Mourn Those That Will Fall
Sept 11, 2019 3:47:37 GMT -5
Shadowlove, Joey Flash, and 1 more like this
Post by Deleted on Sept 11, 2019 3:47:37 GMT -5
Be honest, you missed me.
The gravelly voice of Jayson Price, spoken just above a whisper, is heard as the scene slowly fades in from black. While his current location is a mystery still, it's obvious that he's far from his Philadelphia home as it appears as though he's in a forest, sitting on a log in front of a small fire under the moonlight. His hair is now a bit longer, his beard a bit more scraggly, but the eyes are the same as always, piercing straight through you. The epitome of the phrase 'grizzled veteran', a man that's fought countless battles across the globe, slowly showing the effects of war while remaining an imposing figure that commands respect rather than ask for it. As the flames crackle in front of him, he speaks.
Jayson Price: It's been four months. Four months since the last time I let a camera anywhere even near me as I tried to relax for the first time in almost ten years. Yeah, I spent time away from the ring recovering injuries and taking time off to regroup after the long grind of being on the road, but I never truly took time to simply relax and clear my mind and focus on myself and where I was at. So much time spent traveling around the world, wrestling in packed houses, putting my body on the line for the enjoyment of the fans, I truly needed to sit back and just...breathe.
Price closes his eyes and tilts his head back, letting out a loud breath.
Jayson Price: Where I've been and what I've been doing since the closing of WCF has been a subject of many a conversation, but the fact is that I simply chose to sit back and wait. While others took their talents to other companies, while some decided to start their own organizations, I chose to pick my moment just as I have my entire career. Why simply sign the first contract that was offered to me? Why put up my own money to create something from the ground up that relied solely on the work of others? No, I've made a career by making smart, calculated decisions that always had reasoning behind them, no matter how they may have come across at the time. It's how you survive in this business, something lost on the short-sighted masses. But why XIII, you might be asking yourself. Well, don't worry yourself trying to overthink it, just enjoy what's going to unfold, I promise it's going to be a hell of a ride. And that ride starts with a match against a stranger from another land, Masuda Jubei. A World Champion with an affinity for hardcore wresting as my very first opponent in a Deathmatch Tournament. Oh Corey, you fucking bastard, you never want to make it easy for me and for that I respect you. But I will not be so easily denied.
Price strokes his beard as he stares into the flames.
Jayson Price: Mister Jubei, hello. We haven't had the chance to meet before, but I've become rather invested in learning about you ahead of our match. Trying to get a feel for you, seeing what it is that makes you tick. And, uh, well I must say that I don't quite get it. Now I'm sure that the fear schtick works wonders for you around the world, obviously, it's been a fantastic weapon for you in Alpha Pro, but you're talking to the wrong man when you want to talk about collecting souls. I'm not a child reading a scary story by flashlight under a blanket, this talk of a man so terrifying that his name alone strikes fear does nothing to me. I've been in this business for what seems like forever, I'm sure you can relate, and I've traveled the world wrestling in front of fans just like yourself. This isn't my first rodeo by any means and it's hardly the first time that I've found myself about to stand across the ring from a man who considers himself to be more than just a man, but a manifestation of something else, in your case this urban legend. The man whose eyes are dark pits that suck in the joy and life of those that dare stare into them. The crooked, gnarled teeth that give off a less human and more sinister appearance. A body and hands that are worn and scarred from countless battles, every mark its own story of the pain and suffering of a victim.
Price lets out a soft chuckle as he grabs a handful of twigs from the ground and throws them onto the flames.
Jayson Price: It's an amusing tale, more vivid than the usual unimaginative picture that I'm painted, but it's really no more than that, just a tale. Fantastic marketing, I'm sure it's a huge hit amongst the youngsters in Japan looking for their own version of Bloody Mary or Slender Man to scare each other with during their sleepovers and campouts, but to think that I'll actually sit here and worry about a soul-stealing 'boogeyman' that also has a day job as a professional wrestler? Jubei, I've dealt with many things over the last decade in this business, from a clown that moonlit as a serial killer outside of the ring. To not one, but two inmates from mental asylums that were, also, probably moonlighting as serial killers away from the ring. To watching grown men literally die in and around the ring from everything like a syringe filled with bleach injected into an eyeball, to a damn chamber match specifically designed to kill as many wrestlers inside as possible. Come to think of it, the amount of death that I've seen in this business should probably be raising some red flags in a government building somewhere, but the point is that I've seen shit, real shit and not a story passed around the campfire, that would shake a man to the core.
