What is your purpose, John?
Jan 6, 2023 8:51:29 GMT -5
Hot Shot Wayne Austin, Carter Shaw, and 4 more like this
Post by Henry Lancaster on Jan 6, 2023 8:51:29 GMT -5
What is your purpose, John?
A brisk winter’s morning on the sandy banks of the Kings River. A father had taken his two sons out for a walk.
The youngest of the two boys struggled to keep up with his father and brother; his young legs were weighted down by his boots which were frequently sucked into the wet sand. Suddenly, his left boot became stuck in the sinking sand, he lost his balance and fell forward, letting out a cry before his face was plunged into the wet sand. Quickly lifting his face, he spat out a mouthful of wet sand before calling out.
“Father! Help me!”
But his father hadn’t immediately noticed, he was too distracted with his conversation with his older son, his heir.
The youngest of the two boys struggled to keep up with his father and brother; his young legs were weighted down by his boots which were frequently sucked into the wet sand. Suddenly, his left boot became stuck in the sinking sand, he lost his balance and fell forward, letting out a cry before his face was plunged into the wet sand. Quickly lifting his face, he spat out a mouthful of wet sand before calling out.
“Father! Help me!”
But his father hadn’t immediately noticed, he was too distracted with his conversation with his older son, his heir.
On Monday I ride into battle against Mr Underground
Lancaster stares into the night as he takes in a large inhalation of the cold winter’s air. He listens to the running water of the river whilst he is deep in thought.
The time has finally come for the world to see The Golden Lion step inside the squared circle. The British public has an ill-conceived view of who they think I am. A white, privileged member of high society, who has never had to work a day in his life, who’s been given everything he owns, born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
That, quite frankly, couldn’t be further from the truth. The spoon was in my brother’s mouth. The title, the money, the land; it was all meant to be his.
I was an afterthought, the second son, promised nothing, yet I’ve now taken everything. When a lion is outcast from its pride, when it is desperate and hungry, it will do whatever it takes to survive.
I’ve gone from being a young boy ripped from his mother’s arms and shipped off to boarding school, to now standing here as the ruler of this land, one of the most powerful and influential men in the United Kingdom.
Life had no purpose for me, no destiny.
So I grabbed my brother’s destiny with two hands.
Summertime, a family picnic along the river bank. Security had cleared the area of the public; the 19th Marquess of Wessex wanted his family not to be pestered today.
The younger son sat amongst some long grass as he watched his father and older brother stand side-by-side as they fished together in the river.
“One day son, all this will be yours”.
The younger son heard those words leave his father’s mouth, once again as he was reminded of his older brother’s birthright. A cold, hard reminder that, in his mind, he was not as loved as his brother. He noticed a jagged-edged rock laying amongst the grass. The young boy reached for it and secured it in his right hand. For a moment, he fantasised about throwing it at his brother, but then his father turned around and smiled, and he immediately released the rock.
The younger son sat amongst some long grass as he watched his father and older brother stand side-by-side as they fished together in the river.
“One day son, all this will be yours”.
The younger son heard those words leave his father’s mouth, once again as he was reminded of his older brother’s birthright. A cold, hard reminder that, in his mind, he was not as loved as his brother. He noticed a jagged-edged rock laying amongst the grass. The young boy reached for it and secured it in his right hand. For a moment, he fantasised about throwing it at his brother, but then his father turned around and smiled, and he immediately released the rock.
Lancaster pulls back the sleeve of his expensive winter coat, revealing an even more expensive Rolex watch.
It’s nearly time for me to leave; the private jet is scheduled to depart.
Although California is thousands of miles away from my kingdom, it will be the first time the world will truly see how I earned my nickname and my title. The same way my ancestors claimed this sacred region for themselves.
For John Black, it’s an opportunity, perhaps his final one, to get his career up and running in Action Wrestling.
What is it now John? Your third attempt at making a go of this? It’s time to come to terms with the realisation that you just don’t have what it takes to make it in this business.
