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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 23 2010, 10:57 PM (77 Views) | |
| Jarvis King | Jan 23 2010, 10:57 PM Post #1 |
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The Hall of Fame Hallmark
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Cain, Cain, Cain, You know, I honestly tortured myself over writing this letter. See, I didn’t want to come off as unoriginal…as stale. I didn’t want people to mistake me for you, Cain. I remember the letter you wrote Chumplin Sahn-I-Am before you won the CWF title. It’s a beautiful title, Cain. I’m looking at it now, its golden reflection dancing on my laptop. I almost feel bad taking the physical belt before I take the title itself from you. I nearly feel regret for making your last weekend as CWF Champion void of the title itself. Of course, that’s only nearly. It’s only almost. See, Alex, you’ve been trying to take something of mine ever since I got under your skin at the beginning of the month, so it’s only fair…but that’s for later. As professional wrestlers, Cain, we tend to be called a lot of things – athletes, modern-day gladiators, celebrities. Do you know what my favorite title I’ve taken on as a wrestler is, Cain? Storyteller. It’s really a beautiful image, isn’t it? We go into the ring and make history; we carve a story out of our own bodies, our very livelihoods formed from the tales we tell in the centre of the ring. Call it romantic, sentimental, or whatever you’d like, but every single time someone like you or I walk through the curtain, we indeed tell a story that will go down in history. I like that concept. History’s a funny thing, though, isn’t it? They say that it’s written by the victors, they say that it’s skewed towards those who are successful and not necessarily the truth. That’s the other point of beauty in our line of work, Cain. There’s no ambiguity. One man has his hand raised at the end of the night. One person walks home champion, another leaves defeated and broken. Cut and dry, plain and simple. The record books don’t lie. So, the obvious question is what will our story be, Alex? How will our match be remembered by those who come after us? What will the books say about January 26th, 2010? It’s a bit of a loaded question, actually. Realistically, you can’t look at our encounter on its own, can you? Our story goes beyond just that one night. It begins much, much earlier than Genesis. It stretches back, Cain. The build to Genesis begins as early as July of 2002, when a young Jarvis King started to train to be a professional wrestler…of course, that’s just a tad overwrought; even I’ll admit that it’s not all about me. No, realistically, the build to Genesis began August the 9th, 2009. Wrestlefest the first. Two very important things happened that night, Cain. On that night, I started the most successful rookie year in CWF history, defeating some chump to be named number one contender to the Rising Star title; and an old legend returned to his home. That night, Cain, you and I both kicked off a very important journey. Neither of us knew it, but we were building something, leading ourselves to a moment that might just be bigger than you or I. It’s almost funny to look at it now, Cain. We were both oblivious to it then, but that night began the road to Genesis. Our interactions were fleeting, Cain. I was a fool, I’ll admit – I allowed my shining star to be shunted to the back-benches of a group that I didn’t need. The Cyndicate and the Insurgency went up and down the road with each other; we bled, you bled. I seem to recall putting an old man through a table, and that old man was too stupid to call it quits there. More chapters in the prequel to Genesis. That night was the single biggest night in my career to that point: Cain, Omega and Elijah versus Chaolin Sahn, Ryan Storm and Jarvis King. I was in the main event, Cain; a place you had been many a time before. I scarcely belonged there – I’ll be the first to admit that I was foolishly confident, and that you did what you could to illustrate that to me. Not many people catch me off guard, Cain, so I’ve never truly forgotten that reverse DDT that you gave me. Of course, I’ve never forgotten whose arm was raised at the end of the night, either. I’ve never forgotten what it tastes like to win in the main event…what it feels like to have the Straightjacket Suplex be the last wrestling move on a telecast. It was a feeling that I knew, Cain, I knew I’d be feeling again. My hand raised, Cain. It was a feeling that you and I both experienced again and again, Cain. You and I are like opposite sides of one coin. You won the World Title