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The Teacher
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Topic Started: Nov 5 2012, 04:56 AM (116 Views)
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James Stall
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Nov 5 2012, 04:56 AM
Post #1
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- Posts:
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A dark room. James Stall stands alone just as he has so many times before. This is not foreign for him, being a man alone in the darkness, allowing his thoughts to consume him and forgoing anyone else’s efforts to help him. Today he stands as the World Heavyweight Champion, a title he already knows is in jeopardy. In less than two months he faces five other men inside Hell in a Cell. All of them want what is his, and he is afraid. His mind races. Doubts plague him just as they have his entire career.
But today is not about them. It is not about the Challenger Series or Hell in a Cell. Today is about the Wildebeest and the fundamental difference between being a North American Champion and a World Champion. Today James Stall’s mind is focused. His anger has been sharpened to a deadly point. Today he knows no fear. He will allow himself no fear because his opponent has shown none. Instead his opponent has shown gall. The Wildebeest has made the mistake of not paying the Champion the respect he deserves. And for that the North American Champion must pay.
Yes. The World Heavyweight Champion does not fear the Wildebeest.
But the Wildebeest should fear James Stall.
Light. On.
James Stall is revealed. He is wearing a black silk boxing robe that has been stretched tight against his rock hard muscles. His stance is wide and so are his eyes has he looks down at the concrete floor with unblinking eyes. His jaw is clenched and his pupils are trained on the ground like laser beams. The robe is cinched by the World Heavyweight Championship. As James moves and looks up, the belt shifts on his waist and glimmers in the light.
“Learn the way of the wrestler…”
James slowly moves his tongue in front of his lower teeth before biting down on his lower lip as he taps his fingers against his sides. He arches one eyebrow.
“That’s really how you want to play this one?”
James shrugs his shoulders and the black silk shimmers. He stretches his arms behind his head and the World Championship moves higher on his waist. James lets out a slow, steady stream of air with a whistle.
“Okay.”
He claps his hands together over his head and brings them down into a prayer position in front of his chest. He pouts his lips and saddens his eyes like a big puppy dog.
“Oh please, Mr. Wildebeest. Tell me how to be like you. Show me your ways.”
James’ knees buckle, and his hands shake at the camera as he talks in an exaggerated whine.
“I beg of you shower me with your wisdom. Illuminate my faults, and show me the error of my ways. How can I be a true champion, a real man like you? You’ve got all the answers don’t you, Wildebeest? Pray tell what are they?”
Stall slaps his hands against his forehead and shapes his mouth into an O.
“Is it all in your precious book? Is that the secret? If I spent diligent hours reading and rereading, studying every passage, every word, would that make me a true wrestler?”
He smirks.
“Funny. I thought I was doing alright. Do you know what proof I have that I’m doing alright?”
And taps the shining golden belt around his waist.
“I’ve got this.”
James reaches up and scratches his temple while adjusting his belt with his other hand. He hunches forward, squints his eyes, sticks out his chin and makes a duckface with his lips as he slips into a hillbilly accent.
“Now I uh sure don’t have your a fancy book learnin. But I reckin’ this dang ol’ shiny piece o metal round my waist means Imma doin pretty darn well at this whole rasstlin thang.”
He straightens up and readjusts his robes. His hands slide down the silk from his chest until they rest on the belt around his waist.
“As for your book, Mr. Beest.”
He spits on the ground.
“Let me let you on my own little secret. I’ve lived it. Everything you’ve read about, everything you’ve studied, I’ve experienced first hand. I grew up with Judges of the Ring. Legends have trained me, taught me everything they knew. And do you know what the greatest lesson I learned from them was? It’s that other people can only take you so far. Whether it be trainers, family, or even that book of yours, sooner or later you’ve got to do it on your own. And that’s what I did.”
James clenches his robe by his chest with one hand.
