Post by Jaice Wilds on Feb 19, 2023 11:45:03 GMT -5
As the screen clears in from static, we are once again inside the home of Jaice Wilds. We find our hero standing on a balcony, looking out into a wooded area. He takes a deep breath, not breaking his gaze.
How does one stop a monster? How does one take a predator and make it into prey? Simple: one takes it out of its element.
Jaice takes a moment, watching as a cardinal flies past. He exhales, shaking his head.
For almost two decades, I've redefined the art of professional wrestling. I've faced every type of opponent, every type of match, every potential scenario. I've stared mortality in the face and dared it to take me. I've built a certain level of confidence that remains unshaken regardless of the circumstances of my matches.
And yet…
For the first time in my career…
I'm unsure of myself.
Wilds shifts his gaze to the ground, a deep sigh. He takes a moment, looking up to the camera.
Don't get me wrong; I have zero trepidation over my opponent. Twenty times out of ten, I beat Lissie Hope with my eyes glued shut and one hand tied behind my back. Ms Hope doesn't phase me in the least.
My issue is with the match. Generally speaking, I have a strategy going into a match. And having worked with the Order, I've learned to have contingencies for my contingencies. But when all else fails, I'm a creature of habit. I fall back on instinct. And instinct has served me well; look at all I've accomplished in my career. All done relying on the safety net that is my most basic impulse.
Wilds sighs.
The problem is, my baser intuition relies on flying. When I'm backed into a corner, I take to the sky and fire an assault that most people aren't prepared for. Hell, the ones who are prepared for it still manage to get caught off-guard more often than not. And if that was an option, this would be a far different promotional package.
But in a pure match, the ropes are gone. There's no means for me to get airborne. My instinctual prowess is effectively torn from my arsenal, which means that I lose my most powerful moveset. And that bothers me.
It bothers me, because now I have to make damn sure I put Lissie down before I have the need to rely on it. Now, I have to find confidence that all the skills and experience I've accumulated is going to be enough to keep me from facing defeat at the hands of lesser combatants.
Wilds looks out to the woods, a deep inhale. He ponders for a moment, exhaling as he looks over to the camera.
Max Daemon and Leon Blackwell are footnotes. It doesn't matter which of them progresses; they're both last thought filler entries in this tournament.
Lissie brings a few title reigns and some decent experience with her. Which makes her a dangerous opponent to anyone else. And to the extent that my proverbial toolkit has been limited, she's going to prove decent competition for me this week.
But my greatest opponent this week? Jaice Wilds. Yes; my biggest threat this week is going to be fighting my primal instincts and depending on my underutilized skill sets. Something I feel I can do, yet a challenge nonetheless. And when the dust settles at the end of the night, the question isn't going to be whether or not the "competition" was good; but whether I was able to get out of my own damn way.
I suppose we'll find out Monday night.
Wilds nods, walking into his home. The camera focuses back on the woods, watching a squirrel scamper down a branch as we fade… to… static…
How does one stop a monster? How does one take a predator and make it into prey? Simple: one takes it out of its element.
Jaice takes a moment, watching as a cardinal flies past. He exhales, shaking his head.
For almost two decades, I've redefined the art of professional wrestling. I've faced every type of opponent, every type of match, every potential scenario. I've stared mortality in the face and dared it to take me. I've built a certain level of confidence that remains unshaken regardless of the circumstances of my matches.
And yet…
For the first time in my career…
I'm unsure of myself.
Wilds shifts his gaze to the ground, a deep sigh. He takes a moment, looking up to the camera.
Don't get me wrong; I have zero trepidation over my opponent. Twenty times out of ten, I beat Lissie Hope with my eyes glued shut and one hand tied behind my back. Ms Hope doesn't phase me in the least.
My issue is with the match. Generally speaking, I have a strategy going into a match. And having worked with the Order, I've learned to have contingencies for my contingencies. But when all else fails, I'm a creature of habit. I fall back on instinct. And instinct has served me well; look at all I've accomplished in my career. All done relying on the safety net that is my most basic impulse.
Wilds sighs.
The problem is, my baser intuition relies on flying. When I'm backed into a corner, I take to the sky and fire an assault that most people aren't prepared for. Hell, the ones who are prepared for it still manage to get caught off-guard more often than not. And if that was an option, this would be a far different promotional package.
But in a pure match, the ropes are gone. There's no means for me to get airborne. My instinctual prowess is effectively torn from my arsenal, which means that I lose my most powerful moveset. And that bothers me.
It bothers me, because now I have to make damn sure I put Lissie down before I have the need to rely on it. Now, I have to find confidence that all the skills and experience I've accumulated is going to be enough to keep me from facing defeat at the hands of lesser combatants.
Wilds looks out to the woods, a deep inhale. He ponders for a moment, exhaling as he looks over to the camera.
Max Daemon and Leon Blackwell are footnotes. It doesn't matter which of them progresses; they're both last thought filler entries in this tournament.
Lissie brings a few title reigns and some decent experience with her. Which makes her a dangerous opponent to anyone else. And to the extent that my proverbial toolkit has been limited, she's going to prove decent competition for me this week.
But my greatest opponent this week? Jaice Wilds. Yes; my biggest threat this week is going to be fighting my primal instincts and depending on my underutilized skill sets. Something I feel I can do, yet a challenge nonetheless. And when the dust settles at the end of the night, the question isn't going to be whether or not the "competition" was good; but whether I was able to get out of my own damn way.
I suppose we'll find out Monday night.
Wilds nods, walking into his home. The camera focuses back on the woods, watching a squirrel scamper down a branch as we fade… to… static…