Post by Deleted on Jan 29, 2013 21:10:24 GMT -6
“I wanted to thank you for coming out here, Jimmy.”
Rufus Frost turned away from one of the windows in his office. It was a weird one. His office was wedged between two parts of the casino his family's company owned. On one side was the poker room, full of high rollers who were spending exorbitant amounts of money on their self-assured skills. On the other, one of Las Vegas' most exclusive night clubs. Rufus controlled a small empire that was entirely located on the strip...but his latest venture had taken him to San Diego.
There, one could find the small office of EXODUS Pro Wrestling, Frost's joint venture with Jonathan Collins. And that venture is how Rufus came into contact with the man sitting in a very plush chair when he turned around, Jimmy Riley. Riley had been in the same independent promotion as Collins mere months before this day, and the two, along with EXODUS International Champion Fiona Rourke, formed The Marauders and ran wild across the state of Tennessee.
But times weren't always good; not counting Riley suffering a fractured elbow that put him out of action, multiple instances of politics and favoritism sent The Marauders out of work. Collins sought out Rufus Frost to begin EXODUS. While Fiona became a competitor, Riley stepped behind the curtain; his elbow hadn't fully healed before returning to the ring, and he wasn't confident that he could have the same success. But the fire still existed in the pit of Riley's stomach...and that's why Rufus Frost called him from his current home in Nashville to Vegas.
“Oh, it's no problem at all, Rufus. I'm just wondering what it could be that has me out here,” Riley leaned back into his chair. “I thought you and Gadlin had this investigation handled.”
Riley referred to the current happenings in EXODUS; mysterious videotapes surfacing, following Jonathan Collins and his daughter, the EXODUS roster, and even Rufus himself. Frost's response had been to investigate the matter himself, alongside UCSD (Univ. of California San Diego, where EXODUS' shows take place) representative Stewart Gadlin. The two were scheduled to report their findings at the next EXODUS show...on January 27.
“That's handled, actually. I wanted to talk about you, actually,” Rufus said as he sat down behind his desk. It was large, Jimmy noted mentally; a little too big, he thought. “Jon and Fiona tell me...you're interested in getting back into the ring.”
This was news to Jimmy Riley. He leaned forward in his chair.
“You...they...I haven't said anything to them.”
“They just know you well, apparently,” Rufus noted. “But regardless. You are interested?”
“Yeah...just-” Riley paused. “I see what's happening with Fiona, and what's happening with Jon, and I don't want to make it worse.”
Not only were Jon and Fiona being stalked by an unknown entity (actually, make that two for Collins; he has someone else stalking him and Madison), but they also had the pair of Kliff Ulysses and Daisuke Iwakuma after them in EXODUS. Riley clearly didn't want any part of that.
“I understand, and trust me; if I could keep everyone safe, I would. You yourself had a run-in with Iwakuma at the last E-Pro TV.”
Riley winced. Caught off guard by Iwakuma and his cousin, Itsumo Ichi, he was dropped at the feet of Fiona a bloody mess. As much as he wanted revenge on the two of them, Jimmy was restrained by company policy; no staff member could intentionally physically harm a contracted competitor. It was a policy that had a bigger effect on Ulysses, who wanted a piece of Director Jonathan Collins.
“I did. I guess that's got some frustration built up in me right now,” Riley said. “But how exactly do you have an idea?”
Rufus stood up, and began pacing around the room slowly.
“When I started EXODUS with Jon, I don't think either of us expected the reaction of the wrestling world, at-large. You're already familiar with the promotions we're working with? Platinum Dynasty in Philadelphia, and Frontier Grappling Arts in the Northeast?”
Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, you mentioned them at TV.”
“Well, we've got a new potential partner. In the United Kingdom, we're in talks with Pro Wrestling FRONTIER. They're probably the biggest wrestling promotion in England right now.”
“...I'll be honest, Rufus, I've never been to England, I don't know that I'd be comfortable going over there full time.”
Rufus stopped, looking out over the nightclub below. As he talked, he didn't turn to face the only other person in the office.