“I have spent years building up and breaking down my body for this business, preparing myself, working myself to the bone, and sacrificing for the lifestyle I love. I’ve traveled all over the world, fought in some of the most dangerous matches, and I’ve walked away victorious. I have won championships as well as the adoration of the crowd and the respect of my fellow wrestlers. To do so I have broken bodies and minds and stained the ring with my blood and the blood of my opponents.”
He looks down at his shoulder and whispers.
“I am your book.”
James peels back the robe slowly to reveal several scars of varying size on his chest, some from simply nicks, others from once gaping wounds. With his right hand he takes off the World Heavyweight Championship, and the robe flies open revealing years of damage. There are more scars, fresher cuts and bruises that have yet to heal. All of these are tread marks from his time on the road, medals of honor hard fought for. The robe falls off James’ left shoulder. He shifts the World Championship to his left hand and the robe slip from his right shoulder as well. The silk falls to the ground like water off a cliff. James looks up at the ceiling with his arms open wide and a smile on his face.
“My body is the pages. And every scar, every bruise is another chapter, passage, phrase. Each word has been written with blood, fire, electricity. Volumes have been crafted by barbed-wire and glass. The saga of my life has been written on the rock of my body. My cover has been forged in steel and tempered by gold.”
James points his jaw.
“See this?”
He pops the jaw out and his eye winces in pain. He leaves his jaw dislocated for a moment before snapping it back into its socket with another loud pop. His hand frames his face, and the faded facial scars, the damage to his nose and jaw, all become clear as days.
“This is the story of how I won my first North American Championship with a fractured and dislocated jaw, and a broken nose. You beat three men in one match, pinning one of them. I beat three men in one night. I could barely walk when I faced Randy Altzer, the man who would be World Champion. My own blood blinded me as he slammed me against the mat and battered me with steel. Instinct alone drove me on that night. Years of training, muscle memory, and a bit of luck all kicked in. And I made Randal Altzer, future two time World Champion, tap out. My body was broken, and I still repaid him in kind.”
James raises his left arm in front of his face. He flexes his hand and the extra skin can be seen where it scarred over the wounds left by barbed wire. His entire forearm is covered in a crossing pattern way the razors wrapped around it and tore at his flesh. James crackes his well calloused knuckles.
“Here is written the story of how I won my second North American Championship by beating Doc Holiday. You can still see where I wrapped the barbed-wire around my hand before putting him in the Captain Clutch and making him submit. I’m going to beat you over the head with it until this story is absorbed into your brain.”
He turns around slowly to show off the art work that is his back, painted with more scras and bruises.
“The assorted scars on my chest and back? Among many things they tell the tales of my wars with Bombtrack and Romeo Stylez, matches that shaped me into the man I am today. If you look carefully you can still see the splinter marks from the table Priest put me through two weeks before I made him submit to take my World Championship.”
James turns a full the three-sixty and cracks his neck as he tilts his head at the camera.
“I didn’t stand here and take lectures form Outkast, so you’ll pardon me if I don’t take them from you, a man who is in no way qualified to give them. What have you done with your career? What have you accomplished that I have not already achieved and surpassed? A North American Championship reign? I’ve had two. Have you successfully defended that title yet? Because I did. How many men can you say you’ve truly broken in that ring, made to submit? No man in New Era has forced more people to beg for mercy than I have. And you’re damn sure not World Champion.”
James lifts the New Era World Heavyweight Championship up and presses it against his face.
“And I’m not going to be told when I’m ready to be World Champion, by someone who’s never been one.”
He pulls the belt away and holds it down by his waist. He looks at it with a great heaviness in his heart and mind, and a knot in his stomach.
“Am I afraid? Yes. Do I fear walking into the Challenge Series to face five men inside Hell in a Cell with my title on the line? Of course I am, because unlike you, Wildebeest, I am no fool. You don’t just look at Hell in the Cell and spit at it. You don’t take five opponents lightly. I know that that night a new epic will be written across my body, and I might not come out the end of it as champion. I am the biggest target in the match, the man with all the enemies, and I may not walk away at all. Dangerous things happen inside the cell, and that’s reason to be fearful.”
