Post by Jaice Wilds on Dec 10, 2023 13:55:25 GMT -5
The scene cuts in on Jaice Wilds and his legal counsel, H. Brayden Sullivan. They sit in what appears to be some form of white room, discussing matters.
I'm just saying, Mr Wilds; you were just slammed through no less than 2 surfaces by a man three times your size. If the doctor says you aren't ready…
I'm fine, Huntley. Just some bruises. Hell, I'd be back in the weight room already if Aaron hadn't flown out and guilted me into this pointless check-up.
And if you took your health half as seriously as Mr Kalis is, you'd…
Sullivan is cut off as a doctor enters the room, shaking his head as he looks at a clipboard. He looks to Wilds, somber.
Mr Wilds, I hate to tell…
All due respect, doc; just tell my lawyer here that I can jump back in the weight room. I've got a date with a giant that I need to prep for.
The doctor pulls a small remote from his jacket pocket, clicking a button. The lights dim a bit as a series of x-rays are sprawled across the walls.
Sir, I don't think you understand. Your injuries are…
Omigawd. Look, am I going to need a shot or can I just pop a couple of ibuprofen and get moving? Honestly.
The doctor looks at him with concern, walking over to the x-rays.
Mr Wilds. You have a concussion, four cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, internal bruising on multiple parts of your person, and dislocations in your left shoulder and right hip. And that's just the list of your latest injuries.
So… shot or ibuprofen?
The doctor sighs, shaking his head. He walks slowly up to Jaice.
Mr Montez, allow me to express the gravity of your situation. If you weren't an athlete, I would assume you got these injuries in an industrial accident. I would thusly urge you to check your 401K and pursue workman's compensation immediately. If you were anyone else in your line of work, I would recommend no less than surgery and twelve to eighteen months of rehabilitation. And even in that scenario, I would lean towards a desk job for the foreseeable future. The fact that you're able to stand right now is, in all honesty, a medical marvel; and my only means of resolving that is to assume the years of physical pain and trauma has helped you build an ungodly tolerance level for pain.
Jaice looks on, irritated. He sighs, seemingly knowing the answer he's going to get before he's even asked the question.
So we're talking, what? A week or tw…
I'm not clearing you to wrestle for the rest of 2023. Probably not even for most of 2024. And any legitimate doctor who wants to keep his license is going to tell you much different.
The doctor turns, heading for the door. Jaice starts to huff in a mix of anger and sorrow, staring at the pictures around him. The doctor stops at the door, turning back for a moment.
I'm truly, truly sorry.
The doctor exits the room, closing the door behind him. Wilds stands, walking up to the x-rays on the wall and breathing heavily. His eyes narrow as he swings back, balling his hand into a fist and punching a hole in the wall. He lowers his head until he hears Sullivan behind him.
Yes, can you connect me to Mr Bolt? This is H Brayden Sull…
Hang up.
But I…
I said. HANG. UP.
Sully does as he's told, looking puzzled at Wilds.
We should probably let Mr Bolt know what's going on so that…
Wilds cuts him off, shaking his head. He pulls out his own cell phone, breathing deeply.
I'm going to make a quick call. Then, and only then, do you call Brady and negotiate the terms of a Hold Harmless Agreement.
Jaice, I can't…
I'm not letting them win. I'm not going out… like this.
Fade To Static…
—------------
The following is a letter addressed and published to the Action Wrestling website.
I make no excuses. I have only myself to blame.
I got cocky. I let my anger blind me. And Roman Gunn proved smart enough to take advantage of the situation. And for that, I have nothing but respect for the Unified Omega Champion. Not much… but enough. My sincerest congratulations on your victory… now don't go squandering that victory before you've had a chance to celebrate.
As it stands, I'm in no position to argue for a rematch. My physical condition aside, I have other priorities to deal with first. And that begins with a thorn that's been stuck in my side since my abrupt ascension to the Clash roster.
I have to be honest, Raja; you caught me off guard. I had assumed after I lost that title match, your focus would have shifted away from me. But there I was, dejected in my locker room, when you pulled up with your yes men and your giant. Truth be told, a lot of men have tried and failed to put me down. And many have done a decent bit of damage; but this is the first time I've had a medical professional afraid for my safety. Admirable, really. But as the man said in Infinity War:
You should've gone for the head.