and I continued my ascent up the ranks; climbing the ladder towards greatness in the CWF. While you were reliving the glory of days past, I was getting my taste at it for the first time. It tastes sweet, Alex. I know why you claw and dig and scratch at it. I’m driven to the same ends. See, Cain, the CWF title is the plateau, the summit of a mountain that I have to reach. As little as I like any of the former champions: Chaolin Sahn, Victor Quinn and, yeah, even you, that is a class of individuals that I need to be a part of. I need to see my name on that marquee, Cain. I desire it more than anything in this world. It goes without saying that I’m great, but the strange thing is that I’ve never really had a tangible way to prove it, other than my dominance in the ring. You see, as much as I hate you, Cain…I can’t help but respect you. You’re a three-time World Champion, and while I hate you from the top of your head to the bottom of your bike, I know exactly what it takes to get to that place. I know that you didn’t get into the CWF Hall of Fame by accident. I know what it takes to beat the guys that you’ve beaten. It’s this knowledge, this understanding which drives me and makes it that much clearer that I need to beat you to become as infamous as I deserve to be. I’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain, Cain. It’s dangerous what a man as desperate as I am can do. See, I’ve made a career of proving myself, Alex, and this is just another opportunity to prove myself. At Genesis, I start the youth movement that’s been brewing for a while now…I become the youngest CWF champion since the company’s restart this past June and, most importantly, I get to put you away for good, big man. So for months now, I’ve done everything I can to catch the attention of the CWF brass. Cozying up to Rishel, nearly winning Golden Intentions, destroying the hopes and dreams of the Tormented Soul, winning match, after match, after match…I did what it took every time to make sure that I’d shoot my way to the top of that crowded class of contenders. It’s obvious that I was the one who deserved the shot the most – I had been unpinned in almost six months, but there seems to be this sickening obsession with earning title shots these days. I smiled when you won at Frozen Over IV, Cain. That was the moment that I started to see the bigger picture. I could see that we are, in a lot of ways, kindred spirits. It was a moment of pure epiphany; I saw you reclaim your crown for the third time, a title that there was no way for you lose before we met. It was destiny, Cain, an idea that I don’t usually put much stock in. Your tests since that night were dismal at best – the Sub-par Succubus of Suck, Anubis and the Patriarch of Pathetic, Chris Andrews. No, I knew that it would be Jarvis King versus Cain one day, that there wasn’t such a thing as an actual challenge for you, Cain, until I came along. I didn’t know where, I didn’t know when…I just knew. So, I went on to face Chaolin Sahn in the biggest match of my career. It was make or break, Cain. I knew that I had to do more than prove myself that night, I had to excel. I had to show Chaolin that he wasn’t anything resembling my “master” anymore. I had to show RIshel and company that I was the number one contender in the world for the World Title…but most importantly I had to send a message to you. I had to show you that I meant business from the beginning, Cain…and that I did. Just ask Sahn’s much wealthier chiropractor how effective of a professional wrestler I am. Ask him how good I am at inflicting damage. I’m what you might call a student of the game, Cain. I don’t attribute being the best at what I do to pure luck. Sure, I’m more skilled that most of the so-called “talents” that Rishel has put in front of me, but I wouldn’t be anywhere if I didn’t sit back and study tapes. I’ve been watching you very carefully, Alex, for a long time now. In order to beat someone as successful as you are in the ring, I had to figure out a strategy. I’ve watched countless tapes of Alex Cain matches, and with every single match I watched, my grin began to grow. Like I said, Cain, I know that we’re more alike than either of us would like to admit; therefore it won’t be what we have in common that decides this match, but rather, our differences. Know what I began to notice? Besides the obvious points, Cain, like age and sheer in-ring talent being skewed to my favor, I began to see a huge hole in your in-ring game plan: You’re predictable, Cain. Don’t get me wrong, I get it; why alter a winning formula? The Annihilator puts people away, why not use it? This is where our in-ring philosophy differs a