly, butterflies forming in her stomach, just as they had whenever he would kiss her in high school.
Justin: Haha, I guess so.
She smiles, as Justin looks out at the vast, open space surrounding them, as well as the tranquil water of the pond. It's why this is one of his favorite places to visit when he needs time to decompress and just let everything sink in. Let him gather his thoughts and feel at ease with himself. Allow his both and soul to be cleansed by the cool, drifting breeze. An experience that he wished to share with Eliza, just as he has done with Lauren in the past. His eyes beginning to glaze over, he watches the small ripples in the water, inhaling and exhaling as the crisp air fills his lungs. Soaking in what will likely be his final visit here for a little while.
Eliza: Justin...
No response, as he continues to glare outward, the fabric of his shirt and pants swaying in the breeze and causing Eliza to extend her right hand out, waving it across his face like a fan in order to try and regain his focus.
Justin: Yeah?
His voice soft and almost as if it is floating away, he looks across at her and notices the calm yet stern expression upon her face.
Eliza: Just making sure you hadn't drifted too far.
He chuckles.
Justin: Of course not. Was just admiring the lake. So, what do you want to do?
She smiles at him, before gently clasping his right hand with her own, standing up and motioning in the direction of the café that is about four hundred feet from where they are seated.
Eliza: I could go for a coffee. Starting to feel sleepy here and still have to drive home later.
Justin smirks.
Justin: Sure. I could use one myself.
The two then stand and begin to walk toward the coffee stand as the scene fades.
Three days later, the scene opens to Justin, sitting in the stands, nine rows back from courtside at the Carrier dome, wearing a black singlet, black basketball shorts and black Under armor sneakers, whilst simply looking out at the basketball court below. His eyes focused on it as he gently pressed his back against the orange plastic of the seat he is atop. Pursing his lips, he prepares to speak as his mind begins to flood with thoughts of just what is awaiting him. The doors that he is about to open for himself the moment he steps onto the plane and flies out.
Justin: Ryan McCann... the person who shall go down in the history books as the first of many to fall. The first, to be left in the wake of the storm that is looming. The dark, stormy clouds that linger over the heads of each and every soul within the IIW. The one who shall be the messenger that these words aren't just words. That they are just idle threats that can be shrugged off and forgotten about... rather, they are promises. They are forecasts of what shall occur, each and every time I step into that ring.
Hunching forward, Justin's face contorts into a scowl as the echo surrounding him punctuates the words that leave his mouth.
Justin: I'm not the sort of person who plays games. I'm not the sort of person who messes around and "plays with his food", Ryan. I'm not here to entertain, nor am I here to preach to you about just what I have in store. [[Shaking his head, Justin's lips curl into a small smile]] Why should I be that sort of person? No. I'm somebody who would rather show you the world of hurt I have in store when we step into the ring. I'd much rather ensure that you understand that you're not going to have a chance to out wrestle me. To out fight me or "beat me at my own game" because you won't even be able to get a shot in before you're on the mat. Out cold and left only with the memory of the man who did this to you. The man who laid you out, did it simply because he could. Because he wanted to show you that it didn't matter what your area of expertise was. It didn't matter that you were passionate about this industry. All that mattered is that you were the one who found themselves on the opposite side of the ring to me, and that it was that and that alone which resulted in your doom.
The intensity radiating from his voice, his nose begins to wrinkle as a burning sensation arises within his eyes. His focus however, remains solely on the court below.
Justin: Take solace in knowing that at least you were the first. The man whose name will forever hold that distinction, as people begin to realize and comprehend that martial arts. That high school wrestling can seamlessly blend together and harmoniously decimate an opponent. That there is nobody that can lay claim to holding the skillset I do between those ropes, just as there was nobody who could keep up with me in the dojo. This may not have been my first love. It may not have been what I aspired to do when I was growing up, but that doesn't mean that I am taking this easy. Or that I simply see it as a springboard. A platform to higher plains because that couldn't be any further from the truth.
Wrinkles forming underneath his eyes, Justin snickers at any assertion. Any commentary that might imply that is the case, for they don't know him. They don't know how he operates, nor have they realized that if he was simply using this as a platform to showcase himself for MMA promotions, he wouldn't be sitting here as he is currently. Sliding further, his buttocks are on the edge of the seat as he continues to glare forward.
