"Perpetual Motion"







-WEDNESDAY, FEB 1, 2017, RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL-

--Jim's locker/dressing room, WNW venue--




I finish lacing my boots and readying for Triple Threat war while I watch Thomas Nixon's "1999" promo on my phone.

My opinions are no secret; seeing Nixon as having rolled in as and remaining one of the faces on the roster I not only respect but revere as one of the best I've ever had the honor of competing against.

The fact I'd toppled Thomas's TV Title reign hadn't sent him packing as it would so many others. He'd chugged along like a champ into what would become a loss at the hands of one of his personally reviled adversaries in Gabe Reno. That still hadn't stopped him. He'd answered that loss by winning a return bout for my belt and ending XVega's XWF career in the same night...at least, Vega _seems_ to have lost all the wind in his sails. Though, that doesn't really matter. It isn't that man I'm set to square off with in 3 nights, it's Nixon. Nixon is no joke.

Nixon isn't a joke, he's an unfunny physically punishing punchline. Nixon isn't a lark, he's a future legend. Nixon isn't a stupid man; to the contrary he's one of the more intelligent in our promotion. However, for everything that Nixon is he's still as fallible as the rest of us and as educated as he might be, he fails with a capital F in the course of what keeps the Caedus clock ticking.

'I suggest you take this time to re-educate him. Honestly, with your schedule you have no choice but to fight back when you can.'

I agree...

...........................

"You finally did it Thomas, you finally found a way to irritate me. Using me in comparison to _anything_ in context with Prince is an insult. Not that I'm passing judgment on any Princeophiles in population; to each his own. I just happen to be someone who, if I actually _liked_ the genre, prefers a pop-star who _doesn't_ push the flipping off of fans with flacid, faggoty, femininity and fuckin' falsetto. The only thing I've in common with Prince, or any recording he's released for that matter, is death. Of course, _unlike_ Prince, I didn't _stay_ dead.

Fuck '1999'; all that title and track reminds me of is the Y2K scare and how truly the mindless masses can be. My tale up til now is more akin to Eminem's 'Not Afraid' and goddamn you for making me say so. I hate that fuckin' wigger worm...unfortunately, 'Not Afraid' so nigh perfectly describes my current position I can't help but cite it in response. Afraid of the end am I? Feeling the pressure you say? Not only are those observations flawed and off target, you missed the minimal scoring sections and sharted your shitty darts clear of the dartboard altogether."

'Hitting the wall should count towards effort at least.'

"Thomas you disappoint me in that you couldn't help but hop on the bandwagon of bitches bashing me for my close call with Cadryn. I suppose that's what my honesty in admitting to that buys me: criticism. Will that stop me from being honest? Hardly. I don't care what people think and I find honest admissions to possess a deflating effect when some dickhead drops a dirty-bomb.

If I'm paying you the compliment of honesty it's only right to reciprocate with your own. I'm not the only TV Champ to suffer a dreaded draw am I? Lest we forget, you couldn't defeat Brandon Moore the first time around. Details of the final moments of our defensive draws notwithstanding, the fact remains you and I _both_ succeeded in retaining our titles. Period. To put it any other way hooves it heavily into hypocrisy. Hypocrisy won't defeat me in words and it won't save you in our rematch."

'We'll _show_ you decisive victory.'

"Decisive victory... If what you say about the fans, and I'll safely assume as well our _peers_, persisting that Nico would pull off the pin is accurate it only tells me how many more miscreants will be whimpering and weakly waxing butt-hurt and bitter once they experience me in competition first-hand. Not only did I beat LaVey at his own gutless game but I kicked out of his finisher, dragged my lake of lesser-needed-nut-checks and came up with a top rope Katabasis that definitively ended that title defense. If that isn't decisive enough for you, if you can't see the parallels between that match and our first, you must think my relieving you of the TV Title by countering your Nixon-nator wasn't skill but a fluke as well. It smacks of inability to own up. Well, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, Nix. Just don't dwell on the fact that Nico kicked out of what _you didn't_ and it _still_ wasn't enough to stop me."

'How's that for downward motion and momentum?'

"Allow me to put to rest the rumors which at this point are really only futile and false attempts to fuck with my frame of mind. I've been over my close-call with Cadryn for some time now. It may have affected me mentally for a moment, _before_ I tangled with Nico, but I've shown how ineffective I'll allow anything I identify as inferiority in myself to be.

