Post by sh17 on Sept 2, 2009 19:48:17 GMT -6
The banging of hammers and the smell of fresh cut lumber and grass permeates the scene. A large group of workers are constructing what appears to be a large quadrangular building. A figure on a fairly steep hill in the distance overlooks the construction, and once he turns around we see that it is the new SNW Texas Champion Vincent Matthews. Wearing his newly won prize around his waist, he stares at the camera wearing a smirk that conveys satisfaction yet unpleasantness.
When I first came to this company I laid out a simple edict for myself to accomplish. That was win and become the best. Saturday came, and so did my time. In under six months, I ascended from undercard wanna be to main event certainty. I have become the youngest Texas Champion in history. My years of social isolation and degradation, the sweat equity of constant preparation and training has paid off in leather and gold that is currently in my possession. But it's not the physical article that I now rightfully adorn myself with that I take comfort in. It's that pride, not the belt. I won this belt on my own, fair and square and no one can or will ever erase my name from the ledger of champions. I am immortal, as you will always see who I am and that I have climbed that mountain, reached that peak of unadulterated success, and planted my flag on the summit. Someday I will lose this belt, law of averages supports me even though averages never did me any favors, however the memory and the history is forever.
Matthews unstraps the belt and hangs it on his shoulder, casts another glance over his shoulder at the construction and looks back.
With success, alas, comes failure. And while I succeeded in my quest, two others in my stead were not as fortunate. Samuel and Marcus did not win their match, and subsequently fell down the ladder. I detest and despise failure, however failure is a necessary evil in this eternity of ours. Even I lost two title matches before I came to hoist this belt. While the record books say TNT won, I say they lost. Samuel and Marcus were not supposed to even come close to sniffing those belts. Instead, they were less than a second away at points from taking them from their current holders. They had everything to gain, and nothing to lose. Andrew Smith and Mike Rutherford should have wiped the canvas with them, yet they could barely contain them.TNT, you failed as champions and are lucky to be holding those titles right now but you hold them none the less. As the old saying goes, it's better to be lucky than good.
Notice I have gone so long without even acknowledging the commotion behind me? Maybe I should lend some insight as to what undertaking is happening. See, I made a promise about a month or so ago that changes were going to be made. Name changes, changes in rosters, changes in champions as it so happens. Well, another one is happening. Out in the rural area where you'll see more cows than cars, I'm building a mecca. One where I can train away from the people that I despise, the ones who want nothing more in their sad pathetic lives than to see my life's work crumble before me in three seconds. Solitude, fresh air, and my own space. But, this is not just for me. It's for those who I lead, for those who share a common goal and a similar destiny. To train, to learn, to nourish and sustain. There will be others, who think that they can join and become apart of what I am building. Almost all will fail, but there will be those ones who are either tough enough, stupid enough, or stubborn enough to last. Some will say I am part Pat Miletich, part Killer Kowalski but in reality I am neither. They are great, but they are different than me. I'd love to explain it, but alas the time it would take can be better spent preparing for the future.
Before I go attend to my affairs, I do want to cast a message that needs to be heard. Soul Reaper, I know you're out there and I know you still feel that this belt as yours having never lost it. You've got your rematch clause, but you better hold onto it son. I saw your eyes, and they were not showing me the heart, the passion, the pure soul of a champion. I don't want to fight the shell of a champion, I want to fight someone who wants it. Jack Clinton, you did something that even I as malicious as I truly am deep down in my soul you just do not do. You assaulted a woman, more to the point you assaulted the woman I care the most about in this universe. You're lucky you are still alive, never mind choked out. Best you not worry about me, because you've got Marcus and Samuel who are nice and pissed off about losing. That's good, anger can be channeled into controlled fury. You've got enough trouble on your hands, instead of worrying about trying to get another crack at me. The one that I most need to address is the one I never saw that night, the one who decided to rain on the parade. Silvus, I know you are out there and you want to win this title back. You're a master of fear, controller of terror, and an overall cruel son of a bitch. So, I know you are seeing this because you see and hear all. I respect you, but I refuse to fear you. You may think you have the advantage, but I have what you want. That gives me the edge, the leverage if you will. You want a shot at this belt, you better work your ass off and earn it. To the rest of SNW, you're all out there. Don't sit there and wait like the swine that watches you every week. Take your opportunity, because no one will hand it to you like a stick of gum. If you can't earn it, then you don't deserve it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to attend to.