There's a low rumble of thunder in the distance as a breeze picks up, stirring the fallen leaves on the forest floor and causing the flames to dance for the viewers.
Jayson Price: But I'm not that man. Never have been, never will be. I am unlike anything you have faced, inside or outside of a ring. I hear you talk about the blood that's been on your hands as if you're the only person that's ever beaten a man and then looked down and saw red covering your fingers and palms. It's a beautiful sight, looking down and seeing the thing that courses through every living being, keeping it alive, knowing that the person who's lost it depends on it for their very existence. And knowing that the more that you take from that man, the more that you force from his body, the closer you are to bringing their demise. It feels good, doesn't it? That feeling of power? I know who I'm speaking to Jubei, I know you know how good it feels.
Price leans back, arms crossed over his chest, a look of knowing on his face.
Jayson Price: But do you truly know who it is that you are talking to? I honestly don't feel like you do, Jubie. I feel as though you think that I'm just another dumb American wrestler who only knows how to solve things with violence and doesn't appreciate the art form that is psychological warfare. But that's where you'd be making a fatal mistake because I, more than anyone else you could have been put up against, have been through more than enough shit to see right through the smoke you're trying to pump out. I'm a mother fucking veteran of this business, with ten god damn years and hundreds of matches under my belt, so when you want to try and come at me with the Shang Tsung 'I want your soul, Jayson' routine, I'll just slap the fucking taste out of your mouth and tell you to go back to Japan, where the kiddies want to stand in front of a mirror and say your name three times as a joke. What I'm trying to say, and this is as easily as I can put it, is that I don't fear you.
Price uncrosses his arms and leans back forward, staring ahead directly at the camera, exuding confidence.
Jayson Price: I don't fear Masuda Jubei the man. I don't fear Masuda Jubei the name. I don't fear Masuda Jubei the urban legend. I don't fear you one single, solitary bit because when I look at you, I see nothing but a man. And because it's only a man that I see when I look at you, I know that I can beat you. You, the man with the aged skin and the scars littering your body from all of the matches that you've been in, are nothing but flesh that can be torn, stretched over bones that can be broken, filled with blood that can be spilled. You've given so much of yourself inside of the ring that you feel as though you can withstand anything that anyone brings your way because you're the toughest son of a bitch in the room. Maybe that's true in some of the companies you wrestled in over in Japan or over there in Alpha Pro, but the shit you've been through is the kind of shit I wish I'd only seen in my career. You're talking to a man that had his neck broken and still managed to return in a matter of months. A man that took a quadruple superkick to the skull and ended up in a coma. I have moonsaulted off of cells, competed in the most horrifying of hardcore matches and dealt with unimaginable pain, all of it while still putting together a career that's the wet dream of wrestler's from any country. Whatever you think you can bring to this match that will put me down, I'm telling you right now, unless it's a god damn gun, it won't work. This isn't a normal one on one match, it's going to be a fucking war fought with instruments of torture and pain, waged by two men hellbent on destroying the other. And I'm betting on me as being the one that's able to walk away.
Price pushes himself up off of the log and begins to circle the flames as he continues.
Jayson Price: Now don't get me wrong, I always do give credit when it's due, and you've earned some clout around the world over your time in the business, both in and out of the ring. But while you were trying to make a name in Japan, never satisfied with merely being a champion while struggling to achieve the level of greatness seen by those before you, I spent a decade building a legacy. I rose from obscurity, a rookie with no business getting a chance, to the pinnacle of our craft as I won title after title, match after match. I put my body on the line constantly to get where I am and it was all worth it because I've reached that level of immortality that most can only dream of. You, meanwhile, have done what? You spent a few years toiling in the business before moving on into the world of organized crime, then used your own money to take control of a company before running it into the ground. Then you tried to open your own company and build it from scratch, only to run your talent away with mismanagement before closing the doors. Now you're back between the ropes, having realized that you didn't have the mind required to be the guy in charge, hoping to salvage the remaining bits of your legacy in a third rate wrestling company. The Alpha Pro Wrestling World Champion, Masuda Jubei, ladies, and gentlemen. What's that? Never heard of it? That's fine, neither had I until this tournament was announced. I spent some time, looked into it and found out it's nothing more than Odin Balfore fighting the people who left WCF but weren't good enough to get a contract from Action Wrestling. And if you think that's too harsh a critique, please feel free to explain to me how you build a company around Jaice Wilds, Buzzsaw Bundy or 'Jazzy' John McCarty that won't fold. I give the fucking place another few months, tops.