bit…where you’d go for the banal, the predictable, the ordinary; I opt for the unexpected, adaptation, the extraordinary. Ask Chaolin Sahn what I bust out when the Straightjacket Suplex fails me. Talk to Franklin Frederickson and Vincent Fail about how I can adapt my finisher to any match-type. Quiz the likes of Tyler Anderson, Mr. Re and Scorpio about my submission expertise. Every match of yours is the same, Alex, while I’m consistently different. You’ve been wrestling the same way that you’ve always wrestled, ever since an idiot with more ambition than brains started up the CWF in the first place, meanwhile I’ve tailored my move set to each and every possibility. I’m all about evolution, and you’re nothing but a fossil. You begin to notice patterns when you study something closely like I have been. You’ve got this cute “Little Engine that Could” quality to you. For weeks you live in doubt about your own abilities, calling into question your nature at its most essential; you break yourself down to build yourself up again. It’s an interesting strategy, really…you go into every match without any real expectations for yourself. You think you can, you think you can, you think you can until you know that you can. Inspiring, I guess. This is yet another place where we differ: when you’re whining about not being able to beat the big bad Enigma of Entertainment, I’m confident that I’ve already basically won. The other thing I noticed was the amount of focus you put into every single match. Nothing’s ever truly personal with you, Cain. Your match with Chris Andrews was an exercise in friendly business. Even with Chaolin Sahn, a man you hate, it was more about principle than real animosity. For a man your size, you don’t hate easily. Wrestling’s about half physical and half mental – and I’m not talking about how you have to be half mental if you think you’re going to beat me on Tuesday. Mind games, Cain, are a part of the game…a big one. So yeah, I started to get into your head. I’m not sure what really started to break you; I think I like it that way…but I was disappointed that it was only your estranged wife that made cracks appear. I was hoping to have to go to your son or maybe even your friends. No matter, I got under your skin, regardless of how unsatisfying it proved to be. You played into my hands, Cain. Of course I knew that you’d try to fight back, targeting my weaker little brother as a way to try to get to me…but did it get to me? Check back on the tapes, Cain. I was angry, but I always managed to one-up you again and again. I really, honestly didn’t think that you’d fall for a number of my plans, but then again, I’ve apparently always given you more credit than you deserve. Really though, you falling for the Ryan Storm ruse was one thing, but the crowning jewel was definitely when you signed that contract when I wasn’t even in the room. There’s only really one thing that you can trust Jarvis King to do, and that’s win. I don’t subscribe to any sort of philosophy that would prevent that from happening, Cain. So yeah, you tried to take away my dignity. You tried to get under my skin, to make this personal for me…newsflash: it’s not going to work. I’ve been the master manipulator from the beginning, Alex. You tried to throw me off, but much like your little nostalgia trip that you call a career revival, it was less than a success. I won’t lie, it has been trying from time to time. I lost a $3000 suit. I discovered my brother cleaning a toilet with my toothbrush. I’ve had to listen to more of your promos and watch more of your backstage bullshit than I care to. I have to hear about how you and Ian are the best of friends more times than I care to admit…but it’s all going to be worth it, Cain. See, all of this was nothing short of a prequel for the main event. So, with all that behind us, we approach Genesis. Our story is about to reach its climax. I’ve seen the ending, Cain…it doesn’t look good for you. Think back to other stories similar to ours. I think back to 2002: A future movie star, a true Icon took on a man who was pure Hollywood. I think to 2005, when a young soldier took on an empire. It was never the establishment that took home the glory, Alex. It was a passing of the torch in each of those situations. It’s my turn to have that torch, but I’m not going to wait for you to pass it on – I’m taking it. Rationalize it however you want, Cain, an Iron Man Match might be the end of you. It’s kind of the beauty of the whole thing from my perspective – you’re not the man you once were. You can take the first fall…the first five, even, and it won’t really matter, because as time goes on, it becomes my match. Ten