(Outside the arena, afternoon of Wrestleverse. In the parking lot area, a black Lexus pulls into a spot. Daymon, in his street clothes, appears from the driver's side and makes his way toward the wrestlers' entrance. On the way, he notices the camera crew and comes to a stop.)
Rocko Daymon
It was only natural that upon hearing that I was going up against a guy who calls himself "Black Rose", a few red flags were being tossed around inside my head... but somehow, I'm kinda impressed by what you've had to say thus far.
Kazuo, all the philosophical and introspective bull**** aside, you come off as the kind of guy who knows what it means to gear up and step into that ring, and give the best damn performance your body can give. You know what it means to learn as you go on... to look back on past failures and correct your mistakes.
It's a road I've walked for eight years of professional wrestling. It's a road I still walk today, in other federations, and here in Empire Pro.
(Daymon's eyes trail up to the Wrestleverse banners hung along the side of the building, featuring many of Empire Pro's top-tier talents. He sighs with melancholy.)
Rocko Daymon
It's funny... thinking back to the days when John Miller was signing checks and Dan Ryan was just another name on the roster. Back then, I was one of this federation's biggest names. And now? I'm barely dark match material.
I come into this match with a win over Damian Stone, though I can't shake this feeling of having done a half-assed job. I might have pinned his shoulders to the mat for three quick seconds... but I didn't finish him off, like I wanted to, or like I should have. I wanted to make a bang with my return to Empire Pro, and instead made a whimper.
And as I think back to my days here years ago, it almost feels like it's the same thing happening again. It feels like I left a job unfinished, and I've been living with that regret for the past couple years... how I could have stayed and toughed it out. I could have changed Empire Pro, if I had only swallowed my pride and took it like a man...
But those days are beyond me, and now, I have to live with my mistake. I have to atone for it.
(He turns back to the camera.)
Rocko Daymon
You seem to be the kind of guy whose focused on the art of fighting as opposed to the result. But what is beauty? Is there an absolute truth that defines that which is beautiful from what is ugly?
No. The truth is, beauty is subjective, in the eye of the beholder. So I look beyond what is beautiful and ugly. I see what is core in spirit and strength, and match it with my own. Cause in the end, all that matters is the three count. All that matters is who moves on to bigger game and who gets sent back to the locker room heavy hearted.
It's ironic that you wonder if my "tough-guy" shtick is just wearing a mask to cover my own failures. Odd how I take that from a guy who wears a mask...
Amigo, I've made it my goal in the past two years to remove any and all masks and guises. What you see is the true and unconditional self... the fighter's spirit... the will to succeed under any circumstances. My failures I deal with in my own way. I learn from my mistakes, and use what was once my vice as a weapon. If you think I have trouble showing it, then it might be due to the fact that "failure" is not something I'm associated with in the ring.
I know about failure... I know about fear, and ignorance, and addiction. Those are my failures. I've had to live with that. But when the bell rings, "failure" is out of the question. Not even an option.
(With another sigh, this one sounding impatient, Daymon shakes his head and looks to the camera again, his eyes like stone.)
Rocko Daymon
Well, I'll just be blunt...
I'm not here to partake in character analysis or psychology. I didn't come back to Empire Pro to hold philosophical debates and define vague meanings. Simply put, I'm in this to win under any means necessary.
So, despite what you know and what you think you know about this Mr. Daymon, nothing short of my head exploding before the match is going to stop me from stepping in there and spiking your head into the mat. We'll make a little game out of it: how many times can I drill you head-first into the floor before you realize it's a bad idea to stand up again?
It's not that I have anything personal against you, Shizaki. A part of me even admires your patience and keen observations. But I'm not too happy about half-assing Damian Stone, and I'm not too happy about coming into an event like Wrestleverse so low in the card. The only way I'm going to be able to make up for that is by making an example of you.
You'll know then what is facade and what is real... and just what, exactly, defines Rocko Daymon.
(Rocko walks to the entrance. The camera fades to black as it pans up to catch the Wrestleverse II banner.)