Price pauses to shrug his shoulders, almost as if to mockingly give a 'sorry' to any Alpha Pro talent that may see this, before continuing to pace around the fire.
Jayson Price: But I digress. Leading this sinking ship as it's champion is you, Masuda. From running a failing company to representing a different failing company on a world stage, you're coming into XIII with the misguided dream of expanding your legacy while helping to put Alpha Pro on the map. You've got an entire company depending on you to show the world that talent exists outside of what they've been seeing on their televisions. Now I don't know why Corey Black chose you over all the other talent in the world, but he's set you up for failure and, in the process, set you up to once again disappoint those counting on you. Between myself, Beau Blaze and LA Johnny Stylez, I was the worst-case scenario for you when it came to a first-round match-up. You face Beau or Johnny, shit you may have had a chance to get to the finals, who knows. But we'll never know what it would have been like to watch Masuda Jubei battling it out with Corey Black for the AW Hardcore Title because you're not even going to survive your first match, let alone battle for the right to challenge for the belt. Forget about the fact that I can tear down every single ounce of the tiny bit of mystique you have while simultaneously shitting all over this legend of a 'soul stealer', I am going to physically dominate you from the time the bell rings to the time the referee's hand hits the mat for a three count. You might be a warrior who's spilled blood inside of the ring but I am not afraid to drive myself to near-death just to achieve what I've put my mind to. You break my arm and I'll just twist my body and bitch slap you with my limp limb. You cut me and spill my blood, I'll force your face into the puddle and watch you struggle until you drown. Do you want to beat me, Jubei? Then you need to be ready to kill me because that's the only way I can be stopped.
Price pauses and glances over at the camera.
Jayson Price: And that, Masuda, is how you give the world a tale about a man that's actually worth telling. Consider it an early birthday present. Quite possibly the last one that you'll ever be conscious enough to appreciate.
Price kicks at the ground, spraying dirt into the flames until finally they die out, plunging the forest into darkness. Illuminated by only the light from the moon and the stars above, Price begins to walk through the woods, followed closely by the cameraman.
Jayson Price: Now I'd be remiss if I didn't take a moment to consider the other two men taking part in this little tournament. Beau Bla- Oh, I'm sorry, I suppose now it's Beau Del Soul. The cowboy who showed up at high noon to defend his name and his legacy and lost it all. Well, partner, you've already lost enough, wouldn't you say? I don't believe I've ever heard about a wrestler that lost his name because he couldn't win a match. I've heard of people losing masks. I've heard about people losing hair. I've even heard about those losing their jobs because they had to leave town. But men still have faces beneath those masks, hair can be grown back and there are always other opportunities out there as long as you look. But to be put into a situation where you have to defend your name, something that you've been working to make famous and build a legacy upon, and then lose it, my oh my that's got to be a massive blow to the old ego. And I'm sure that you're going to deny it, tell the world that a name is just that and that it's the man behind the name that matters.
Price pauses to turn back and face the camera.
Jayson Price: But the problem with that is the fact that people can look at you and see someone who went into a match hellbent on keeping his name, willing to fight with everything he had, and lost. Your best just wasn't good enough. And if you were so motivated but still fell, well then how can anyone expect you to not fall again when it's something else you're motivated about? I mean obviously you can recover, win some more matches, maybe add a title here and there, but at the end of the day, the stink of that loss is going to follow you every time you sign your name for a fan or see yourself in a wrestling program for years to come. That's a tough pill to swallow.
Price turns back around and continues his trek through the woods.