“That's the beauty of it, Jimmy. They're doing a special event; an...well, they're calling it an 'open house.'” He glanced over his shoulder. “I thought it would be a good idea to send someone from EXODUS over there to showcase. But...it's on the 27th.”
Riley now rose from his chair, but made no moves toward his boss.
“That's an unfortunate situation...but you want me to head over there? What about the investigation? What about Daisuke and Kliff? What about-”
“You need to be away from those two,” Rufus interrupted. “They laid you out, I'm sure you're angry about it. I saw a lot of it in New Era Wrestling. People like Trevor Wrath and Andrew Ashton, they'd get laid out, but they would be there, the next week, and it was hard to keep them in check.”
Jimmy nodded.
“I get it. And you're right, it's probably best for me to not be in San Diego with all the things going on. I guess I'm just worried that they're going to use all of this uneasiness, with the stalking, with Jon being on edge, and now with me gone...to have a big plan.”
This time it was Rufus' turn to shake his head. “I've got that part under control,” he said as he turned back to face Jimmy. “Don't worry about Daisuke and Kliff. Take the next week, spend some time worrying about yourself, then head to England. There's a title shot and a ten thousand pound prize in it for the winner.”
Jimmy lightened up a little bit at that news. “That's a nice chunk of change. What, about...”
“Fifteen, almost sixteen grand over here. Did the math for you.”
His eyes widened. “You don't pay chump change, but the ability to potentially make that much in one night? That's a nice vacation for me and Mary.”
Rufus smiled. “So you'll take it?”
“Rufus, right now I'd take a booking in Thailand if it would pay that much.”
“...The Thai don't pay nearly as much.”
A couple of days later, Jimmy found himself using the facilities of the apartment complex he was living in. He had been in Nashville now for the better part of six months. The first month was one to two nights a week, staying in the apartment Jonathan and his daughter had taken to renting. He would fly into town, stay there for a night, then the two of them (and later, Fiona as well) would head down to Knoxville for a TV taping.
It was in Knoxville that he met Mary Simons; she was the night receptionist in the hotel he was staying in each weekend...but only until getting back to Nashville. There, he found, she was beginning work on a law degree. The two became close fairly quickly, and after Mary subleased her part of an apartment, the two got a larger apartment together. With his career only requiring bi-weekly trips to San Diego, the two were able to spend more time together than usual.
This morning found her in class, and Jimmy on a treadmill. The weather having recently turned cold, he was alone in the workout room, his additional layers of warm clothing hung on the treadmill next to him as he ran. With the headphones secured tightly over his ears, he was oblivious to the world around him; that would prove to be important as two men, both dressed in tailored suits, entered the door behind him. They quickly realized they didn't need to be stealthy, and moved to each side of the treadmill line. The two were nearly converged on Jimmy before he realized what was happening.
“WHAT'S HAPPENING, GUYS?” The music was clearly affecting his speech volume, as each man stepped on to a surrounding treadmill. One motioned for Jimmy to remove his headphones. He did, but continued jogging.
“Mr. Riley,” the one on his left began, “We represent Mr. Alistair Moore. I assume you're familiar with him?”
Riley's face went blank, though his legs never stopped moving. “I'm aware. I thought I was done with him; warned not to go back to Ellum. ...I'm keeping up my part of the bargain.”
The one on the right shook his head. “Unfortunately for you, the terms of your agreement with him and Mr. Williams have changed. You're being deemed...responsible...for the debts your father owed to Mr. Moore.”
“I'm not sure I understand,” Jimmy replied. “He's perfectly capable of paying his own debts, wherever he is. Furthermore, I don't know that tidbit. I've tried my best to avoid him since...well, since before I learned about this.”
The one on the left crossed his arms. “Mr. Riley is missing...and until he's found, you're on the hook.”
“I'm not interested in picking up his tab.” Jimmy had long since washed his hands of his father, long before he learned of his business dealings with Alistair Moore, his lawyer Everett Williams, and Hal Snyder; the latter of which was indirectly causing problems for Jonathan Collins back in San Diego.
“Then consider this your final warning. The next time Mr. Moore sends us, this encounter won't be so polite.”
“If this is polite, guys, then I shudder to think how you deal with family.”