Justin: I wouldn't be here if that were the case. I wouldn't be stepping into the ring at "Red Alert" and preparing to dominate Ryan if that were the case. Nor would I be giving you the warning that I am. I do so because this is my home. This is where I plan on making my name and ensuring that people realize that if you find yourself looking deep into my eyes, then your impending doom is nigh. Ryan, you are simply the first chapter in this story and come "Red Alert", that will become evident to the world.
Justin then stands up and begins to make his way to the left, across the concrete pathway separating each row as the scene fades.
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Post by Ryan McCann on Dec 7, 2021 20:22:42 GMT
Well then, where the hell have you been?
The sound of Mike Fisher’s elegant tones ring out as we flash up in the IIW Locker room as the door has swung open and none other then The Pure Wrestler Ryan McCann has walked in.
Honestly Ryan, you’ve been known to go missing for time before, but even by your standards this has really taken the piss
Ryan stops he looks at Mike before continuing walking, Mike follows him down to corridor trying to get something out of him
I knew you were due back when I heard Bob Mitchell had booked you in a match against Justin Rivera but no one, not even Justin was sure if you were going to show up for this match, are you even in the right frame of mind for this?
They keep walking with Ryan still not saying a word
Ryan?
No response
Ryan, come on talk to me
No Response
Honestly Ryan I’ve known you for almost 16 years..
“16 YEARS….. 16 YEARS MIKE!”
“It’s a long time Mike… It’s a long time by anyone’s standards isn’t it?”
Well Yeah
“Well how about you respect what I do around here because I have stood the test of time, how many of the others haven’t? You know people like Heat… people like hitman… people like Rogue… Jack Hill, they come in here, they burn bright but they very quickly burn out, yet they’re held as heroes around here, they’re branded about as living legends… The likes of myself… I just don’t get the accolades I truly deserve….”
Well that’s just not true Ryan!
“Mike, look at this… my big home coming as you say, it’s been a while and what am I done? I’m not involved in any of these big matches, not even the big 6 man ladder match for a future opportunity, I’m thrown up against Justin Rivera? “
Well If you haven’t seen this guy looks the real deal! It’s an honour to face him
“NO!”
Ryan looks on in digust
“It’s an honour to face me!”
“I am a living legend”
“I am incomparable”
“look at the IIW!, look at what it is today. The most Pure wrestling federation around! I dare anyone in any aspect of life to even try and deny that is the case, and that doesn’t happen because Osh Vaughan or Bob Mitchell are doing all the shenanighans that keep the federation a float in the back ground, that’s because they’ve got a talent like me who has cleaned up after them, I’ve seen off the talent that don’t deserve to be here, I’ve cleaned up, I’ve done all the dirty work!, all these wanna be’s these hardcore thugs… these mask wearing gimboids… I’ve chased them out of this federation…. The Lost Ghost….Jason Hunter….Apocalypse… These guys have come, they’ve turned up to face a pure wrestler and I’ve beat the ‘crazyness’ out of them I’ve been the ‘hardcore’ out of them.
“oooo look at me I’m so edgy, they would all come out and say, they only talk in riddles or they decided to have a bionic arm! I don’t know, the crap they all came out with, I saw through them, the only way to progress the IIW as a federation is through pure wrestling, so having the most pure wrestler that has ever graced the federation as your key player really gives IIW the gravitas it needs”
Mike Fisher looks up at Ryan
But Ryan… Don’t you get it? I know youv’e been away but Justin… Justin could just be that guy? He’s not here to play games, he’s not here to be mysterious, he’s here to kick the crap out of any talent infront of him
“You say Mike?... Maybe finally the IIW has some real competition, maybe this is the result of the hardwork I’ve put on that we’re finally attracting the right type of talent to the federation, but that means at Red Alert the fans are in for a true classic, a pure fist vs fist fight, a technical display the likes of which, they’ve never seen the likes of which… I will go and study up on Mr Rivera… But until proven different…He will not pass the purity test”
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Post by Justin Rivera on Dec 12, 2021 3:00:42 GMT
Justin Rivera: Mind Over Matter.