Jayson Price: But fear not, Lil Beau X, I'm not going to spend all of my time simply demeaning you over one single loss, despite its significance. The simple fact is that you're going to get LA Johnny Stylez, that I can be sure of, but that's where your night of joy is going to end. Once Masuda and I get done tearing each other from limb to limb and the time comes for you and I to inevitably face off in the finals of the tournament, no matter how bloodied and battered I may be, you still aren't going to have what it takes to defeat me. You are an insignificant speck in the universe of professional wrestling, slightly above a festering boil on an ass cheek in terms of importance. I look at you and see not a roadblock on my path to the Hardcore Title, but more of a detour sign. I'm still going to get where I need to go, but I have to take a slightly more annoying and inconvenient path than I should have to. And let's be real, after the epic bloodbath that Jubei and I are going to put on, having to watch me break Beau Ray Cyrus' aching heart as I drive him headfirst through the first solid object that I can find, well it just seems like a massive downgrade in quality. And speaking of downgrades, and I know how terrible of a segway that is but I really only like to use my best when it's worth it, while you Beau might be the tiny speck and the festering boil and everything else I spoke of, for the love of God at least you're a step above the abysmal wreck that is LA Johnny Stylez. When the fuck did we start hiring twelve-year-old edgeslords as wrestlers people? I mean I've seen plenty of stoners in this business, fuck Rob Van Dam is a legend, but to the degree that this ass clown has taken it makes me question everything that I thought I knew about standards in wrestling. I've seen a guy in a Taco Suit wrestle, I spent some time up inside of a woman's vagina and then there's everything that Logan was, but this trying to be edgy with the '4:19 gOt a mINutE' shit is the first crap that's legitimately made my brain want to explode. For fuck's sake, we get it, you like to smoke a bowl and hang out at the skate park to look cool in front of the middle schoolers. But you're about one drywall punch away from me dragging you to a courthouse to get your name legally changed to Kyle, you little fucking choad. As for this tournament and your place in it, pay attention, I already told everyone that Beau's going into the finals. As for you? Well I don't have a minute but I'll offer you up some free advice: Before you lose any more brain cells and completely forgot how to talk and write, put down the bong, stop spelling your name with a 'Z' like it's the 90's and then lower your expectations for your career in wrestling because you peaked before you even had your first match. This tournament spot that you got gifted, it wasn't Black doing you a favor, it was him digging your career's grave. Such a pity, someone else, anyone else really, could have at least made it interesting.
Price shakes his head as he continues walking, finally coming to a clearing with a lake in the middle of it. As he stands at the edge of the water, looking out at the reflection of the moon on its surface, he continues.
Jayson Price: I've truly come to love this place lately, I've visited it almost daily since everything at WCF came to an end. The peace, the quiet, all of it such a change from what I dealt with for so long. But this serene sight is a perfect metaphor for what's coming. You see those clouds in the sky, the way the branches in the trees are shaking ever so slightly in the wind? There's a storm coming. This beautiful, calm landscape is about to be ravaged by a force of nature and it's helpless to stop what's coming. And that's exactly how XIII is going to start and end. I haven't been around wrestling for months now and all of you have been going about your lives, doing your own little thing, existing in this world with a sort of calmness and tranquility. But now here I am, coming back into your lives ready to tear it all to shit just to get what I want. And what is it that I want? To prove something to you, the fans, about how I still have it? I've never lost it and I've never needed to prove anything to any of you. Is it about sticking it to Corey Black by winning his tournament? Eh, I've moved past the days where I feel the need to fuck over that old curmudgeon. At this point, it's just become sad how easy it is for me to piss him off. So maybe I'm just showing up to do this tournament so that I can collect a title because that's my thing, I'm a title whore, right? Come on, let's be real if I really wanted to get my hands on an AW Title I'd have shown up at any point and just taken one just like I used to do all the time in WCF. The fact is, my whole reasoning for accepting the surprise invitation to this tournament is my business and mine alone. I don't need to explain shit to anyone, never have and never will. At this point, you just need to be ready to celebrate my ten year anniversary in this business by watching me beat the fuck out of some guys on national TV. But for now, before all of that, just sit back and enjoy the calm. Take the time to soak in the sights and the sounds of how things are right now in these days leading up to XIII. Because I promise you, there's going to be a lot of people that are going to hate what's coming.