The one on the right frowned, “We'll leave you to your business...but before long, you'll be our business. You don't want that. Have a good day.”
The two walked off, leaving as quietly as they had entered, and as the door closed, Jimmy put his headphones back on. Cardio wasn't going to train itself.
The White Phoenix Training School was renowned for its output; in the early-mid 2000s, it produced the Ashton brothers; Timothy, Aaron, and (most notably) Andrew all went on to become World Champions at some point, while youngest brother Corey would hold multiple secondary titles throughout the decade. The last wrestling student to come out of the school, however, was Jimmy Riley.
Its location in Nashville was merely a coincidence to his relocation, however; the school had long since been sold off, its new owners keeping the name, but moving to a mixed martial arts focus. Still, with the connection to its original owner and operator, they considered all students of his able to come and go freely. This trip, however, was to use a side room to film a short promo. A black curtain is hung in the background, and Jimmy Riley is up close to the camera, making sure it's set up properly so as to keep him in frame.
“Aaaaand... there we go! Done!”
He steps back, clears his throat, and counts down from five on his right hand before starting. He's wearing a pair of blue jeans, and presumably a t-shirt, but it's obscured by a dark blue Nashville Predators hooded sweatshirt. The hood is down, and his hands are by his sides.
“I guess the first thing I want to do is apologize. I don't have anything fancy to tell you about me; no media conference...I'm not a big enough name for that. No dark rooms...I like light too much. No animal corpses hanging from the ceiling...I like my meat medium-well. But...
He paused, thinking of how to continue. First thought? Empty threats to people he doesn't know. Second? Endless babble, meaning nothing. Third, and correct? A history lesson.
“The last time I stood in front of a camera and talked, it was for a completely different reason. I, like many others, was preparing for a match; in this case, a tag team title match just a few hours away in Knoxville, Tennessee. I sat on a bed, held a camera up in front of my face, and talked about two guys who, for all intents and purposes, were inferior to me. That turned out to be the case, but soon after, myself...Fiona Rourke...and Jonathan Collins, the three of us known as The Marauders, found ourselves on the outside looking in.
He looked down for a minute, possibly contemplating if he had made the right decision.
“Politics. That's what pushed us out...well, what pushed them out. I was swept up for the ride. Fast forward a few months...and now here I am.
He looks up again at the camera. His face is a little somber, for reasons he's to explain.
“Jonathan...he has the position of Director in EXODUS Pro. He's running the show, he's the face of the company, moreso than Rufus Frost, who owns it, or the currently vacated spot of champion. In the stead of that champion, Fiona Rourke is the EXODUS International Champion. She's the in-ring face of the company, and she carries the role well. ...Me? I'm somewhere in between; sitting behind the curtain, tasked with the role of keeping the show on point, making sure everyone is where they're supposed to be.
Riley shakes his head.
“That's not what I came back for. See, I thought I was done with pro wrestling. I had my fill, I was never going to be the 'big star' I thought I...at the time, should've been, but realize now it was a could've been. I left, I went home, I became successful doing something else. It was the two of them that pulled me back into a ring, and the two of them that propped me up and realized that I could be something, someone that was successful at wrestling. So to see the two of them thrive, and be sitting behind a curtain...it's kind of eye opening.
“That's why I took this chance, that's why I jumped on this opportunity. Pro Wrestling FRONTIER's Open House 2. A battle royal, open to all comers, and the prize is that much sweeter; ten thousand English pounds, and a shot at the GFC World Heavyweight Championship. I couldn't think of a better time to step outside the United States. To step into a foreign land, to step inside of a foreign wrestling ring, and to make my name known in an entirely new country. Does that make it easy?
He grins.
“Of course not! Look at the names, hell, look at the FRONTIER names alone; Osborne, Jones, Talbot, Pride, these guys are known commodities in the UK. CJ Osborne and Alex Jones are both former GFC Champions! Then to add in names like Chandler Scott, half of the Harvard Connection and former FGA Heavyweight Champion? Former MWA World Champion Lito Kruz? Angelica Jones, a bonafide legend from GDW? I mean...
