March of War
Jafreese Frazier vs. Daniel Prophet
February 10, 2013
RIMAC Arena
January 27th, 2013
3:22pm
Jafreese Frazier: What's in it for me?
Jonathan Collins: Focus. Maybe a little bit of direction. Plus, maybe it's time you found someone who really believes you can be bigger and better. I wouldn't have inked you if I didn't think you had skills, so give me a shot. You might be surprised.
Frazier stops for a moment, thinks, and after a moment...nods, extending his hand. Without hesitation, Jon shakes it and uses his other hand to pat Fraizer's shoulder.
Jonathan Collins: Good. We start tomorrow.
Collins grins and gives him a nod before walking off.
Seth Ericson: What the hell did Deathgrip just get himself into?
-*-The door closes and Frazier leans himself against one of the walls of the locker room while appearing to get himself lost in a deep thought process. -*-
What the hell happened? I’m here sitting in this filthy locker room after slugging it out against the waste of space they call Daniel Prophet, and all of the sudden I agree on being mentored by Jonathan Collins. Why did I do that? Is that part of my humanity? The humanity that I wanted to bury deep inside my soul and swore with my life to never show it to anyone? I am who I am…or that is what I thought. Why did I agree to this? I don’t want to change. I don’t want to be a better man. I don’t NEED to be a better man. I don’t want focus. I don’t want direction. I like tasting the blood of my opponents. I like to watch them agonize in beautiful pain. It…it fills me. It makes me…it makes me the monster that I am. It…it makes me satisfied. Why do I need focus and direction?
I should have kicked Collins’s head out of his body the minute he entered here. I should have taken said head, go out to the ring and place it on one of those ring posts, so that everyone knows I’m a force not to be messed with. I’m not even joking. I feel that need right on my heart. You can’t change the unchangeable. I’m a lost cause, a lost soul…a damaged soul. I roam through the Earth inflicting pain because it soothes my own. I don’t train to be better. I don’t work out to get more “technical”…I train to be unstoppable. Why do you want to stop the unstoppable Collins, why?
I’ve been unstoppable my whole life. I don’t want to be a playful young boy who competes for the affection of the fans. Those fans didn’t even go through the misery I went through. I bet Jonathan Collins did not go through the misery I went through. Nobody on this planet has been through what I’ve been through. Daniel Prophet? He’s just a grain of salt on my way to immortality… a miserable pawn in my chess game to freedom. Someone is going to get hurt soon enough…soon enough…someone will be put to sleep…------------------
-*- The cameras are on. Quickly we can see Deathgrip walking with a hoodie on and some black sweatpants. After walking for a while he stops suddenly and looks at what’s in front of him. The camera zooms out to reveal a pretty nifty Gym in an unknown place. He stands there looking while taking a paper out of his pocket. He reads the paper and then looks around him, putting back the paper on his pocket. While still looking at the gym, he starts to talk in a paused and confident way.-*-
"Other people would be mad."
"Other people would be crying and moaning about injustice, foul play, or something else."
"Other people would be worried about not getting it done a second time."
"Other people…well, let’s just say… they are not ME."
-*-Frazier looks back at the camera and continues.-*-
"My kind of fight finally falls right on my lap for the March of War, Supercard that looks to be a big deal for the company, but to me, it will only be the setting for the demise of the one named Daniel Prophet. This only means one thing; Deathgrip needs to get his repertoire of pain ready to face this clown once again in a rematch in which there are no…”count-outs”."
-*-Frazier looks at the floor mad and then slowly rises up his head with a sadistic grin.-*-
"Oh, you little wrestling buffoons with your little technicalities. “Count-outs”…this is the technical term of what came between me and a victory this past Sunday. I guess you already know that Deathgrip and technicalities are like water and oil. I just want to get in the ring and do what I do best, and that’s make people suffer. I just want to hurt you for good, Daniel. I don’t want to see your stinking face in my path any longer. I want to obliterate you, just make you disappear for good. I want to plaster your blood all over the ring and stand still in the middle of it, admiring my work like it was some sort of abstract painting for thoughts that are only known and lived by me. I know you are stupid enough to sign your Death Sentence contract to face me again, but I don’t know if you are stupid enough to not know when to quit. This upcoming match won’t make your life or your joke of a career any easier. This match won’t make your life more beautiful or bring peace to it. This match won’t be a paradise vacation of bright sun and birds chirping. This match is hell because I plan to unleash it right here on March of War."
-*-Frazier’s grin turns to uneasiness as he looks at the gym door once again. He takes a peek once again to the paper on his pocket and returns it.-*-
"Before I fought you, Prophet…you were the mat in which everyone step their foot on. That was your…”thing”. They cleaned their wrestling boots with your face and you just lie down and took it. They kicked your ass all over the RIMAC Arena week after week and you just bent over and took it. I don’t know what makes you think that you’re not the same doormat you were a couple of months ago, but I’m sure as hell you will feel like that once again when I finish your pathetic little drama in the middle of the ring. I don’t care for stories Daniel. I don’t care about your past or all the struggles you have been through. I care for steamrolling you and make it crystal clear that you are absolutely nothing. You’re not even worth the fists that are going to land in your face on Sunday. You’re not worth of the kicks that are going to damage your ability of movement this Sunday. I’m going to bring you back to your origins, bring you back to your roots. Daniel Prophet will be the same joke he has always been and I’ll be more than happy to laugh after I’m finished with you."
-*-Frazier glances over the Gym door once again. This time he holds on looking for a great deal of time before looking intensely at the camera.-*-
"Forget about Legion…forget about the world…forget about Jonathan Collins. It’s you, me, and the disaster that I’ll rain upon you so bad; you’ll realize who the real bitch here is. I’m not Jonathan Collins bitch, Daniel…"
-*- Frazier takes one step to the camera.-*-
"After March of War, YOU WILL be the bitch…"
-*-Frazier smiles-*-
"DEATHGRIP’S BITCH…"
-*-Jafreese Frazier looks at the gym door once again. He takes several steps towards it. After staring at it for a long time, he decides to knock on the door. He waits several seconds before changing plans and walking out. Suddenly the door opens and out of it comes Jonathan Collins. -*-
Collins: Hey! Frazier!
-*-Frazier stops and looks over his shoulder.-*-
Collins: Where are you going? I have been expecting you. Come on in. We got work to do.
-*- Frazier looks forward to where he was going and stays like that for a while. He takes a deep breath and enters through the door Jonathan Collins was holding open. Collins smirks as Frazier enters, but Frazier doesn’t make any eye contact. Collins looks around on the outside and closes the door before the cameras start to fade.-*-