The scene fades out to black as the camera zooms in on the ripples on the lake, distorting Price's reflection.
The gravelly voice of Jayson Price, spoken just above a whisper, is heard as the scene slowly fades in from black. While his current location is a mystery still, it's obvious that he's far from his Philadelphia home as it appears as though he's in a forest, sitting on a log in front of a small fire under the moonlight. His hair is now a bit longer, his beard a bit more scraggly, but the eyes are the same as always, piercing straight through you. The epitome of the phrase 'grizzled veteran', a man that's fought countless battles across the globe, slowly showing the effects of war while remaining an imposing figure that commands respect rather than ask for it. As the flames crackle in front of him, he speaks.
Jayson Price: It's been four months. Four months since the last time I let a camera anywhere even near me as I tried to relax for the first time in almost ten years. Yeah, I spent time away from the ring recovering injuries and taking time off to regroup after the long grind of being on the road, but I never truly took time to simply relax and clear my mind and focus on myself and where I was at. So much time spent traveling around the world, wrestling in packed houses, putting my body on the line for the enjoyment of the fans, I truly needed to sit back and just...breathe.
Price closes his eyes and tilts his head back, letting out a loud breath.
Jayson Price: Where I've been and what I've been doing since the closing of WCF has been a subject of many a conversation, but the fact is that I simply chose to sit back and wait. While others took their talents to other companies, while some decided to start their own organizations, I chose to pick my moment just as I have my entire career. Why simply sign the first contract that was offered to me? Why put up my own money to create something from the ground up that relied solely on the work of others? No, I've made a career by making smart, calculated decisions that always had reasoning behind them, no matter how they may have come across at the time. It's how you survive in this business, something lost on the short-sighted masses. But why XIII, you might be asking yourself. Well, don't worry yourself trying to overthink it, just enjoy what's going to unfold, I promise it's going to be a hell of a ride. And that ride starts with a match against a stranger from another land, Masuda Jubei. A World Champion with an affinity for hardcore wresting as my very first opponent in a Deathmatch Tournament. Oh Corey, you fucking bastard, you never want to make it easy for me and for that I respect you. But I will not be so easily denied.
Price strokes his beard as he stares into the flames.
Jayson Price: Mister Jubei, hello. We haven't had the chance to meet before, but I've become rather invested in learning about you ahead of our match. Trying to get a feel for you, seeing what it is that makes you tick. And, uh, well I must say that I don't quite get it. Now I'm sure that the fear schtick works wonders for you around the world, obviously, it's been a fantastic weapon for you in Alpha Pro, but you're talking to the wrong man when you want to talk about collecting souls. I'm not a child reading a scary story by flashlight under a blanket, this talk of a man so terrifying that his name alone strikes fear does nothing to me. I've been in this business for what seems like forever, I'm sure you can relate, and I've traveled the world wrestling in front of fans just like yourself. This isn't my first rodeo by any means and it's hardly the first time that I've found myself about to stand across the ring from a man who considers himself to be more than just a man, but a manifestation of something else, in your case this urban legend. The man whose eyes are dark pits that suck in the joy and life of those that dare stare into them. The crooked, gnarled teeth that give off a less human and more sinister appearance. A body and hands that are worn and scarred from countless battles, every mark its own story of the pain and suffering of a victim.
Price lets out a soft chuckle as he grabs a handful of twigs from the ground and throws them onto the flames.
Jayson Price: It's an amusing tale, more vivid than the usual unimaginative picture that I'm painted, but it's really no more than that, just a tale. Fantastic marketing, I'm sure it's a huge hit amongst the youngsters in Japan looking for their own version of Bloody Mary or Slender Man to scare each other with during their sleepovers and campouts, but to think that I'll actually sit here and worry about a soul-stealing 'boogeyman' that also has a day job as a professional wrestler? Jubei, I've dealt with many things over the last decade in this business, from a clown that moonlit as a serial killer outside of the ring. To not one, but two inmates from mental asylums that were, also, probably moonlighting as serial killers away from the ring. To watching grown men literally die in and around the ring from everything like a syringe filled with bleach injected into an eyeball, to a damn chamber match specifically designed to kill as many wrestlers inside as possible. Come to think of it, the amount of death that I've seen in this business should probably be raising some red flags in a government building somewhere, but the point is that I've seen shit, real shit and not a story passed around the campfire, that would shake a man to the core.