He looks up toward the camera, and his lip trembles slightly.
“Do I fear slipping? You’re damn right I do. But not because I’m afraid of what people might think of me but because this-“
James holds up the championship once more.
“This is my drug. It is my reason for being. Without this I will be driven mad. I will be insane with hunger until I get it again. It’s the reason men like Randy Altzer, and Robbie Priest lace up their boots, why they’ll kill themselves for a chance to be in the Six Pack. You’d know this if you actually held a World title, but you haven’t.”
James runs his tongue along his lower lip as he takes the time to tie the Championship back around his waist. He rests his hands on the leather strap and shakes his head.
“But you I do not fear. Because I see the arrogance in your eyes. I see the false confidence holding the North American Championship has given you. You talk about me and my ego? You’re a hypocrite. You complain that I don’t show respect and yet you talk down to me your World Heavyweight Champion even after I made your mentor submit to win my crown? And you’d rather walk over and play superhero rather than prepare for me?”
Stall chuckles to himself and wags his finger at the camera.
“I’ve got news for you buddy, nobody cares if you walk around the streets and save someone’s life. Nobody gives a shit about what kind of deep philosophical questions you might have caused him to contemplate. The match is about you and me. And I’ve shown beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can be a dangerous man. And you should know I’m exceptionally dangerous when I’m angry, and I’m most angry when I’m ignored.”
James does away with his jovial façade and glares at Wildebeest.
“You ignored me, and then you thought you could lecture me, two very big mistakes. But it’s okay. I’m a magnanimous person. And I have plenty of lessons to give you.”
James subconsciously rubs his hands against the golden center plate of the World Championship. He rocks back and forth on his heels as his mouth turns into a smug grin.
“The real problem is, you don’t know what it’s like to be a real champion. You had it easy, picking your spots in a four way, picking on men like Disturbed, Erickson, Stylez, all of whom I’ve beaten at some point. Have you even bled for this company? That belt you wear is caked with my blood just like this one will be. And that is where we will find our first lesson.”
James clenches his left fist and holds up his scarred hand toward the camera. He brings his face close to his fist and stares at it almost mesmerized by the damage he has done to himself. James slowly turns his head to look directly toward the camera.
“I will make you bleed at NewTV. I will force you to suffer. I will teach you the brutality that I shared with men like Doc Holiday, Bombtrack, and Romeo Stylez. I will beat you like you have never been beaten, brutalize you like you could never imagine, and when I am done I will break you just like I did to Raw, and Priest, and so many others.”
James takes a step back and raises his arms above his head. He flexes his muscles, and the belt once against lifts higher on his waist and glimmers in the light.
“Then, when the class is over, you may pick up your pieces and, if you can, walk away. Hopefully then you’ll have learnt something about what it means to be a champion in this company. Maybe it’ll make you a better person, a better wrestler. It should teach you to respect your betters, specifically me, your World Heavyweight Champion, and maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll get a taste of the power that comes with this belt.”
James thrusts his left index finger toward the ground while tapping on his championship with his right hand. His face is like steel, and his eyes are like fire as he stares down Wildebeest. The scars on his face seem swell and move as his upper lip curls into a snarl.
“But know this. Your book is meaningless. You have not been prepared to face a champion of my caliber, and your gods cannot save you from me. I am your teacher now, and you will learn at my boot.”
Lights. Out.
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New Era Record: 29-26-1
New Era Accomplishments: Record Holder for Longest World Heavyweight Championship Reign (239 Days) Record Holder for Longest Title Reign (239 Days) Record Holder for New Era Submission Victories (9) Record Holder for Main Event Wins (16) Co-Record Holder for Super Show Wins (11) x1 Winner of the New Era Secret Santa Tournament x2 North American Champion x2 New Era World Heavyweight Champion (Current)
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