Yes, I've gone on the record to state the struggle the XWF TV Champ endures. Do I find it exceptionally demanding? Indeed I do. Does that wear me down or whittle away at my will? Absofuckinglutely not. All I _do_ is struggle, I'm quite used to it and oddly enough quite fond of it. It shows me I'm alive and keeps things interesting. How boring would my life and competing be if shit came easy for me? I may seek revenge on all for my tortures out of the ring but _in_ the ring, in the XWF, I LOVE this shit. This is _fun_ for me, Thomas. Pressure is my bread and butter, it isn't my burden. It was a burden for _you_ to have to compete once a week in title defenses and that was apparent in the way you, for your own good, refused to opt in for _every_ Warfare card during your rule. You were outspoken as fuck calling yourself a true fighting champion, which I agreed with, as opposed to those who defend once or twice a month...or less.

Now...feast your eyes upon an even GREATER true fighting champion, Thomas. A man who never lets an opportunity to compete, even if it would overload others as championship athletes, to pass him by. A man, unlike you, unless you turn out to be a surprise entrant, who WILL be competing in Lethal Lottery 4. A man, unless I'm mistaken, who has already become the _FIRST_ Television Champ in XWF history to VOLUNTARILY put his title on the line NOT ONCE but TWICE with LESS than even FOUR DAYS SEPARATION TO CARRY IT OUT!"

'Who's the fighting champ now?'

"If the roster thinks I'm rotting away it's by choice of ignorance. Taking shots at me and my pride doesn't secretly work. It doesn't serve to weaken my focus or will, it steels them both. I never give in, I give it my all and I've _already_ and still _am_ proving that. If _you_ thought fighting once a week was tough you could never hope to be able to walk a mile on the mat in my wingtips and that'll become ever so clear when I repeat the events of our first round with a second round knock-out.

You can funnel _that_ added frustration into your match with McBride later but you _won't_ be angrily assing ME out of my reign fueled by your heat with him. As you said, my title isn't even your primary goal at this point, Michael is. _My_ immediate and long term goals include my name written in the ledger of legends as the longest reigning XWF Television Champion in history before moving on. Therefore that means I intend to continue to hold on to this strap going INTO and OUT of Lethal Lottery 4 and that, consequently for you, includes the honor of handing you your third defeat and claiming _my_ fourth defense along the way.

Of _course_ it's inevitable I'll eventually lose the TV Title. Big fucking deal, I told you before I don't fear loss. The problem is, nothing in life has ever stopped me from getting what I want. It may have slowed me down at times but in the end, I MAKE my OWN DESTINY even if I have to fuck someone else outta theirs. Come to grips with that. Henry Spade wanted so badly to end my life and he didn't have a ring, rules or a ref holding him back. Hell, he didn't even have ME holding him back! He had me at his mercy and he FUCKING FAILED anyway! Sound familiar? Like everyone else I've faced has discovered thus far, and I declare this with a complete absence of arrogance and an acknowledgment of severe imperfection, I'm too stubborn to beat down. I'm a _motherfucker_ to merc and even when I collect losses that will never cease to be the case. Ever."

'Bullets, beatings, a baby dick...nothing holds this man back. Believe that.'

Hey, a fat 5 and 3/4 and a well-placed thumb have always been enough to make bitches cum. Believe THAT.

'I bet no one _else_ has the balls to admit how short _they_ measure up.'

"A greater man than I, namely our XWF Hart Champion Robbie Bourbon, has been consistently pushing encouragement and faith in my abilities for weeks now. For that I sincerely offer him my gratitude and thanks and by the way bud, let me tell you, I refuse to prove you wrong. I insist on vindicating your vision by standing with you as we work our way to a win in the tournament. But that's fourteen days away in the future; I've two matches, three threats to my reign and three immediate opponents to tackle first and I can't digress...

My boy Bourbon has told you all flat out that I'm not one to be doubted or trifled with so willy-nilly but instead of taking his words to heart, all I hear are hard-ons who'd rather believe the opposite with their weak ass wishful thinking of witnessing or handing me my first loss in the XWF. Granted this a business of egos and competitors, and a certain lack of begrudging respect should be expected, but I shouldn't hear non-stop numbskullery, especially from YOU Thomas, of lucky this, close-call that. I have to listen to linguistic lashings of already being broken down, of wincing on a wonky wheel, of being a machine in which a wrench has been thrown in the works. Fuck that; it doesn't and won't affect my game. Thus, I offer my detractors and YOU most of all, Nixon, the opportunity to revise those bullheaded bullshit statements before I beat the truth into you all. I'm not a machine in need of repair I'm perpetual fucking motion, motherfuckers, I definitely don't fucking stop; I just keep swinging like a low hanging nutsac. Think I'm on my way out? Win or lose, ask Seraphina and Main that after our match concludes. Fuck failure. I'm Jim Caedus."