There's a low rumble of thunder in the distance as a breeze picks up, stirring the fallen leaves on the forest floor and causing the flames to dance for the viewers.
Jayson Price: But I'm not that man. Never have been, never will be. I am unlike anything you have faced, inside or outside of a ring. I hear you talk about the blood that's been on your hands as if you're the only person that's ever beaten a man and then looked down and saw red covering your fingers and palms. It's a beautiful sight, looking down and seeing the thing that courses through every living being, keeping it alive, knowing that the person who's lost it depends on it for their very existence. And knowing that the more that you take from that man, the more that you force from his body, the closer you are to bringing their demise. It feels good, doesn't it? That feeling of power? I know who I'm speaking to Jubei, I know you know how good it feels.
Price leans back, arms crossed over his chest, a look of knowing on his face.
Jayson Price: But do you truly know who it is that you are talking to? I honestly don't feel like you do, Jubie. I feel as though you think that I'm just another dumb American wrestler who only knows how to solve things with violence and doesn't appreciate the art form that is psychological warfare. But that's where you'd be making a fatal mistake because I, more than anyone else you could have been put up against, have been through more than enough shit to see right through the smoke you're trying to pump out. I'm a mother fucking veteran of this business, with ten god damn years and hundreds of matches under my belt, so when you want to try and come at me with the Shang Tsung 'I want your soul, Jayson' routine, I'll just slap the fucking taste out of your mouth and tell you to go back to Japan, where the kiddies want to stand in front of a mirror and say your name three times as a joke. What I'm trying to say, and this is as easily as I can put it, is that I don't fear you.
Price uncrosses his arms and leans back forward, staring ahead directly at the camera, exuding confidence.
Jayson Price: I don't fear Masuda Jubei the man. I don't fear Masuda Jubei the name. I don't fear Masuda Jubei the urban legend. I don't fear you one single, solitary bit because when I look at you, I see nothing but a man. And because it's only a man that I see when I look at you, I know that I can beat you. You, the man with the aged skin and the scars littering your body from all of the matches that you've been in, are nothing but flesh that can be torn, stretched over bones that can be broken, filled with blood that can be spilled. You've given so much of yourself inside of the ring that you feel as though you can withstand anything that anyone brings your way because you're the toughest son of a bitch in the room. Maybe that's true in some of the companies you wrestled in over in Japan or over there in Alpha Pro, but the shit you've been through is the kind of shit I wish I'd only seen in my career. You're talking to a man that had his neck broken and still managed to return in a matter of months. A man that took a quadruple superkick to the skull and ended up in a coma. I have moonsaulted off of cells, competed in the most horrifying of hardcore matches and dealt with unimaginable pain, all of it while still putting together a career that's the wet dream of wrestler's from any country. Whatever you think you can bring to this match that will put me down, I'm telling you right now, unless it's a god damn gun, it won't work. This isn't a normal one on one match, it's going to be a fucking war fought with instruments of torture and pain, waged by two men hellbent on destroying the other. And I'm betting on me as being the one that's able to walk away.
Price pushes himself up off of the log and begins to circle the flames as he continues.
Jayson Price: Now don't get me wrong, I always do give credit when it's due, and you've earned some clout around the world over your time in the business, both in and out of the ring. But while you were trying to make a name in Japan, never satisfied with merely being a champion while struggling to achieve the level of greatness seen by those before you, I spent a decade building a legacy. I rose from obscurity, a rookie with no business getting a chance, to the pinnacle of our craft as I won title after title, match after match. I put my body on the line constantly to get where I am and it was all worth it because I've reached that level of immortality that most can only dream of. You, meanwhile, have done what? You spent a few years toiling in the business before moving on into the world of organized crime, then used your own money to take control of a company before running it into the ground. Then you tried to open your own company and build it from scratch, only to run your talent away with mismanagement before closing the doors. Now you're back between the ropes, having realized that you didn't have the mind required to be the guy in charge, hoping to salvage the remaining bits of your legacy in a third rate wrestling company. The Alpha Pro Wrestling World Champion, Masuda Jubei, ladies, and gentlemen. What's that? Never heard of it? That's fine, neither had I until this tournament was announced. I spent some time, looked into it and found out it's nothing more than Odin Balfore fighting the people who left WCF but weren't good enough to get a contract from Action Wrestling. And if you think that's too harsh a critique, please feel free to explain to me how you build a company around Jaice Wilds, Buzzsaw Bundy or 'Jazzy' John McCarty that won't fold. I give the fucking place another few months, tops.