---England. Manchester to be exact. This is where I have made my home. This is where it all begins, and I commence my journey within the world of professional wrestling. A world that I did not foresee myself entering even just three months ago. But here I am now, and I fully intend on making the most of it. If I wasn't going to, then I would have been content with booking a hotel room and staying there until my stint was done and I would be moving onto my next destination. Yet instead, I have been searching for a house, or even an apartment to stay in whilst I am here, aided in doing so by Eliza's mom, Lucy.
It turned out that she did indeed have some contacts in the area that she reached out to, and was able to find me an apartment on the outskirts of the city. Close enough to the arena for ease of access, but far enough away so that I can have at least some semblance of privacy. Away from the prying eyes of the media. At least, for now that is. As a bonus, there is a gym close by where I can train and continue refining my craft as I ascend up the ranks and prove that I am as good as I say that I am. That I am every bit the threat that I make myself out to be.
Something that you will be able to learn first hand when I step into the ring for the first time.
I don't just plan on telling you how good I am. Or that I am going to become world champion, because words aren't everything. Words aren't the reason I toiled within the dojo back home, my blood and sweat staining the mat each and every session. Words aren't why I am here, preparing myself for the first step. The first opportunity to make my mark within these halls and to send a message that shall reverberate throughout. Leaving each and every person wandering through with no doubt as to who the man that will be ruling the roost is. No, it is actions that shall show that. It is the craving for action. The lust for the screams. The cries of agony as opponents hands hit the mat. As their carcasses lay there, broken and battered at my hands that led me to these doors.
Starting with Ryan McCann.
Ryan, I heard what you had to say. I heard what you had to say about your experience in the ring and how you have been doing this for sixteen years. Almost as long as I have been alive, yet that isn't going to help you. That isn't going to save you or give you any authority when we stand in that ring at "Red Alert" and look each other dead in the eye. Our irises shining and our stare being enough to kill whoever is unfortunate enough to be standing in our way, or even each other. Nor will your supposed "Pure Wrestling" because for as much as you appear to pride yourself on that. As much as you have allowed it to define your personality, you are about to learn that I am a step ahead of you in that regard. Heck, I won a state championship in high school when I wasn't primarily focused on wrestling... Imagine what I can do, now that it is my primary focus. Now that it is the path that I have chosen for myself.
You won't have to imagine much longer, Ryan. You'll be able to say you experienced it come December 12th.-- The scene opens to an apartment on the outskirts of Manchester. One that has mauve colored carpeting and snow white plastered walls that still have markings from where posters and artwork from the previous occupants had once adorned the walls, as well as nails that had yet to be pulled out from the walls that had once held picture frames. The rest of the apartment itself is barren, evident by the fact that the living room has cardboard boxes still laying around, filled with various accessories and articles of clothing that Justin had brought over to England within them. Well, the clothing that he couldn't fit into his luggage anyway.
In fact, there isn't any furniture set up in the apartment, aside from a singular chocolate brown single-seat couch that is about five inches south of the center point of the lounge area. Seated atop it and wearing a black under armor shirt, black under armor gym shorts and black under armor sneakers, is Justin, who has a slight frown across his face and dilated pupils as he stares forward. His shoulders are hunched and the man himself is leaning forward slightly, his buttocks positioned on the edge of the cushion.
Justin: In only a matter of days, I will be stepping into the ring for the first time for the IIW. I will be going out there and showing them that I called Ryan a stepping stone. I told him that he is the first man that can say that he was able to step into the ring against me. That he will be the man who can say he was my first victim within the halls of the IIW, because that is exactly what he is to me. A victim. A man who is simply there to attempt and provide competition for me, as I commence my journey. As I step out into the ocean and have two choices.
Exhaling, he smiles and bares his teeth as he continues staring forward. A fiery passion locked within his eyes.
Justin: I can either sink or I can swim. I can either be left within the boiling water as if I was just another coffee bean, or I can rise to the top like the cream. I know which one Ryan hopes that I do. I know which one people have assumed I'll do, judging by what others who have come before me have done, but what they seem not to understand is that I am not them. I'm not the sort of person who simply sits here, tells you a few things then walks away at the first sign of adversity. I'm not the sort of person who believes that everything should or will go my way from day one, just because of who I am. Nor do I want opponents to be afraid of me.