Jimmy almost breaks out laughing.
“Who the hell am I? Seriously! Look at that list of names, that's not even getting into the likes of Madman Szalinski, Adam Stryker, or Troy Gafgen! I'm just some punk who's held a couple of minor titles. I'm just some kid who took years off to be a personal trainer. I'm just some loudmouth who's taking himself to England in hopes of stealing a win or two. What chance do I have of winning a battle royal this big?
The laughing stops. Jimmy Riley's face grows just a little bit in confidence, and he takes a moment to make small paces in the camera frame.
“By my count...pretty good. See, I may not know a lot about each individual wrestler in this match, I know enough about myself. I know that my style of wrestling is pretty conducive to staying on the ground. I know that I've got more than few tricks up my sleeve...that I'm not above bending a rule or two to stay ahead once I'm there. And I've got the hunger factor. See, that's something I don't think a lot of you have; maybe Osborne or Jones have it. They've held that GFC title above their heads, around their waists. They want it again. But Kruz or Jones? They've held what I'm sure they consider bigger titles. What's a paltry 15 thousand American dollars to a pair of well-off legends like them? Or Chandler Scott...he's here for the payday, sure, but what about his calling back home? He's a tag team guy now, he'd be better off coming to my house in San Diego for a shot at tag gold.
He stops, looking at the camera, now a stern look across his face; lips are pulled into a thin, tight line, eyes are narrowed.
“Me? I want that World Title. I want that cash prize. I want the glory that comes with it, and I want all of it...more than a lot of you. The ones who might want it more? Those are the kind of people I can beat. Because they're desperate for it. Desperate for fame, desperate for fortune, desperate...to be relevant. They want that win, they crave that win...and they'll be far more willing to take risks to get there. So when the lot of us step into that ring in Croydon, in the Fairfields Hall, with the title shot and the money up for grabs?
Riley's face lightens up just a little bit.
“I'm in the right spot at the right time, looks like. You boys and girls saddle up, because Jimmy Riley's coming to town, and it's gonna be a wild night.”
With that, Jimmy steps back forward to the camera, fiddling with it for a moment before cutting to black.
Rufus Frost turned away from one of the windows in his office. It was a weird one. His office was wedged between two parts of the casino his family's company owned. On one side was the poker room, full of high rollers who were spending exorbitant amounts of money on their self-assured skills. On the other, one of Las Vegas' most exclusive night clubs. Rufus controlled a small empire that was entirely located on the strip...but his latest venture had taken him to San Diego.
There, one could find the small office of EXODUS Pro Wrestling, Frost's joint venture with Jonathan Collins. And that venture is how Rufus came into contact with the man sitting in a very plush chair when he turned around, Jimmy Riley. Riley had been in the same independent promotion as Collins mere months before this day, and the two, along with EXODUS International Champion Fiona Rourke, formed The Marauders and ran wild across the state of Tennessee.
But times weren't always good; not counting Riley suffering a fractured elbow that put him out of action, multiple instances of politics and favoritism sent The Marauders out of work. Collins sought out Rufus Frost to begin EXODUS. While Fiona became a competitor, Riley stepped behind the curtain; his elbow hadn't fully healed before returning to the ring, and he wasn't confident that he could have the same success. But the fire still existed in the pit of Riley's stomach...and that's why Rufus Frost called him from his current home in Nashville to Vegas.
“Oh, it's no problem at all, Rufus. I'm just wondering what it could be that has me out here,” Riley leaned back into his chair. “I thought you and Gadlin had this investigation handled.”
Riley referred to the current happenings in EXODUS; mysterious videotapes surfacing, following Jonathan Collins and his daughter, the EXODUS roster, and even Rufus himself. Frost's response had been to investigate the matter himself, alongside UCSD (Univ. of California San Diego, where EXODUS' shows take place) representative Stewart Gadlin. The two were scheduled to report their findings at the next EXODUS show...on January 27.
“That's handled, actually. I wanted to talk about you, actually,” Rufus said as he sat down behind his desk. It was large, Jimmy noted mentally; a little too big, he thought. “Jon and Fiona tell me...you're interested in getting back into the ring.”