Price pauses to shrug his shoulders, almost as if to mockingly give a 'sorry' to any Alpha Pro talent that may see this, before continuing to pace around the fire.
Jayson Price: But I digress. Leading this sinking ship as it's champion is you, Masuda. From running a failing company to representing a different failing company on a world stage, you're coming into XIII with the misguided dream of expanding your legacy while helping to put Alpha Pro on the map. You've got an entire company depending on you to show the world that talent exists outside of what they've been seeing on their televisions. Now I don't know why Corey Black chose you over all the other talent in the world, but he's set you up for failure and, in the process, set you up to once again disappoint those counting on you. Between myself, Beau Blaze and LA Johnny Stylez, I was the worst-case scenario for you when it came to a first-round match-up. You face Beau or Johnny, shit you may have had a chance to get to the finals, who knows. But we'll never know what it would have been like to watch Masuda Jubei battling it out with Corey Black for the AW Hardcore Title because you're not even going to survive your first match, let alone battle for the right to challenge for the belt. Forget about the fact that I can tear down every single ounce of the tiny bit of mystique you have while simultaneously shitting all over this legend of a 'soul stealer', I am going to physically dominate you from the time the bell rings to the time the referee's hand hits the mat for a three count. You might be a warrior who's spilled blood inside of the ring but I am not afraid to drive myself to near-death just to achieve what I've put my mind to. You break my arm and I'll just twist my body and bitch slap you with my limp limb. You cut me and spill my blood, I'll force your face into the puddle and watch you struggle until you drown. Do you want to beat me, Jubei? Then you need to be ready to kill me because that's the only way I can be stopped.
Price pauses and glances over at the camera.
Jayson Price: And that, Masuda, is how you give the world a tale about a man that's actually worth telling. Consider it an early birthday present. Quite possibly the last one that you'll ever be conscious enough to appreciate.
Price kicks at the ground, spraying dirt into the flames until finally they die out, plunging the forest into darkness. Illuminated by only the light from the moon and the stars above, Price begins to walk through the woods, followed closely by the cameraman.
Jayson Price: Now I'd be remiss if I didn't take a moment to consider the other two men taking part in this little tournament. Beau Bla- Oh, I'm sorry, I suppose now it's Beau Del Soul. The cowboy who showed up at high noon to defend his name and his legacy and lost it all. Well, partner, you've already lost enough, wouldn't you say? I don't believe I've ever heard about a wrestler that lost his name because he couldn't win a match. I've heard of people losing masks. I've heard about people losing hair. I've even heard about those losing their jobs because they had to leave town. But men still have faces beneath those masks, hair can be grown back and there are always other opportunities out there as long as you look. But to be put into a situation where you have to defend your name, something that you've been working to make famous and build a legacy upon, and then lose it, my oh my that's got to be a massive blow to the old ego. And I'm sure that you're going to deny it, tell the world that a name is just that and that it's the man behind the name that matters.
Price pauses to turn back and face the camera.
Jayson Price: But the problem with that is the fact that people can look at you and see someone who went into a match hellbent on keeping his name, willing to fight with everything he had, and lost. Your best just wasn't good enough. And if you were so motivated but still fell, well then how can anyone expect you to not fall again when it's something else you're motivated about? I mean obviously you can recover, win some more matches, maybe add a title here and there, but at the end of the day, the stink of that loss is going to follow you every time you sign your name for a fan or see yourself in a wrestling program for years to come. That's a tough pill to swallow.
Price turns back around and continues his trek through the woods.