If others heard my thoughts, they’d think maybe it was a sign of overconfidence on my part stating that a former Television Champion is far inferior to a man who hasn’t yet made his debut.
He sniggers to himself as he looks down to the floor, running his boot along the ground.
That John is a killer instinct, and sheer bloody determination to succeed in life, no matter the cost. I know that we come from very different backgrounds; an African-American from the drug-fueled complexes of backstreet Baltimore, and a white British businessman from a wealthy family and this incredible land. Your upbringing should have forged you into a survivor, a fighter. But no, it has left you broken, blunted - a sword unable to make a killing blow.
I, on the other hand, despite the privileges afforded to myself, have had to scratch and claw, to spill blood. Where the majority of people will see only a suit, a Marquess - they are about to see the weapon who claimed these lands for his own.
Winter soon returned and the father again took his two sons out for a morning walk along the sandy banks whilst on his phone discussing family business. The older son brought his new metal detector; a recent Christmas present, out to see what treasures he could find.
After canvasing the sand for what seemed like an eternity, the metal detector began to let off a sharp beeping tone. The boy dropped to his knees with excitement and began digging the sand with his trowel. Soon, he unearthed an old coin. He wiped off the sand using the sleeve of his fleece and held it high in the morning sky to examine it.
The younger brother had watched from afar, and snuck up on the boy, snatching the coin from his hand.
“No Henry! That is mine!”
Henry ignored his brother’s plea and began to run away whilst examining the coin himself.
“HENRY! GIVE IT BACK!”
The desperate plea was again ignored. Henry was mesmerised by the coin, so mesmerised that he failed to defend himself as he was tackled from behind by his older brother. Losing his footing, Henry fell face-first into the sand. Their father, noticing the commotion, hung up his call and ran over to separate his sons.
“What on earth is going on?”
Henry, still clutching the coin, pulled his face from the sand; a mixture of sand and blood, from the cheek he bit into on impact, had accumulated in his mouth and he spat out the contents onto the floor. As he began to gather his bearings and clamber back up to his feet, he heard his brother recite the incident to his father. After his eldest son finished explaining the situation, the father turned to his youngest.
“Return your brother’s property to him now, Henry!”
The younger brother was consumed with anger, by jealousy. He contemplated throwing the coin into the Kings River, but he still wanted it for himself. Instead, he conceded and tossed the coin towards his brothers’ feet.
He stood gingerly as his father approached him, taking a handkerchief out from his back pocket, wiping the blood from his youngest son’s mouth. Yet Henry did not break his gaze away from his brother, who picked up the coin. He was already planning in his head how he would regain it from him.
After canvasing the sand for what seemed like an eternity, the metal detector began to let off a sharp beeping tone. The boy dropped to his knees with excitement and began digging the sand with his trowel. Soon, he unearthed an old coin. He wiped off the sand using the sleeve of his fleece and held it high in the morning sky to examine it.
The younger brother had watched from afar, and snuck up on the boy, snatching the coin from his hand.
“No Henry! That is mine!”
Henry ignored his brother’s plea and began to run away whilst examining the coin himself.
“HENRY! GIVE IT BACK!”
The desperate plea was again ignored. Henry was mesmerised by the coin, so mesmerised that he failed to defend himself as he was tackled from behind by his older brother. Losing his footing, Henry fell face-first into the sand. Their father, noticing the commotion, hung up his call and ran over to separate his sons.
“What on earth is going on?”
Henry, still clutching the coin, pulled his face from the sand; a mixture of sand and blood, from the cheek he bit into on impact, had accumulated in his mouth and he spat out the contents onto the floor. As he began to gather his bearings and clamber back up to his feet, he heard his brother recite the incident to his father. After his eldest son finished explaining the situation, the father turned to his youngest.
“Return your brother’s property to him now, Henry!”