As I said, greater men than you have tried and failed to end my career. And like your predecessors, you've made the greatest mistake of your life: choosing me as your adversary.
I could give you a list of names. But seeing as half of those names are retired, a few have died, and only one or two have had anything resembling relevancy in the last few years… it would be a fruitless endeavor in your education. What I will do instead is educate you as to how I made these people regret their decisions.
I put one in a coffin and nailed it shut. And then put a few extras near the middle just for good measure.
I attacked another one from the rafters with barbed wire wrapped around my shins. And I later put him in a wheelchair for the better part of a year.
Another one lost sight in one eye after I damn near kicked his head in.
Yet another was broken to the point of retiring at my hand.
And then- of course- there's the match that named me Emperor of Hell Dorado.
I hurt people, Raja. Not because I want to, not because I need to. I hurt people because that's the kind of person I am. Homicidal, suicidal… I will destroy myself before I let anyone forget who the fuck they chose to get involved with. And if I'm willing to put my own body at risk, what in the blue hell do you think I'm willing to do to my adversaries?
I'll go through the Keer Twins this week, Raja. And after I put them down like the dogs that they are, I will be the predator to seek out and decimate your giant. And when I've obliterated all the walls you put up to protect yourself, I am coming for you once again.
Just like the CBS Championship, you were never on my radar. I came to Clash to deal with that loudmouthJoey Scala, and somehow you got caught in the crossfire. And back then, I gave you an out. But once again, you've decided to make this personal. Once again, you have blurred the lines between business and pleasure. So I'm going to oblige your little misstep. I'm going to jump through whatever hoops it takes to kick your ass into oblivion.
But this time, it won't be for a wrestling championship.
It won't before some accolade that you have waiting for me.
Once I've dispatched of your puppets and your beast, I am coming to your doorstep.
I am reaching into your pocket.
And I am taking
Tripura.
Watch closely this week, Raja. I want you to have a front row seat to the nightmare that you have signed on for. I'll try to let your lap dogs walk away of their own volition.
—-----------------
A small room. Several machines are beeping and whirring, a red light blinking intermittently. Jaice looks up to a doctor in a blue lab coat.
Nice. So I'm good to go, then?
The doctor, who looks little older than a high school graduate, fixes his glasses and checks a monitor.
As I told Mr Kalis, this isn't an instant fix. Everything we're doing with this medicine and technology is highly experimental, and so far we haven't tested it beyond the scope of basic human living conditions. It should help you heal more quickly; but in my professional opinion, you should still take at least three to six months off to see how your body acclimates to…
Jaice shakes his head.
So. I'm. Good. Right?
The doctor sighs.
In the sense that we've done everything in our power that we are able to do for you… yes, you're good. BUT…
Jaice jumps up, heading for the door. He stops to grab his faded jean vest, a grin across his face.
Good enough for me!! Thanks again, doc!!
...you should really take it easy for… oh, he wasn't listening in the first place…
Wilds arrives to his car in the parking lot, pulling out his cell phone.
Sully. Get the HHA. Yeah, surgeries went fine, and I should be ready to go by Saturday. They said… don't worry about what they said. I'm patched up enough to go. No, I didn't… ugh. They said, and I quote, they've done everything in their power that they are able to do. End quote. Goddammit, Sully! Either get it done or I'll find someone else to represent me!! THANK YOU. For fuck's sake…
—---------------
The following is a letter addressed and published to the Action Wrestling website.
Hey there, Keer Twerps. I'm assuming you're going to read this; as despite needing Raja’s permission to breathe or wipe your asses, he doesn't strike me as the kind who can actually read.
So I'm going to make this short, sweet and simple for you both.
Your boss has chosen a very dangerous foe. He has started down the most perilous of pathways. And in the process, he has enlisted you two to do some of the dirty work so his hands don't have to push as hard.
I see you for what you are. Pawns in a greater game of chess. And I admire how well you play your parts: it's adorable the way you willingly throw yourselves to the lions to appease your master.
But while you're mere chess pieces in his game, you're going to be victims this week.
Victims of his judgment errors.
Victims of his egotistical whims.
Victims of his selfish mannerisms.
And when I put you both in a position to be aiding his reign from a hospital bed, I want you to remember one very important lesson.
I didn't put you in harm's way.
You didn't volunteer to be training dummies.