This was news to Jimmy Riley. He leaned forward in his chair.
“You...they...I haven't said anything to them.”
“They just know you well, apparently,” Rufus noted. “But regardless. You are interested?”
“Yeah...just-” Riley paused. “I see what's happening with Fiona, and what's happening with Jon, and I don't want to make it worse.”
Not only were Jon and Fiona being stalked by an unknown entity (actually, make that two for Collins; he has someone else stalking him and Madison), but they also had the pair of Kliff Ulysses and Daisuke Iwakuma after them in EXODUS. Riley clearly didn't want any part of that.
“I understand, and trust me; if I could keep everyone safe, I would. You yourself had a run-in with Iwakuma at the last E-Pro TV.”
Riley winced. Caught off guard by Iwakuma and his cousin, Itsumo Ichi, he was dropped at the feet of Fiona a bloody mess. As much as he wanted revenge on the two of them, Jimmy was restrained by company policy; no staff member could intentionally physically harm a contracted competitor. It was a policy that had a bigger effect on Ulysses, who wanted a piece of Director Jonathan Collins.
“I did. I guess that's got some frustration built up in me right now,” Riley said. “But how exactly do you have an idea?”
Rufus stood up, and began pacing around the room slowly.
“When I started EXODUS with Jon, I don't think either of us expected the reaction of the wrestling world, at-large. You're already familiar with the promotions we're working with? Platinum Dynasty in Philadelphia, and Frontier Grappling Arts in the Northeast?”
Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, you mentioned them at TV.”
“Well, we've got a new potential partner. In the United Kingdom, we're in talks with Pro Wrestling FRONTIER. They're probably the biggest wrestling promotion in England right now.”
“...I'll be honest, Rufus, I've never been to England, I don't know that I'd be comfortable going over there full time.”
Rufus stopped, looking out over the nightclub below. As he talked, he didn't turn to face the only other person in the office.
“That's the beauty of it, Jimmy. They're doing a special event; an...well, they're calling it an 'open house.'” He glanced over his shoulder. “I thought it would be a good idea to send someone from EXODUS over there to showcase. But...it's on the 27th.”
Riley now rose from his chair, but made no moves toward his boss.
“That's an unfortunate situation...but you want me to head over there? What about the investigation? What about Daisuke and Kliff? What about-”
“You need to be away from those two,” Rufus interrupted. “They laid you out, I'm sure you're angry about it. I saw a lot of it in New Era Wrestling. People like Trevor Wrath and Andrew Ashton, they'd get laid out, but they would be there, the next week, and it was hard to keep them in check.”
Jimmy nodded.
“I get it. And you're right, it's probably best for me to not be in San Diego with all the things going on. I guess I'm just worried that they're going to use all of this uneasiness, with the stalking, with Jon being on edge, and now with me gone...to have a big plan.”
This time it was Rufus' turn to shake his head. “I've got that part under control,” he said as he turned back to face Jimmy. “Don't worry about Daisuke and Kliff. Take the next week, spend some time worrying about yourself, then head to England. There's a title shot and a ten thousand pound prize in it for the winner.”
Jimmy lightened up a little bit at that news. “That's a nice chunk of change. What, about...”
“Fifteen, almost sixteen grand over here. Did the math for you.”
His eyes widened. “You don't pay chump change, but the ability to potentially make that much in one night? That's a nice vacation for me and Mary.”
Rufus smiled. “So you'll take it?”
“Rufus, right now I'd take a booking in Thailand if it would pay that much.”
“...The Thai don't pay nearly as much.”
~~~~~
A couple of days later, Jimmy found himself using the facilities of the apartment complex he was living in. He had been in Nashville now for the better part of six months. The first month was one to two nights a week, staying in the apartment Jonathan and his daughter had taken to renting. He would fly into town, stay there for a night, then the two of them (and later, Fiona as well) would head down to Knoxville for a TV taping.
It was in Knoxville that he met Mary Simons; she was the night receptionist in the hotel he was staying in each weekend...but only until getting back to Nashville. There, he found, she was beginning work on a law degree. The two became close fairly quickly, and after Mary subleased her part of an apartment, the two got a larger apartment together. With his career only requiring bi-weekly trips to San Diego, the two were able to spend more time together than usual.
