Adapt and Overcome.
(FADEIN: on an envelope.
It's a plain white envelope, completely unmarked in any way, save a small stain in the corner from some beer that was spilled on the bar.
Oh yeah, I'm in a bar. Let me spin around and show you the place, since I pretty much live here when I'm home and not home. Panning up, the mirror behind the bar had the bottom twenty percent covered by lots and lots of bottles of alcohol.
There's Valerie. Say hi, Valerie.
"Hey," said Valerie, behind the bar, "Please don't film me." Val's all right. She's a short, curvy woman with chin - length blonde hair and a lot of fans at the bar. Val kept on working, restocking some of the supplies during a period of downtime.
She kept looking at the camera out of the corner of her eye, this one is trouble. Trust me.
Panning to the right, there's three people sitting at the bar that I don't recognize, one in particular is wearing the telltale DUFFS vest, evidently a Brooklyn denizen got lost way, way, way, way uptown. Past them is the door to the back courtyard where you can smoke without leaving your drink behind.
I continued to spin, showing the nearly empty mid-section of the place, two tables were occupied by some young folks, and way in the back, in the corner, the owner of the place, Miss Ivy McGinnis, sat with her legs folded up, intensely studying something on her laptop. There's a small stage setup on the far wall, where local bands get booked to play gigs on the weekends.
Weekdays, especially Wednesdays, are historically pretty slow here. People work, people have school, and going uptown to a bar in the Bronx isn't high on most peoples' lists. That's why Rosie isn't working tonight, she's home, waiting for me to finish up my promo. I'd have cut this at home but Zesty Mordant already did that once, and I don't want to get swallowed by that obvious cinematic gem.
You know, I should probably start this before the batteries in my camera die.
Three... two... one...)
"No limits, Zesty."
"I've been saying that for the past week, and I think you're the perfect opponent to explain what I mean."
I spun the camera around the bar again, a little faster this time.
"This is where I'm most at home, Zesty - this is where I like to be. A hole - in - the - wall dive bar in the Bronx, where the beer is always ice cold and I'm just two stops from home."
"Now, in the past year I've been all over the country, from five star Meccas of tourism to the Motel Six with lizards living in the bathroom, but no matter where I've been, I've adapted and overcome. While nothing is going to beat working for NLW and coming to work from my own home, adapt and overcome has been the mantra of my career from the very beginning."
Can't really blame me, can you? I'm under six feet and two bills. If I didn't have some tricks up my sleeve I'd be in pretty serious trouble.
"Without it, I wouldn't have gotten through the JTP Invitational, or to the very end of the NFW Grand Prix, or lasted over an hour in PRIME's Dual Halo or come back from a tough loss to Lane Stevens in the most recent GTT event only to get another shot at him."
Adapt and Overcome.
"Facing off with the talent inherent in Next Level Wrestling, I knew I'd have to do the same. I adapted and overcame Jay One Dee in my debut... and now, I'm facing off with the Blue Bastard."
"Who is the Blue Bastard, however? Can anyone tell me?"
Drunk.
Redneck.
Trailer Trash.
"Good enough to be in Next Level Wrestling, which is good enough for me. But Zesty, have you adapted? Can you overcome?"
Honestly, I don't know.
"The Blue Bastard is a man who spends his money on rum and high class French cuisine."
Ha ha.
"The Blue Bastard picks old cigga-butts off the ground to save cash, then buys his lackeys a round at Le Betes, which is expensive enough to have al fresca seating."
Ha ho.
"The Blue Bastard apparently sleeps in his Bundymobile of a car, which is incredible when you consider drugs and alcohol have probably never adversely affected his life."
Ha hum.
"Tell me something, Zesty? What's your endgame? What's the point of your career in Next Level Wrestling? Get into a good fight and have an excuse to get sloshed after the show's over? Do you differentiate between a good fight and a bad fight?"
IS there a difference?
"It's a law of nature, Zesty, that fighting for something will always trump fighting for nothing. Now, I brought up money, I brought up rum, I brought up name recognition because that's the kind of language I assumed you understood, but your brain appears to be stuck in second gear without the clutch."
I'm gonna beat Impulse. I'm gonna kick his ass and wipe that silly smirk off his skull.
Great. How?
Well...
Exactly.
"If I cared about money I wouldn't be here. If I cared about recognition I wouldn't have spent the first year of my career anonymously under a mask."
The Messenger Is Not Important.
"What I care about is this sport, and the guys gettin' in on the ground floor. What I care about is the present, and the future of this sport, and doing what I can to elevate both aspects."
And I spun around and picked up my envelope.
"The difference between us, Zesty, is that we're going to roll into Vulgar and take back New York, and then... we're off in different directions."
I opened the lip of the envelope and held out a pair of laminates. The identification says "EYE FOR AN EYE 3/27/2010 ALL ACCESS" across the front, in front of the NLW logo.
"My path is going to be taking me straight through to the Open Weight Championship finals, Zesty."
I put the laminates in the envelope and sealed it, then just as suddenly I tore the end off the envelope and shook it out.
Nothing came.
"Yours, I believe... isn't going to lead to much of anything."
Envelope, out of view.
"I could be way, way off, Zesty... but I've been around enough of the people in this sport that matter to be able to pick out the people who will matter... and as long as you're sleepwalking down the path you're on, you'll never be able to control it for yourself."
"And unless you can control your path, you'll never be able to carve out a new one."
"This match may be up in the air, Zesty... but the aftermath is all too clear."
"No Limits."
"Fly From The Path."
FADE