Jayson Price: But fear not, Lil Beau X, I'm not going to spend all of my time simply demeaning you over one single loss, despite its significance. The simple fact is that you're going to get LA Johnny Stylez, that I can be sure of, but that's where your night of joy is going to end. Once Masuda and I get done tearing each other from limb to limb and the time comes for you and I to inevitably face off in the finals of the tournament, no matter how bloodied and battered I may be, you still aren't going to have what it takes to defeat me. You are an insignificant speck in the universe of professional wrestling, slightly above a festering boil on an ass cheek in terms of importance. I look at you and see not a roadblock on my path to the Hardcore Title, but more of a detour sign. I'm still going to get where I need to go, but I have to take a slightly more annoying and inconvenient path than I should have to. And let's be real, after the epic bloodbath that Jubei and I are going to put on, having to watch me break Beau Ray Cyrus' aching heart as I drive him headfirst through the first solid object that I can find, well it just seems like a massive downgrade in quality. And speaking of downgrades, and I know how terrible of a segway that is but I really only like to use my best when it's worth it, while you Beau might be the tiny speck and the festering boil and everything else I spoke of, for the love of God at least you're a step above the abysmal wreck that is LA Johnny Stylez. When the fuck did we start hiring twelve-year-old edgeslords as wrestlers people? I mean I've seen plenty of stoners in this business, fuck Rob Van Dam is a legend, but to the degree that this ass clown has taken it makes me question everything that I thought I knew about standards in wrestling. I've seen a guy in a Taco Suit wrestle, I spent some time up inside of a woman's vagina and then there's everything that Logan was, but this trying to be edgy with the '4:19 gOt a mINutE' shit is the first crap that's legitimately made my brain want to explode. For fuck's sake, we get it, you like to smoke a bowl and hang out at the skate park to look cool in front of the middle schoolers. But you're about one drywall punch away from me dragging you to a courthouse to get your name legally changed to Kyle, you little fucking choad. As for this tournament and your place in it, pay attention, I already told everyone that Beau's going into the finals. As for you? Well I don't have a minute but I'll offer you up some free advice: Before you lose any more brain cells and completely forgot how to talk and write, put down the bong, stop spelling your name with a 'Z' like it's the 90's and then lower your expectations for your career in wrestling because you peaked before you even had your first match. This tournament spot that you got gifted, it wasn't Black doing you a favor, it was him digging your career's grave. Such a pity, someone else, anyone else really, could have at least made it interesting.
Price shakes his head as he continues walking, finally coming to a clearing with a lake in the middle of it. As he stands at the edge of the water, looking out at the reflection of the moon on its surface, he continues.
Jayson Price: I've truly come to love this place lately, I've visited it almost daily since everything at WCF came to an end. The peace, the quiet, all of it such a change from what I dealt with for so long. But this serene sight is a perfect metaphor for what's coming. You see those clouds in the sky, the way the branches in the trees are shaking ever so slightly in the wind? There's a storm coming. This beautiful, calm landscape is about to be ravaged by a force of nature and it's helpless to stop what's coming. And that's exactly how XIII is going to start and end. I haven't been around wrestling for months now and all of you have been going about your lives, doing your own little thing, existing in this world with a sort of calmness and tranquility. But now here I am, coming back into your lives ready to tear it all to shit just to get what I want. And what is it that I want? To prove something to you, the fans, about how I still have it? I've never lost it and I've never needed to prove anything to any of you. Is it about sticking it to Corey Black by winning his tournament? Eh, I've moved past the days where I feel the need to fuck over that old curmudgeon. At this point, it's just become sad how easy it is for me to piss him off. So maybe I'm just showing up to do this tournament so that I can collect a title because that's my thing, I'm a title whore, right? Come on, let's be real if I really wanted to get my hands on an AW Title I'd have shown up at any point and just taken one just like I used to do all the time in WCF. The fact is, my whole reasoning for accepting the surprise invitation to this tournament is my business and mine alone. I don't need to explain shit to anyone, never have and never will. At this point, you just need to be ready to celebrate my ten year anniversary in this business by watching me beat the fuck out of some guys on national TV. But for now, before all of that, just sit back and enjoy the calm. Take the time to soak in the sights and the sounds of how things are right now in these days leading up to XIII. Because I promise you, there's going to be a lot of people that are going to hate what's coming.
The scene fades out to black as the camera zooms in on the ripples on the lake, distorting Price's reflection.