Post by HALE BLACK SATIN on Nov 19, 2015 14:26:50 GMT -6
There was so much that everyone didn’t see because I didn’t want them to see. But underneath the large exterior, buried deep underneath the smile there was so much more.
I held onto so much rage.
I harbored so much anger.
I contained so much hate.
And I bottled it up because I didn’t know how to effectively unleash it all without tearing down an entire building from the inside out. I had my own demons, my own monsters that I dealt with on a constant basis but yet I didn’t trust anyone enough to really comprehend where I was coming from or what I was all about. When I first arrived, I thought it would be Vivienne and Simon, but that proved to be a bit more tumultuous than anything else. And if anything, it only drove me deeper into my own self-imposed isolation.
There was Carey and Gunnar, the War Machines, but yet as much as I considered them my boys…there was always something just holding me back. Maybe I wasn’t giving them a chance…but when you’re standing over six feet six inches and your touching three-hundred pounds…you feel as if you can carry the world on your shoulders. I’ve been doing it for so long, I doubt I even know what it’s like to really walk around with anything on my shoulders at all. But tonight, my own demons and monsters were getting the best of me and it left me with a restless sleep that I couldn’t shake.
Thankfully Carey gave me my own key to Warehouse for the moments when I needed to escape the World for whatever reason or another. I had carved out my own little corner just for myself and with the help of my own old man I was able to score a set of dumbbells and even hang 200 pound heavy bag, hanging down from a rafters from a long chain. The two walls of the corner of the Warehouse was covered with two large mirrors as I was able to look up at my reflection even in the darkened warehouse before turning on a few spotlights throughout the Warehouse. It wasn’t the best equipment in the world but it did the job and tonight, it wasn’t about being pretty. I just needed something I could hit…and hit hard again and again…
…and again.
I dropped the black duffel bag at my feet on the large rubberized tiles on the floor before taking a seat on the red padded bench behind me. I reached into the black duffel bag to pull out the black wraps that would cover my knuckles all the way towards my large wrists, wrapping my hands and wrists became second nature after my father taught me the ends and outs of boxing before I committed myself to football. And yet through it all when I was alone and I felt as if I was backed into a corner…I found myself back in front of a punching bag, swinging away. Tonight wouldn’t be any different as I looked down pulling the elastic fabric tightly around my hands and wrists, occasionally creating a large fist to make sure that I still had adequate circulation in my fingers before securing the wrap to itself with the small piece of Velcro at the end. The other hand and wrist was wrapped just as well before I finally stood to my feet and reached down to pull the War Machine t-shirt off and over my head only to drop it over the black duffel bag. For a moment, I stared at myself in the large full length mirror as I rolled my large shoulders forward. I had spent years working on the physical…building myself up, breaking myself down, only build myself up once again.
But through my first year in REVO, I always felt something was missing…I just didn’t know what it was, as if something was holding me back and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure it out.
With several steps forward I found myself in front of the red canvas heavy bag and placed my left hand flat on the bag. Feeling the imperfections of the canvas from years of abuse, the quick stitch jobs, feeling the softening spots in the bag were after years of hooks, jabs, uppercuts, and crosses found their mark. In its own way, it was beautiful in a strange type of way. It was built to take the punishment, built to abuse, and yet it continued to come back for more and never complain. I slowly closed my eyes and let out a soft sigh before balling my right hand into a large fist and driving it hard into the side of the heavy bag with a grunt. I could feel the sand shift slightly underneath the force of my punch and the small tinge of pain slide across my knuckles upon impact.
The risk you took from hitting a heavy bag without gloves.
“Let’s go ahead and get something straight…”
“This Call Your Shot business at the Autumn Effect…”
“...this isn’t a Carey Caldwell thing.”
“This isn’t a Gunner Stahl thing.”
“This isn’t a War Machine Thing.”
“This is -my- thing.”
“This is a Naiser King thing because it’s not something I have to do, it’s something that I want to do because I feel like it.”
“Because I’m getting tired of having to sit in the back night after night in REVO and be known as one of ‘Carey’s Boys’ and wait for my chance at whatever glory that Darrin Stearns decides to bestow on me while I watch the likes of Caleb Storm, Isaac Solo, and whatever Tom, Dick, and Harry comes along and is the new flavor of the month at the time. And I hear the whispers...I hear the gossip, I hear them all around corners thinking that they are away from prying eyes and listening ears.”
“When will Naiser ever break out?”
“Where’s his aggressive streak?”
“Can he even stand on his two feet?”
I took a step back away from the heavy bag for a moment and delivers a straight left jab that pops against the canvas of the bag, making it sway back slightly.
“So that’s exactly what I’m going do. I’m going to arrive in the Autumn Effect and I’m go to the thing the one thing that nobody on the Exodus Pro or the Revo roster expects me to do.”
“...and I’m going to win the whole goddamn thing.”
“And this isn’t for the War Machines, this isn’t for Revo.”
“It’s going to be me against all the odds because it wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”
“So bring ‘em on. Bring ‘em all on.”
“Vivienne.”
“The Reeds...all Aries, Darius, Cassius, Bianca and whoever else they want to pull out of the family tree.”
“mara.”
“And whatever little surprises that comes along the way.”
“Bring them all on because when it’s all said and done...you will all remember the third Autumn Effect, not because of whoever is the Exodus Pro Champion, the International Champion, or the Revo Champion..”
Slowly shaking my head before turning around to look square into the camera. Beads of sweat glisten on my brow from underneath the low lights in the Warehouse as my shoulder rise and fall slowly with each deep breath from my flared nostrils.
