Confession

[jayshort]

"You know what I just realized, Sight? I'm jealous of you. Heh... it's hilarious to even think it, and even more hilarious to even acknowledge the fact that it was thought... but, in growing this past year... I've learned to accept things as they come. And, address them. No matter how surprising. That's the only way I'm gonna continue to grow... and, become what I know I can and will be in the CSWA."

fade- in:

[small]Standing with his head and back comfortably rested against a red brick wall... Triple X turned to his right to face the camera, which had been recording him from a side angle. He had just completed a two hour rigorous workout, that consisted of both, weight training, and cardiovascular conditioning, and decided to catch a breath of fresh air, before packing his bags and heading home. As he parted his lips to speak, once more... the camera panned downward for a quick second. He was clad in a pair of dark gray sweatpants, a white 'wife-beater' tank top, and training shoes. Also visibal... on his left arm... was his brand new tatoo - a picture of a cross.[/small]

"Okay... before you jump to conclusions, and beat this current fact into the ground, let me explain what I mean, Sight. It goes like this... when I look at you, whether it be cutting a promo, or competing in a match, or being laughed at by the veterans in which you honestly feel respect you in the same manner in which you respect them... I can't help but be jealous. I can't help but shake my head. Because, I can do what you do, twenty- six million times better. The reason I don't? Because unlike you, I never lacked personality. I was never teased in high school, as I was always one of, if not the single most popular kids in class. From the day I was born, Sight... I've done nothing but excell in everything I've ever attempted."

"So when it came time to compete in the center of the wrestling ring... no matter how many times Eli Flair and Randy Harders smacked me down, trying their damndest to show me why I don't belong... I got back up, and got back up, and got back up. And, unlike you, Sight... I didn't adopt the 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' attitude. I stayed true to myself and perservered, so much that Eli Flair respects the hell out of me, not just for what I'm currently doing... but, for what I've been through."

"You had the chance to be something special in this sport, Plett. But, the minute the obstacle became more than a cake-walk... you choked. You did what everybody else was doing in an attempt to be with the 'in crowd'. And, now... apparently, somebody has you believing this current... trend you're following is the thing to be..."

"...you don't DESERVE to be Presidential Champion."

[small]Triple X ran his fingers through his curly golden hair. In the matter of a couple of days... it had grown considerably. No longer was he sporting the perfectly trimmed top gun-ish buzz cut, perfectly shaped sideburns, and beard... no. ...on this day, he was 'scraggly'. His hair, while sweated out, had grown into a cute, curly little bush. His sideburns, while not being touched by a pair of clippers, had grown beyond the length of his ears, and was beginning to connect to his beard.

He didn't have time to focus on being pretty... he was serious. He was determined. And, his goal wasn't to impress. It was to win.[/small]

"And, don't give me that whole I've been through it all crap, either. Have you been in life threatening car accidents, where doctor's flat out told you, all sugar-coating aside, that your career was over? Were you beaten so bad, by the hand of Blade, Eli Flair, Havoc, and Zero, that you were placed in a coma for nearly a month? No, Sight... you weren't. Your little mickey mouse scars, and war stories may impress Gemini, and the other CSWA curtain jerkers, with no future OTHER than being a CSWA curtain jerker... but, it's unimpressive to me."

"Then you babble on- and- on, about your Stellar Performances? About your ability to keep fans on the edge of their seats... whatever. I've competed in four man ladder matches, that have had fans ON their FEET the entire evening. I've wrestled matchups with your fetish, Eli Flair that unlike yours, were entertaining, because the fans never truly knew what to expect, or who would win."

"THAT's why I'm jealous, Sight. Because, you sit back, feet perched up, with your Presidential title by your side, feeling as if somebody owes you something, because you've been the CSWA whipping boy for God knows how long. But, what you fail to realize is... it doesn't work like that. I am coming into the New Orleans arena with one specific goal in mind... and, that's to win. Whether that means pinning your shoulder's to the mat, or beating the living hell out of Gemini to do so. The only thing that matters is, it'll be done, because it has to be done."

"If I thought there was a chance that I'd lose this match, Sight? I wouldn't have agreed to it."

"Bring your best... because I don't want any excuses. Tell Gemini to bring his, too... so that nothing tarnishes my reign. It's already set in stone, Sight... I've all but guaranteed it. I *am* gonna beat you. I *am* walking out of New Orleans Presidential Champion. The only thing you can do now... is live with it..."

[small]With that, Triple X turned his back to the camera and made his way inside the gym...[/small]

fade- to- black

 

[MPettingill]

The Same Man

[font color= black]From top to bottom, Michael Plett – Wicked Sight – is the same man he has been since the spotlight of Greensboro gold has been thrust upon him. All he did was grow up a little bit. Externally, he’s still clad in a leather jacket (it’s getting cold out) sitting atop a flame-designed t-shirt with red, white and blue flames. He’s still sporting shredded jeans and he’s still got a head full of black hair, shaved underneath and thrown back over the top. And now, standing before a backdrop, Wicked Sight is in to make a quick comment on his opponents for PrimeTime in New Orleans.

[font color= red]WS[font color= black]:The thing is, Triple X, this isn’t about you. You can try and get in my head, but all you want is GOLD. You’ve been held back far too long? If you want to talk about gimmick infringement, pal, I was using that a long time ago. You want to know why I’m not the “future” of the game anymore? Because I’m the PRESENT! You were too busy getting your ass handed to you during Elvis Lives, but if you heard the crowd, and you saw my performance, then you know that the matches I put on against the best names in the business over the past year weren’t flukes. It’s like I said, though, Triple X, this isn’t about you. If you get in my way in New Orleans, like I know you will… then you’ll be dealt with. Because even though I was never an Eli Flair ripoff and even though you’ve got your had still stuck in he middle of TCW – that revolution has been over for a while – I am a grown-up man ready to live for THIS moment, and my game is up to another level. I’m embraced, I’m being allowed in, and now that I am… I’m beating everyone from top to bottom, and these people who pay to see us all perform – they LOVE me for it, were you listening in Tacoma? I don’t what the hell this stuff is about me “joining him”… but you know as well as I do, every time someone knocks me down I’m back up. You can ask Cardigo Mysterian after he ripped my shoulder in two, or you can ask Havoc when he dropped Havoc Bombs on me, I might not have won but I ALWAYS got up. You can make jokes, but the fact of the matter…

Sean…

I’m a grown-up now, and quite frankly, Triple X doesn’t register on my blip as of yet. The only thing I can think about is you, Gemini. Gem – you damned near drove me INSANE in Cincinnati, but you failed in that – instead, you know what you did? You snapped me out of a funk, and I haven’t lost a match since. I’ve pinned you twice in a row, big boy. The big names still don’t want to let me in, but I’m taking this federation from the outside. When Cold’s music hits the speakers and the crowd erupts, the STELLAR PERFORMANCE that I give to them shatters your comedy routine. Despite what you tried to do in Cinci, and what you tried to do at Elvis, what you did in Tacoma was the worst yet. You’re a desperate man. You think you’ve got me where you want me – but just like in Cincinnati, all you’ve done is make me mad enough to pin you… one more time, big boy.

Sit at home on your double-sided thumb, Gemini… Because in New Orleans, that’s the first thing I’m going to RIP OFF…

Cut Out