Raja put you in those hospital beds. To further his own means.
See you Monday, boys. It's going to be fun… for me.
I'm just saying, Mr Wilds; you were just slammed through no less than 2 surfaces by a man three times your size. If the doctor says you aren't ready…
I'm fine, Huntley. Just some bruises. Hell, I'd be back in the weight room already if Aaron hadn't flown out and guilted me into this pointless check-up.
And if you took your health half as seriously as Mr Kalis is, you'd…
Sullivan is cut off as a doctor enters the room, shaking his head as he looks at a clipboard. He looks to Wilds, somber.
Mr Wilds, I hate to tell…
All due respect, doc; just tell my lawyer here that I can jump back in the weight room. I've got a date with a giant that I need to prep for.
The doctor pulls a small remote from his jacket pocket, clicking a button. The lights dim a bit as a series of x-rays are sprawled across the walls.
Sir, I don't think you understand. Your injuries are…
Omigawd. Look, am I going to need a shot or can I just pop a couple of ibuprofen and get moving? Honestly.
The doctor looks at him with concern, walking over to the x-rays.
Mr Wilds. You have a concussion, four cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, internal bruising on multiple parts of your person, and dislocations in your left shoulder and right hip. And that's just the list of your latest injuries.
So… shot or ibuprofen?
The doctor sighs, shaking his head. He walks slowly up to Jaice.
Mr Montez, allow me to express the gravity of your situation. If you weren't an athlete, I would assume you got these injuries in an industrial accident. I would thusly urge you to check your 401K and pursue workman's compensation immediately. If you were anyone else in your line of work, I would recommend no less than surgery and twelve to eighteen months of rehabilitation. And even in that scenario, I would lean towards a desk job for the foreseeable future. The fact that you're able to stand right now is, in all honesty, a medical marvel; and my only means of resolving that is to assume the years of physical pain and trauma has helped you build an ungodly tolerance level for pain.
Jaice looks on, irritated. He sighs, seemingly knowing the answer he's going to get before he's even asked the question.
So we're talking, what? A week or tw…
I'm not clearing you to wrestle for the rest of 2023. Probably not even for most of 2024. And any legitimate doctor who wants to keep his license is going to tell you much different.
The doctor turns, heading for the door. Jaice starts to huff in a mix of anger and sorrow, staring at the pictures around him. The doctor stops at the door, turning back for a moment.
I'm truly, truly sorry.
The doctor exits the room, closing the door behind him. Wilds stands, walking up to the x-rays on the wall and breathing heavily. His eyes narrow as he swings back, balling his hand into a fist and punching a hole in the wall. He lowers his head until he hears Sullivan behind him.
Yes, can you connect me to Mr Bolt? This is H Brayden Sull…
Hang up.
But I…
I said. HANG. UP.
Sully does as he's told, looking puzzled at Wilds.
We should probably let Mr Bolt know what's going on so that…
Wilds cuts him off, shaking his head. He pulls out his own cell phone, breathing deeply.
I'm going to make a quick call. Then, and only then, do you call Brady and negotiate the terms of a Hold Harmless Agreement.
Jaice, I can't…
I'm not letting them win. I'm not going out… like this.
Fade To Static…
—------------
The following is a letter addressed and published to the Action Wrestling website.
I make no excuses. I have only myself to blame.
I got cocky. I let my anger blind me. And Roman Gunn proved smart enough to take advantage of the situation. And for that, I have nothing but respect for the Unified Omega Champion. Not much… but enough. My sincerest congratulations on your victory… now don't go squandering that victory before you've had a chance to celebrate.
As it stands, I'm in no position to argue for a rematch. My physical condition aside, I have other priorities to deal with first. And that begins with a thorn that's been stuck in my side since my abrupt ascension to the Clash roster.
I have to be honest, Raja; you caught me off guard. I had assumed after I lost that title match, your focus would have shifted away from me. But there I was, dejected in my locker room, when you pulled up with your yes men and your giant. Truth be told, a lot of men have tried and failed to put me down. And many have done a decent bit of damage; but this is the first time I've had a medical professional afraid for my safety. Admirable, really. But as the man said in Infinity War:
You should've gone for the head.
As I said, greater men than you have tried and failed to end my career. And like your predecessors, you've made the greatest mistake of your life: choosing me as your adversary.