Pursing his lips, he nods. His eyes widening whilst he can feel the flame still flickering within them.
Justin: As I have said before, if that is what I wanted, I would have stayed home. I would have been content with ruling the dojo. I would have remained within my bubble, but that's not what I wanted, nor is it what I need. [[He shakes his head]]. No, every bit of success. Every victory I claim here. Every title I end up placing across my shoulders will be because I worked for it. It will be because each and every night, I entered the ring and I proved that whoever was in front of me. Whoever it was that happened to believe they could stop me. Or that they could force me to reconsider my decision to take this route, realizing that they are merely just going to be another victim. Another name for me to add to the list of those who simply cannot compare between those ropes.
Curling his lips upwards, he slightly leans back, allowing the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling to shine into his eyes, causing them to softly shimmer.
Justin: It won't matter to me who you are. Whether you're some celebrity around the blocks or just a plucky upstart looking to make their name at my expense, because it will be the same outcome no matter what. It will be your chance to acquire a learning experience like none other, before you have no other choice but to admit that I ain't just another man. That I'm not just somebody who does this because he can. Or because he might be leveraging this for future opportunities, but because he knows that this is where he needs to be. That this is the path that he has chosen for himself, regardless of any little purity test some people might have.
Chuckling, he slides himself further back on the couch.
Justin: Isn't that right, Ryan? That's what you were talking about with Michael Morrison? How I don't pass your "purity test"? I couldn't care any less if I do or don't, Ryan. All I care about is making sure that you are the example shown. That what I do to you, is the first thing people think of when they think of me, because it is a sign. It will be a demonstration of what will happen to them, should they find themselves in your position. Don't worry though, the exact same happened to those in the dojo. Every time they stepped onto the mat against me, whether it was sparring or competition, they were left crying on the mat. Left there staring directly into the lights and with the understanding that they had fucked up. That they had made their own bed the minute they chose me as their opponent. The moment that they, just as you will, stared into my eyes and saw the intensity that resides within me. Felt the fire that I have burning inside, bottled up and waiting for somebody to unscrew the lid.
Extending his right hand out, he bends his fingers as if he is holding a cup, before pretending to unscrew a lid with his left. Even making a hissing sound as he does to portray the air escaping from the top and into the world.
Justin: When they do, I come to life. Unleashing it all on them and ensuring that once I am done, not even their parents will recognize them. They'll take one look, then glance across to the doctor, tears in their eyes and say "that's not my child" for all that will be in front of them is a battered and broken face, blood flowing free on the mouth. A far cry from the facial features that they are accustomed to, and being "pure" won't save you from that. Being "pure" isn't going to help you when you're being carted away on a stretcher, the EMT's trying to resuscitate your heart. Nor will it help you when the only thing that you can smell for the next week is smelling salts, such will be the state of your airways, Ryan.
Rising upward, Justin extends his hands. His gaze still focused ahead as he curled his mouth back into a stoic position.
Justin: I don't tell you this to scare you. Or to try and get you to stay away from the ring. I'm not giving you this notice so that you can state that you don't want to be at "Red Alert" or that I am dangerous to be in the ring against. I tell you this to prepare you for what is about to happen. I tell you this so that you can be ready for when the time comes and everything that I have stated will happen, turns out to be the truth. I tell you this so that you can embrace it. Wear it as your badge of honor and a reminder that this match was just me proving myself. That this was only my first step toward taking over the IIW. That you are just the first to learn what I am all about.
Calmly beginning to walk off, Justin turns his head over his right shoulder, lowering his voice into a whisper.
Justin: Trust me... it'll be a night you won't forget.
The scene fades as he turns his head once more, heading off to continue unpacking his belongings.
The following day, the scene opens to Wythenshawe Park, where Justin, attired in a black/purple Nike hooded Jacket [[hood up]], black Nike tracksuit pants and black/wine Nike sneakers, seated atop an oak bench. His eyes quickly darted left and right, catching a glimpse of small groups of about three to five children on each side of the park, appearing to be between seven to twelve years of age, kicking around a soccer ball. Similar to what he and the other children in the neighborhood would do when playing basketball while he was growing up. His eyes continue to dart left and right, as he tilts his head from side to side, making it apparent that he is waiting for something or someone to meet him here. Wrinkles begin to appear between his eyes, he continues scanning around before reaching into the right hand side pocket of his jacket and pulling out his phone, lifting it to eye level so that he can check his messages. Presently, he has four unread, two from Lauren.