“...but it’ll be the day where Naiser King made you all take notice and made you fully understand who the -fuck- I am.”
Fade.
I held onto so much rage.
I harbored so much anger.
I contained so much hate.
And I bottled it up because I didn’t know how to effectively unleash it all without tearing down an entire building from the inside out. I had my own demons, my own monsters that I dealt with on a constant basis but yet I didn’t trust anyone enough to really comprehend where I was coming from or what I was all about. When I first arrived, I thought it would be Vivienne and Simon, but that proved to be a bit more tumultuous than anything else. And if anything, it only drove me deeper into my own self-imposed isolation.
There was Carey and Gunnar, the War Machines, but yet as much as I considered them my boys…there was always something just holding me back. Maybe I wasn’t giving them a chance…but when you’re standing over six feet six inches and your touching three-hundred pounds…you feel as if you can carry the world on your shoulders. I’ve been doing it for so long, I doubt I even know what it’s like to really walk around with anything on my shoulders at all. But tonight, my own demons and monsters were getting the best of me and it left me with a restless sleep that I couldn’t shake.
Thankfully Carey gave me my own key to Warehouse for the moments when I needed to escape the World for whatever reason or another. I had carved out my own little corner just for myself and with the help of my own old man I was able to score a set of dumbbells and even hang 200 pound heavy bag, hanging down from a rafters from a long chain. The two walls of the corner of the Warehouse was covered with two large mirrors as I was able to look up at my reflection even in the darkened warehouse before turning on a few spotlights throughout the Warehouse. It wasn’t the best equipment in the world but it did the job and tonight, it wasn’t about being pretty. I just needed something I could hit…and hit hard again and again…
…and again.
I dropped the black duffel bag at my feet on the large rubberized tiles on the floor before taking a seat on the red padded bench behind me. I reached into the black duffel bag to pull out the black wraps that would cover my knuckles all the way towards my large wrists, wrapping my hands and wrists became second nature after my father taught me the ends and outs of boxing before I committed myself to football. And yet through it all when I was alone and I felt as if I was backed into a corner…I found myself back in front of a punching bag, swinging away. Tonight wouldn’t be any different as I looked down pulling the elastic fabric tightly around my hands and wrists, occasionally creating a large fist to make sure that I still had adequate circulation in my fingers before securing the wrap to itself with the small piece of Velcro at the end. The other hand and wrist was wrapped just as well before I finally stood to my feet and reached down to pull the War Machine t-shirt off and over my head only to drop it over the black duffel bag. For a moment, I stared at myself in the large full length mirror as I rolled my large shoulders forward. I had spent years working on the physical…building myself up, breaking myself down, only build myself up once again.
But through my first year in REVO, I always felt something was missing…I just didn’t know what it was, as if something was holding me back and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure it out.
With several steps forward I found myself in front of the red canvas heavy bag and placed my left hand flat on the bag. Feeling the imperfections of the canvas from years of abuse, the quick stitch jobs, feeling the softening spots in the bag were after years of hooks, jabs, uppercuts, and crosses found their mark. In its own way, it was beautiful in a strange type of way. It was built to take the punishment, built to abuse, and yet it continued to come back for more and never complain. I slowly closed my eyes and let out a soft sigh before balling my right hand into a large fist and driving it hard into the side of the heavy bag with a grunt. I could feel the sand shift slightly underneath the force of my punch and the small tinge of pain slide across my knuckles upon impact.
The risk you took from hitting a heavy bag without gloves.
“Let’s go ahead and get something straight…”
“This Call Your Shot business at the Autumn Effect…”
“...this isn’t a Carey Caldwell thing.”
“This isn’t a Gunner Stahl thing.”
“This isn’t a War Machine Thing.”
“This is -my- thing.”
“This is a Naiser King thing because it’s not something I have to do, it’s something that I want to do because I feel like it.”
“Because I’m getting tired of having to sit in the back night after night in REVO and be known as one of ‘Carey’s Boys’ and wait for my chance at whatever glory that Darrin Stearns decides to bestow on me while I watch the likes of Caleb Storm, Isaac Solo, and whatever Tom, Dick, and Harry comes along and is the new flavor of the month at the time. And I hear the whispers...I hear the gossip, I hear them all around corners thinking that they are away from prying eyes and listening ears.”
“When will Naiser ever break out?”
“Where’s his aggressive streak?”
“Can he even stand on his two feet?”
I took a step back away from the heavy bag for a moment and delivers a straight left jab that pops against the canvas of the bag, making it sway back slightly.
“So that’s exactly what I’m going do. I’m going to arrive in the Autumn Effect and I’m go to the thing the one thing that nobody on the Exodus Pro or the Revo roster expects me to do.”
“...and I’m going to win the whole goddamn thing.”
“And this isn’t for the War Machines, this isn’t for Revo.”
“It’s going to be me against all the odds because it wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”
“So bring ‘em on. Bring ‘em all on.”
“Vivienne.”
“The Reeds...all Aries, Darius, Cassius, Bianca and whoever else they want to pull out of the family tree.”
“mara.”
“And whatever little surprises that comes along the way.”
“Bring them all on because when it’s all said and done...you will all remember the third Autumn Effect, not because of whoever is the Exodus Pro Champion, the International Champion, or the Revo Champion..”
Slowly shaking my head before turning around to look square into the camera. Beads of sweat glisten on my brow from underneath the low lights in the Warehouse as my shoulder rise and fall slowly with each deep breath from my flared nostrils.
“...but it’ll be the day where Naiser King made you all take notice and made you fully understand who the -fuck- I am.”
Fade.