I could give you a list of names. But seeing as half of those names are retired, a few have died, and only one or two have had anything resembling relevancy in the last few years… it would be a fruitless endeavor in your education. What I will do instead is educate you as to how I made these people regret their decisions.
I put one in a coffin and nailed it shut. And then put a few extras near the middle just for good measure.
I attacked another one from the rafters with barbed wire wrapped around my shins. And I later put him in a wheelchair for the better part of a year.
Another one lost sight in one eye after I damn near kicked his head in.
Yet another was broken to the point of retiring at my hand.
And then- of course- there's the match that named me Emperor of Hell Dorado.
I hurt people, Raja. Not because I want to, not because I need to. I hurt people because that's the kind of person I am. Homicidal, suicidal… I will destroy myself before I let anyone forget who the fuck they chose to get involved with. And if I'm willing to put my own body at risk, what in the blue hell do you think I'm willing to do to my adversaries?
I'll go through the Keer Twins this week, Raja. And after I put them down like the dogs that they are, I will be the predator to seek out and decimate your giant. And when I've obliterated all the walls you put up to protect yourself, I am coming for you once again.
Just like the CBS Championship, you were never on my radar. I came to Clash to deal with that loudmouthJoey Scala, and somehow you got caught in the crossfire. And back then, I gave you an out. But once again, you've decided to make this personal. Once again, you have blurred the lines between business and pleasure. So I'm going to oblige your little misstep. I'm going to jump through whatever hoops it takes to kick your ass into oblivion.
But this time, it won't be for a wrestling championship.
It won't before some accolade that you have waiting for me.
Once I've dispatched of your puppets and your beast, I am coming to your doorstep.
I am reaching into your pocket.
And I am taking
Tripura.
Watch closely this week, Raja. I want you to have a front row seat to the nightmare that you have signed on for. I'll try to let your lap dogs walk away of their own volition.
—-----------------
A small room. Several machines are beeping and whirring, a red light blinking intermittently. Jaice looks up to a doctor in a blue lab coat.
Nice. So I'm good to go, then?
The doctor, who looks little older than a high school graduate, fixes his glasses and checks a monitor.
As I told Mr Kalis, this isn't an instant fix. Everything we're doing with this medicine and technology is highly experimental, and so far we haven't tested it beyond the scope of basic human living conditions. It should help you heal more quickly; but in my professional opinion, you should still take at least three to six months off to see how your body acclimates to…
Jaice shakes his head.
So. I'm. Good. Right?
The doctor sighs.
In the sense that we've done everything in our power that we are able to do for you… yes, you're good. BUT…
Jaice jumps up, heading for the door. He stops to grab his faded jean vest, a grin across his face.
Good enough for me!! Thanks again, doc!!
...you should really take it easy for… oh, he wasn't listening in the first place…
Wilds arrives to his car in the parking lot, pulling out his cell phone.
Sully. Get the HHA. Yeah, surgeries went fine, and I should be ready to go by Saturday. They said… don't worry about what they said. I'm patched up enough to go. No, I didn't… ugh. They said, and I quote, they've done everything in their power that they are able to do. End quote. Goddammit, Sully! Either get it done or I'll find someone else to represent me!! THANK YOU. For fuck's sake…
—---------------
The following is a letter addressed and published to the Action Wrestling website.
Hey there, Keer Twerps. I'm assuming you're going to read this; as despite needing Raja’s permission to breathe or wipe your asses, he doesn't strike me as the kind who can actually read.
So I'm going to make this short, sweet and simple for you both.
Your boss has chosen a very dangerous foe. He has started down the most perilous of pathways. And in the process, he has enlisted you two to do some of the dirty work so his hands don't have to push as hard.
I see you for what you are. Pawns in a greater game of chess. And I admire how well you play your parts: it's adorable the way you willingly throw yourselves to the lions to appease your master.
But while you're mere chess pieces in his game, you're going to be victims this week.
Victims of his judgment errors.
Victims of his egotistical whims.
Victims of his selfish mannerisms.
And when I put you both in a position to be aiding his reign from a hospital bed, I want you to remember one very important lesson.
I didn't put you in harm's way.
You didn't volunteer to be training dummies.
Raja put you in those hospital beds. To further his own means.
See you Monday, boys. It's going to be fun… for me.