The younger brother was consumed with anger, by jealousy. He contemplated throwing the coin into the Kings River, but he still wanted it for himself. Instead, he conceded and tossed the coin towards his brothers’ feet.
He stood gingerly as his father approached him, taking a handkerchief out from his back pocket, wiping the blood from his youngest son’s mouth. Yet Henry did not break his gaze away from his brother, who picked up the coin. He was already planning in his head how he would regain it from him.
John Black, it's clear now you only have one purpose in life.
What kind of man are you? Your file makes a fascinating read. I had my private investigator look you up when our match was announced.
Your parents had no purpose for you when you were born, was that why they abandoned you? Forced you to live with your aunt and uncle?
Perhaps your mother was a crack whore, like the many that have riddled your city. Maybe your father was a customer of hers who paid her so she could score her next fix, and instead, she was burdened by your existence.
Despite your rough start in life; you had the ability to lead a normal life and obtained a college degree. Yet like how many of your kind do, you’ve managed to squander your future away by getting drawn into street life - how your poor aunt must be so disappointed in you, John.
And what about your son?
Where is young JJ? John Junior, I presume? You’ve seemingly abandoned him, a second generation of your family dumping an unwanted child on poor Aunt Silvia. Is he now cruising the Baltimore streets, hustling like his father? Or was he glued to the old TV set watching his father return at Turmoil as a new man, parading his new daughter to the world?
Watching a father favour another child can be soul-destroying, and can send one’s mind to the deepest, darkest of places.
Lancaster puts his hand inside his pocket; he begins to play with something.
Relocating to Philadelphia and doing a hard reset on your life John doesn’t give you purpose. The blood of the 55th and North Street shooting remains ingrained in your hands.
Do you think adopting someone else’s daughter, someone else’s mistake - a young orphan child from your streets will give you purpose? No, it won’t - there is no amount of charity you can provide which will make up for your existence.
What will you do John when your third attempt at this career fails? Will you proceed to abandon a second child and flee to yet another city? Perhaps New York or Chicago? Maybe you’d pour out your worthless soul on another podcast with minimal listeners who when they see your name listed in the title on their download list, will swipe left and delete. Or perhaps you could unload onto another therapist? I’m sure there’s one out there who hasn’t blacklisted you.
I don’t want to blacklist you from Action Wrestling, John.
Lancaster pulls out his hand from his pocket and opens his palm, revealing the old coin Thomas had found in the sand on the banks of Kings River years earlier.
When I want something, John, when I put my mind towards something, I get what I want.
I don’t want to blacklist you from Action Wrestling because you now have one purpose in your pathetic, worthless life - to go down in the record books as the man I first defeated in my long and illustrious wrestling career. They'll show the image of myself hitting you with Praefortis before my hand is raised in victory - over and over again.
Aethelstan will display victory banners when I defeat you, images will be broadcast all around the world to serve you a reminder of how meaningless you are, that a former Television Champion could not defeat a man in his first match.
That shame will drive you into a deeper depression, no pills will dull that pain.
Attempt to write a few lines for your latest rap song, but no one will listen, no one cares about your pain and anguish.
You said it yourself at Turmoil that you’d been obsessed with winning; now you would do whatever you can for yourself. I hope for your sake, the sake of the daughter you adopted, and the sake of the son you abandoned, that you accept your purpose in life - the one I have designated for you.
Accept the beating I’ll hand you in California, then leave and never return.
That day on this shore; I swore to myself that I wouldn’t take no for an answer, I wouldn’t be beaten down again and I’d make my own destiny because no one else was going to give me a god-damn thing.
Now, this is all mine, my will remains undefeated.
Now that your purpose has been set, I wonder how your adoptive daughter will react knowing the man who saved her from the orphanage cannot provide her anything more than self-pity, or how the forgotten son will feel as he watches the man he once admired, lay under my boot.
It’s ok John Junior, I too am a forgotten son - use The Golden Lion as the role model, because your father has blacklisted you.