One from Lucy.
And one from an unknown number, which causes Justin to raise his eyebrows, a slight smile appearing across his face. This appears to be the message that he had been waiting for. It is also the most recent message that appeared on his phone, having only been sent five minutes ago.
Justin simply nods as he reads through the message, clicking the "back" button on his phone, then clicking on the messages sent by Lauren. A gentle laughter leaves his lips as he does, seeing as he knew Lauren was obsessed with how she can relate even the smallest of things to something else. In this case, the sunglasses to him. Lowering his hands slightly, he prepares to type out a response.
Pressing back once again, he then opens the messages with Lucy, and just as he had before, he prepares to type out a response.
He then closes the messages application before placing the phone back into his pocket and looking forward once more. This time simply holding his gaze directly forward even as the children continue to chatter and play around him. Pursing his lips, he lets out a pointed breath as smoke escapes from his mouth.
Justin: It's only a matter of time now... Until they understand. Until they see that this means more to me than anything else. That making sure that I am known as the best, is all that is on my mind when it comes to stepping between the ropes.
Hunching forward, his gaze is one that could cut through butter, before he clasps his hands together and places them between his thighs. The frown still etched across his face.
Justin: For it's not a matter of "if" it will happen, but "when". It's an inevitability that people will understand there isn't a single soul that can touch me in this craft. It doesn't matter what credentials you might have, or if you are a legend within this industry, you will ultimately fall when you set foot into the ring and have no choice but to face me. This isn't me trying to play mind games with you, this is me telling you the truth.
Just as he finishes stating those words, a man who appears to be in his mid to late twenties casually makes his way down the concrete path to his left and into Justin's line of sight. Attired in a charcoal gray t-shirt, jeans and black/gray Adidas sneakers, the man has his chocolate brown hair slicked back and looks as if he is one of the car salesmen sort of people Justin recalls seeing on advertisements whenever he paid attention to what was on the TV. Though Justin simply smiles when the man stops walking and stands about four feet away from him.
Justin: Hey, Chris? Right?
The man nods to affirm Justin has the correct name.
Justin: Glad you could make it. I sent you an email yesterday about possibly being able to use your gym.
Nodding again, the man's eyes widen as he listens intently to what Justin is saying.
Chris: Yeah. That's why I wanted to meet with you today.
Justin simply laughs, his eyebrows raised.
Justin: Figured it was. Everything good on your end?
His jaw beginning to clench, Chris can feel the skin around his eyes beginning to bunch together as he attempts to conjure up an answer. The messages he exchanged with the fellow owners of the gym still radiated within his mind.
Chris: For the most part... Yes. There's still a few hurdles with classes we need to jump through, but the times you sent us are mostly available.
Justin: Alright. Just wanted to be sure, because I've already got two sessions I want to get in before "Red Alert".
It is then that Chris lets out a gentle sigh. He hadn't expected that Justin would want to move this quickly in terms of being able to access the gym. In fact, they had gone off the knowledge that he would only start needing it from next Mayhem onward.
Chris: Uh...
Eyebrows still raised, Justin shoots him a look.
Justin: Is that good for you?
Chris: We... hadn't actually taken that into consideration admittedly, but I'll see what I can do for you. It should be fine, but I know we have a few taekwondo classes the rest of the week. What times were you thinking of coming in?
Justin then lets out a gentle "hm" as he attempts to remember the times he had written into his planner, which he left back at the apartment. He hadn't expected to need it during this meeting, due to it being more informal than most.
Justin: Friday at nine thirty PM and Saturday at eleven AM.
Chris gently smiles.
Chris: Yeah, those should be fine. I'll check when I get back to the office, but assume they are. I'll ring you if anything changes though.
Justin simply smirks as Chris turns to head back toward his car.
Justin: Alright. You have my number and I'll be there on Friday night unless anything changes. Thanks again.