This morning found her in class, and Jimmy on a treadmill. The weather having recently turned cold, he was alone in the workout room, his additional layers of warm clothing hung on the treadmill next to him as he ran. With the headphones secured tightly over his ears, he was oblivious to the world around him; that would prove to be important as two men, both dressed in tailored suits, entered the door behind him. They quickly realized they didn't need to be stealthy, and moved to each side of the treadmill line. The two were nearly converged on Jimmy before he realized what was happening.
“WHAT'S HAPPENING, GUYS?” The music was clearly affecting his speech volume, as each man stepped on to a surrounding treadmill. One motioned for Jimmy to remove his headphones. He did, but continued jogging.
“Mr. Riley,” the one on his left began, “We represent Mr. Alistair Moore. I assume you're familiar with him?”
Riley's face went blank, though his legs never stopped moving. “I'm aware. I thought I was done with him; warned not to go back to Ellum. ...I'm keeping up my part of the bargain.”
The one on the right shook his head. “Unfortunately for you, the terms of your agreement with him and Mr. Williams have changed. You're being deemed...responsible...for the debts your father owed to Mr. Moore.”
“I'm not sure I understand,” Jimmy replied. “He's perfectly capable of paying his own debts, wherever he is. Furthermore, I don't know that tidbit. I've tried my best to avoid him since...well, since before I learned about this.”
The one on the left crossed his arms. “Mr. Riley is missing...and until he's found, you're on the hook.”
“I'm not interested in picking up his tab.” Jimmy had long since washed his hands of his father, long before he learned of his business dealings with Alistair Moore, his lawyer Everett Williams, and Hal Snyder; the latter of which was indirectly causing problems for Jonathan Collins back in San Diego.
“Then consider this your final warning. The next time Mr. Moore sends us, this encounter won't be so polite.”
“If this is polite, guys, then I shudder to think how you deal with family.”
The one on the right frowned, “We'll leave you to your business...but before long, you'll be our business. You don't want that. Have a good day.”
The two walked off, leaving as quietly as they had entered, and as the door closed, Jimmy put his headphones back on. Cardio wasn't going to train itself.
~~~~~
The White Phoenix Training School was renowned for its output; in the early-mid 2000s, it produced the Ashton brothers; Timothy, Aaron, and (most notably) Andrew all went on to become World Champions at some point, while youngest brother Corey would hold multiple secondary titles throughout the decade. The last wrestling student to come out of the school, however, was Jimmy Riley.
Its location in Nashville was merely a coincidence to his relocation, however; the school had long since been sold off, its new owners keeping the name, but moving to a mixed martial arts focus. Still, with the connection to its original owner and operator, they considered all students of his able to come and go freely. This trip, however, was to use a side room to film a short promo. A black curtain is hung in the background, and Jimmy Riley is up close to the camera, making sure it's set up properly so as to keep him in frame.
“Aaaaand... there we go! Done!”
He steps back, clears his throat, and counts down from five on his right hand before starting. He's wearing a pair of blue jeans, and presumably a t-shirt, but it's obscured by a dark blue Nashville Predators hooded sweatshirt. The hood is down, and his hands are by his sides.
“I guess the first thing I want to do is apologize. I don't have anything fancy to tell you about me; no media conference...I'm not a big enough name for that. No dark rooms...I like light too much. No animal corpses hanging from the ceiling...I like my meat medium-well. But...
He paused, thinking of how to continue. First thought? Empty threats to people he doesn't know. Second? Endless babble, meaning nothing. Third, and correct? A history lesson.
“The last time I stood in front of a camera and talked, it was for a completely different reason. I, like many others, was preparing for a match; in this case, a tag team title match just a few hours away in Knoxville, Tennessee. I sat on a bed, held a camera up in front of my face, and talked about two guys who, for all intents and purposes, were inferior to me. That turned out to be the case, but soon after, myself...Fiona Rourke...and Jonathan Collins, the three of us known as The Marauders, found ourselves on the outside looking in.