minutes in, conditioning starts to become a factor. Twenty minutes, fatigue has really set in. Thirty minutes, you begin to realize that a match with Jarvis King is more than you can handle. Forty, you wonder why you wrestle in the first place. Fifty, the world starts to go dark. Sixty, you’re looking up at the lights, wondering exactly where you are and what went wrong. Cain, before you step into the ring with me, I want you to do a big favor for me: hug your son. Make peace with him. Have a cookie from the crackwhore, Omega. Talk pop-philosophy with Elijah and do whatever it is that you do with Angel. Make sure that you enjoy everyone in your world that matters to you one last time. I really, honestly mean it. See, when I want something, I do everything in my power to get It. You’ve been experiencing that with my quest for the CWF title…but to be honest, this is about more than the title. I want to cripple you, Cain. I want to destroy your livelihood so that I never, ever have to hear the roar of your stupid little Harley. I never want to hear the phrase “Alex Cain wins” or “The Living Legend Rides” again. I want to shame you, Cain. I want to beat you so badly that you never, ever have the courage to show up in a ring again. In short, I want to wipe you from history’s pages. I want to defy the rules of wrestling history and show that to the victor goes the spoils. I want to make my name at your expense; I want the future of the CWF to be built on the back of Jarvis King. I want to take the name Alex Cain and add it to Tom Hart, Vincent Vail, Victor Quinn and James Clark. I want to end you. Don’t get me wrong. I fully acknowledge that while you’re not the man you used to be, you’re still more man than most. I know that I’ve got a tough-as-nails row to hoe, as the phrase goes. Don’t think that I’m looking past you, Cain, to a destiny that’s ahead. No, no, no; I’m just acknowledging something that I know to be pure fact: I am better than you. I’m greatness in a Gucci suit. I’m perfection personified. Pay per View is my playground. It’s where I thrive. Already, I’ve etched a reputation into the minds of wrestling fans and wrestlers alike. It’s where I made my debut; it’s where I damn near put Franklin Frederickson into a wheelchair. On Pay per View, I superplexed Vincent Vail into a pile of tacks. I ended the championship hopes of one of the company’s most notorious champions. It’s where I debuted both the Straightjacket Suplex and the Swissplex. It’s where I’ve made my bacon, Cain, and Genesis will be no different. I’m better than you on your best day, Cain; how do you expect to step up against me on mine? To a certain extent, I suppose it’s just flat-out unfair. A younger, more intelligent, faster, more talented, better looking and more virile version of yourself is about to replace you. You’re a wounded, bloody swimmer in a shark infested sea, and the clock is only working against you at this point. There is no shoreline, there is no respite. There is only pain, Alex, and it’s all yours. Your blood is in the water. The feeding frenzy is about to begin. Beginning. That’s what this is really all about, isn’t it? That’s precisely what Genesis is, a beginning. Genesis is derived from the Greek word for birth, origin, cause, source and, of course, beginning. In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth. Genesis is the book of the Bible that describes a brand new world…it’s almost sickeningly apt, isn’t it? Here we are, on the verge of my Genesis and your Revelations, Cain. There’s a song, you’ve probably heard it, by Semisonic called “Closing Time”. Epitome of one hit wonderdom, but that’s not really what I’m talking about. See, there’s a line in the song’s lyrics that talks about beginnings. It says that every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. We’ve reached that crucial point for you, Cain. So, Cain, as I sit here with the CWF title glistening on my shoulder, I’ve come to realize that I’m frankly already the champion in all but name. You can get yourself psyched up whatever way you choose, Cain. Spar with whoever you want. Get yelled at by whoever you choose…but the little ways that you tweak and torture your own body only serve to hurt you in the long run. Like I said, we have a lot in common, you and I. We’re both proud, damn stubborn and successful. Neither of us know when to quit and we’re not without our individual bits of baggage…but there’s an incredibly critical difference between the two of us. One of us is Jarvis King, and I’m certain that will be the difference. See you Tuesday, big man, Jarvis Jay King CWF’s Next Champion |
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