Chris: No problems. See you then.
Chris then walks off as Justin remains sitting there, having finalized his training plans for the match. Softening his expression, he lets out a relaxed sigh as he continues looking out at the park as the scene fades.
Four days later, the scene opens once more inside of Justin's apartment. Only this time there is more than just the couch seen previously within the loungeroom. That couch is to the right of a charcoal gray three seat sofa, which Justin, attired in a red Nike t-shirt, jeans and white/gold Nike sneakers is now sitting atop, his right leg elevated and positioned across his right knee.
Justin: This isn't about Ryan McCann. This isn't even about the IIW or making my statement of intent. This match isn't just about me brutalizing and battering him, as much as he might wish to believe that this match is about proving his legend status to me. No, this match runs deeper. This match is about more than just the two of us going head to head. The two of us attempting to showcase just where we stand within this industry.
Justin shakes his head, his eyes narrow and focused on the Television screen [[currently turned off]] that is ahead of him.
Justin: If that is what he wishes to make it out to be, then go ahead. Make this about your own status and proving that you are "pure wrestling". Make this your way of showing that you wish to be known as the top tier name you supposedly are, and I'll go about dismantling you. I'll go out there and make this about ensuring that people know that if you cross me. If you find yourself having to stand across from that ring with me looking deep into your eyes, then it will only be a matter of time before you fall. For me, it's not simply about leaving a first impression you'll remember, it's about ensuring when you look back once this is all said and done. When you reflect back when I ride off into the sunset many years from you, you realize that the dominance I shall have. The reign of conquering I did, all started here.
He chuckles, leaning his head back slightly.
Justin: That "Red Alert" wasn't just the beginning, but it was the changing of the guard. It was when you got to see the man who would rule the roost, ply his trade for the first time. It was where you learned that I am not just another man. I'm not just another wrestler who writes checks his ass can't cash, but that I am the genuine article. That everything I tell you, is merely the truth. That whilst some people might wish for you to believe they are the best. Or might wish to create a bond that affiliates themselves with those around them, all that I've ever needed. All that I will ever need is myself, and that is what makes me the most dangerous person you'll ever meet.
His glare begins to give off the appearance of shooting metaphorical daggers as he remains cold. Emotionless with each word that leaves his mouth.
Justin: See, I ain't the type of person who sees the need for a pack. Nor am I the sort of person who hunts with others to try and make himself out to be more threatening like many others in this industry. Everything I do, I do alone and I do it because it is what I wish to do. This isn't about following orders to me, this is about me and me alone. Ryan, I'm sure you feel the same way, as after all, why else would you parade yourself as being the best technical wrestler if you didn't? What would it mean, if you were merely following somebody else's guide?
Pausing, he purses his lips before hunching forward.
Justin: It would simply mean you have been lying, and luckily nobody has called you out on it, at least yet. I am, Ryan. I'm calling you out and telling you that come "Red Alert", I'm going to expose you. I am going to show you that your little "test" is nothing more than a sham, designed to enable you the opportunity. The means to not have to admit that you are slowly but surely being out of place... a feeling that I know lingers inside of you.
He then raises his left hand toward his jaw, gently stroking it before preparing to continue his discourse.
Justin: You make it obvious with the way my mere existence has caused you to panic. Forced you to raise your shields and attempt to tell yourself that it will be okay. That this young child cannot supersede you. That he should be "honored" to be stepping into the ring against you. Yet I'm not. I don't see this as a privilege, or something that carries any honor whatsoever, Ryan. Don't think that this means I see you as garbage though, because to put it simply: I don't see stepping into the ring with anybody as an honor. I see it simply as a means to further my own goals. I see it as another opponent. Another person who will soon become nothing more than a statistic. A victim at my hands.
He softly laughs, continuing to gently stroke his jawline.
Justin: Don't worry though. I've been hitting the gym. Training and making sure that when "Red Alert" comes, you get the best me. You get the me that will do everything I have told you I will, and then some. So, I want you to bring your best. I want to see what you're all about, because I will be showing you what I'm all about. I just hope everybody else is watching closely, because their time will come soon enough, and they shall be joining you as carcasses laying at my feet.
He then rises, beginning to leave the lounge room as the scene fades.
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