Matthews holds his belt and walks off, not before casting one last glance of daggers at the cameras.
When I first came to this company I laid out a simple edict for myself to accomplish. That was win and become the best. Saturday came, and so did my time. In under six months, I ascended from undercard wanna be to main event certainty. I have become the youngest Texas Champion in history. My years of social isolation and degradation, the sweat equity of constant preparation and training has paid off in leather and gold that is currently in my possession. But it's not the physical article that I now rightfully adorn myself with that I take comfort in. It's that pride, not the belt. I won this belt on my own, fair and square and no one can or will ever erase my name from the ledger of champions. I am immortal, as you will always see who I am and that I have climbed that mountain, reached that peak of unadulterated success, and planted my flag on the summit. Someday I will lose this belt, law of averages supports me even though averages never did me any favors, however the memory and the history is forever.
Matthews unstraps the belt and hangs it on his shoulder, casts another glance over his shoulder at the construction and looks back.
With success, alas, comes failure. And while I succeeded in my quest, two others in my stead were not as fortunate. Samuel and Marcus did not win their match, and subsequently fell down the ladder. I detest and despise failure, however failure is a necessary evil in this eternity of ours. Even I lost two title matches before I came to hoist this belt. While the record books say TNT won, I say they lost. Samuel and Marcus were not supposed to even come close to sniffing those belts. Instead, they were less than a second away at points from taking them from their current holders. They had everything to gain, and nothing to lose. Andrew Smith and Mike Rutherford should have wiped the canvas with them, yet they could barely contain them.TNT, you failed as champions and are lucky to be holding those titles right now but you hold them none the less. As the old saying goes, it's better to be lucky than good.
Notice I have gone so long without even acknowledging the commotion behind me? Maybe I should lend some insight as to what undertaking is happening. See, I made a promise about a month or so ago that changes were going to be made. Name changes, changes in rosters, changes in champions as it so happens. Well, another one is happening. Out in the rural area where you'll see more cows than cars, I'm building a mecca. One where I can train away from the people that I despise, the ones who want nothing more in their sad pathetic lives than to see my life's work crumble before me in three seconds. Solitude, fresh air, and my own space. But, this is not just for me. It's for those who I lead, for those who share a common goal and a similar destiny. To train, to learn, to nourish and sustain. There will be others, who think that they can join and become apart of what I am building. Almost all will fail, but there will be those ones who are either tough enough, stupid enough, or stubborn enough to last. Some will say I am part Pat Miletich, part Killer Kowalski but in reality I am neither. They are great, but they are different than me. I'd love to explain it, but alas the time it would take can be better spent preparing for the future.
Before I go attend to my affairs, I do want to cast a message that needs to be heard. Soul Reaper, I know you're out there and I know you still feel that this belt as yours having never lost it. You've got your rematch clause, but you better hold onto it son. I saw your eyes, and they were not showing me the heart, the passion, the pure soul of a champion. I don't want to fight the shell of a champion, I want to fight someone who wants it. Jack Clinton, you did something that even I as malicious as I truly am deep down in my soul you just do not do. You assaulted a woman, more to the point you assaulted the woman I care the most about in this universe. You're lucky you are still alive, never mind choked out. Best you not worry about me, because you've got Marcus and Samuel who are nice and pissed off about losing. That's good, anger can be channeled into controlled fury. You've got enough trouble on your hands, instead of worrying about trying to get another crack at me. The one that I most need to address is the one I never saw that night, the one who decided to rain on the parade. Silvus, I know you are out there and you want to win this title back. You're a master of fear, controller of terror, and an overall cruel son of a bitch. So, I know you are seeing this because you see and hear all. I respect you, but I refuse to fear you. You may think you have the advantage, but I have what you want. That gives me the edge, the leverage if you will. You want a shot at this belt, you better work your ass off and earn it. To the rest of SNW, you're all out there. Don't sit there and wait like the swine that watches you every week. Take your opportunity, because no one will hand it to you like a stick of gum. If you can't earn it, then you don't deserve it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to attend to.
Matthews holds his belt and walks off, not before casting one last glance of daggers at the cameras.