He looked down for a minute, possibly contemplating if he had made the right decision.
“Politics. That's what pushed us out...well, what pushed them out. I was swept up for the ride. Fast forward a few months...and now here I am.
He looks up again at the camera. His face is a little somber, for reasons he's to explain.
“Jonathan...he has the position of Director in EXODUS Pro. He's running the show, he's the face of the company, moreso than Rufus Frost, who owns it, or the currently vacated spot of champion. In the stead of that champion, Fiona Rourke is the EXODUS International Champion. She's the in-ring face of the company, and she carries the role well. ...Me? I'm somewhere in between; sitting behind the curtain, tasked with the role of keeping the show on point, making sure everyone is where they're supposed to be.
Riley shakes his head.
“That's not what I came back for. See, I thought I was done with pro wrestling. I had my fill, I was never going to be the 'big star' I thought I...at the time, should've been, but realize now it was a could've been. I left, I went home, I became successful doing something else. It was the two of them that pulled me back into a ring, and the two of them that propped me up and realized that I could be something, someone that was successful at wrestling. So to see the two of them thrive, and be sitting behind a curtain...it's kind of eye opening.
“That's why I took this chance, that's why I jumped on this opportunity. Pro Wrestling FRONTIER's Open House 2. A battle royal, open to all comers, and the prize is that much sweeter; ten thousand English pounds, and a shot at the GFC World Heavyweight Championship. I couldn't think of a better time to step outside the United States. To step into a foreign land, to step inside of a foreign wrestling ring, and to make my name known in an entirely new country. Does that make it easy?
He grins.
“Of course not! Look at the names, hell, look at the FRONTIER names alone; Osborne, Jones, Talbot, Pride, these guys are known commodities in the UK. CJ Osborne and Alex Jones are both former GFC Champions! Then to add in names like Chandler Scott, half of the Harvard Connection and former FGA Heavyweight Champion? Former MWA World Champion Lito Kruz? Angelica Jones, a bonafide legend from GDW? I mean...
Jimmy almost breaks out laughing.
“Who the hell am I? Seriously! Look at that list of names, that's not even getting into the likes of Madman Szalinski, Adam Stryker, or Troy Gafgen! I'm just some punk who's held a couple of minor titles. I'm just some kid who took years off to be a personal trainer. I'm just some loudmouth who's taking himself to England in hopes of stealing a win or two. What chance do I have of winning a battle royal this big?
The laughing stops. Jimmy Riley's face grows just a little bit in confidence, and he takes a moment to make small paces in the camera frame.
“By my count...pretty good. See, I may not know a lot about each individual wrestler in this match, I know enough about myself. I know that my style of wrestling is pretty conducive to staying on the ground. I know that I've got more than few tricks up my sleeve...that I'm not above bending a rule or two to stay ahead once I'm there. And I've got the hunger factor. See, that's something I don't think a lot of you have; maybe Osborne or Jones have it. They've held that GFC title above their heads, around their waists. They want it again. But Kruz or Jones? They've held what I'm sure they consider bigger titles. What's a paltry 15 thousand American dollars to a pair of well-off legends like them? Or Chandler Scott...he's here for the payday, sure, but what about his calling back home? He's a tag team guy now, he'd be better off coming to my house in San Diego for a shot at tag gold.
He stops, looking at the camera, now a stern look across his face; lips are pulled into a thin, tight line, eyes are narrowed.
“Me? I want that World Title. I want that cash prize. I want the glory that comes with it, and I want all of it...more than a lot of you. The ones who might want it more? Those are the kind of people I can beat. Because they're desperate for it. Desperate for fame, desperate for fortune, desperate...to be relevant. They want that win, they crave that win...and they'll be far more willing to take risks to get there. So when the lot of us step into that ring in Croydon, in the Fairfields Hall, with the title shot and the money up for grabs?
Riley's face lightens up just a little bit.
“I'm in the right spot at the right time, looks like. You boys and girls saddle up, because Jimmy Riley's coming to town, and it's gonna be a wild night.”
With that, Jimmy steps back forward to the camera, fiddling with it for a moment before cutting to black.