Vs. Lux XWF

"Champions aren’t made in the gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them-a desire, a dream, a vision. They have to have the skill and the will. But the will must be stronger than the skill." – Muhammad Ali

{The Bane Home - Las Vegas, NV - “History”}

It was approaching twilight, my tumbler was empty, “Such a shame”, I said as I looked at the empty glass. The woodsy aroma of my scotch still filled my senses. I considered having another one but then shrugged it off. “Not tonight,” I said as I looked down at the open photo album. Looking at the picture in the center of the album, “Sixteen fucking years old,” I smirked. “The day it all started right there.” The man in the picture standing next to me was my father, Jonathan Bane, “Piece of shit,” I commented as I sighed. My father had been a tremendous talent in his own right but never could quite get out of his own way. He wouldn’t travel to other territories in order to get his name and his brand out there to a wider audience. He refused to do the work that was needed to get ahead. So, he worked in western Louisiana and east Texas exclusively. That of course is where he came to know Larry Thibedoux and Martin Boyette…

[ 21 Years ago ]

“Jon, you sure you wan ya boy in dis?” My father looked at him and smirked. “What's the problem, Larry?” The old man always talked down to these guys who were technically his business partners at this point in my life. They hated him for the way he treated not only them but me. Martin said to me, “You don have to do this Mac.” I looked at my father and then back at Martin, “yeah, I kinda do.” My first opponent was a local, who went by the name of Crush. Maybe he just watched too much t.v. or something. He was six feet tall and about a buck-eighty on a good day. He was also in his mid-thirties and smoked two packs a day. This was not going to be a fair fight, I knew it and so did the old man. Crush had never been defeated, this was his eighth fight. This was my first fight, so sure I got where the gentlemen were coming from, they didn’t expect me to survive this. This was not a fight club or some bullshit you see on television. This was as real as it gets.

The crowd had started filing in, and we were being ushered towards the cage. Once inside, I could smell my opponent's body odor and his fear. We began descending as the pulley system began to lower us into the pit. I looked down and saw half a dozen alligators staring back up at us. “Crush” began to cackle like a mad man as he saw my face. “You gon die in this pit today asshole” The cheers and applause from the gathering crowd made him bolder as he walked across the cage towards me. I leaned up against the cage wall very casually, “keep it up jackass and you’ll never see this cage reach the bottom.” My words caught him by surprise, but not as much as the pump kick I gave him that sent him flying. The crowd was getting louder, the louder they became the more intense I became. They wanted blood and I was going to give it to them.

The fight was already over, he was just too stupid to realize it. He rubbed his chest as the cage set down. The pump kick I’d given him left a nice red footprint on his chest as he staggered back towards the center of the cage. “I’m gon feed you to the gators, one piece at a time boy.” He virtually shouted it at me as he charged towards me. I waited until the last possible moment and dropped down, executing a front sweep. Essentially I had just kicked his feet out from under him and sent him face first into the cage wall. He bounced off the cage walls and the crowd had their first bloodshed of the night. The steel had carved a path from the right side of his nose up past his eyebrow. I stood back waiting for him to recover, that was the first and last mistake I would ever make in this kind of event. He saw his own blood and it was like watching a “b” movie about the Viking berserkers. He went nuts.

He lowered his head and tackled me, soon he was on top of me raining down rights and lefts. He managed to bust me open by slamming my head into the cage floor repeatedly. His mistake was afterward he stood up off of me and posed for his buddies. That gave me everything I needed. Time to recover and a distraction that proved to be his final mistake. The fact that I was back on my feet brought the crowd to theirs as I attacked him from behind with a clubbing blow that sent him back into the cage wall again. He bounced off the wall and I grabbed him by the back of the head and using every bit of strength I had, I launched him into it again. Then a third time for good measure. I stared down at a man, who was dying before my eyes. I went to the side of the cage, after a few minutes it was obvious that he wasn’t going to get back up and they began raising the cage back to where we began. My father met me with a smile and a towel to wipe the blood from my face with. I wiped my face off, “Well damn, Mac, you’re tougher than I thought,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

[ Present Day ]

I closed the photo album and stared at it for a moment. Shaking off the memory, I stood up and grabbed the tumbler from the side table. I poured myself another drink and went out onto our back porch. It had been a bit warmer lately so I stood there watching the night sky. “Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” That phrase has always amused me. I chuckled as I took a seat and set the drink on the side table beside my chair. Taking out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one. I took a sip of my drink, followed shortly by a deep drag of my cigarette. Exhaling slowly I look back up at the night sky. “It’s been a long damn time since I spent time at the Tokyo Dome. This is going to be such a great night.”

Fade

{The Tokyo Dome, Tokyo Japan, “Showtime”}

I had arrived in Tokyo and the ride to the dome was a long one, with so many people, so much traffic. So I started out the window as the driver tried his best to weave in and out of traffic. All and all it was an uneventful ride to the dome. I paid the driver and exited the vehicle. I walked up to the front of the venue, admiring the architecture. From the two-tone paving stones that made up the walkway to the building itself, to the myriad of windows that reflected the sunlight in a cascade of colors depending on the time of day. Of all the places in the world where you can work a wrestling event, for me, this has always been one of my Meca’s of pro wrestling. The people of Japan were polite, and if you could get over with them, you could do that anywhere. As I looked at the glass that adorned the front of the building I could see a young kid, maybe 20 trying his best to blend into the crowd that was moving along near the entrance. He kept glancing at me as if trying to summon his courage. At first, I thought he might be an autograph seeker but then he made a dash in my direction.

I could almost smell his desperation as he got close to me. As he reached for my bag, I swung it from my right shoulder, across my body to my left shoulder. He missed his grab and stumbled past me, crashing at the feet of the local police, who had watched it all unfold with unhidden amusement. He tried to scramble to his feet but they secured him as I approached. “You know, if you wanted my autograph all you had to do is ask.” The policemen openly laughed at him as they escorted him away. “Everyone has to learn the hard way, I suppose.” I shrugged and began making my way inside. I passed by the stands where they were selling our merchandise, considering I’m not a fan favorite, I was a little surprised at the number of people wearing my t-shirt.

I finally found the door I was looking for, “Chronic” Chris Page, and I knocked. “Entrevue came the response from the other side.” His antics always amused me and I pushed the door open. A smile bloomed on his face as he stood up from behind his desk. “Welcome to Tokyo, Mac.” I smiled and shook his extended hand in a firm grip, “Thanks, I have been here in ages, or at least it feels like a lifetime ago.” He pointed at the chair across from the desk, “Please take a seat.” I sat my bag by the chair and settled into a very uncomfortable-looking chair that turned into a very comfortable chair much to my surprise. After a brief pause, it was me that broke the silence. “I know you’re not happy with what Theo pulled,” I began. He interrupted me, “Unhappy would be putting it mildly, but what can we do.” I smiled, “Nothing really, it was expected with so many people that you represent being in one place.” He nodded admittedly, “Yeah, it really was expected, he’s a dick.” It was my turn to nod in agreement, “I think he is very cagey, if he’s viewing this collection of talent as a lot of people do, we may be headed for war. I mean, most people view us as a stable, right?” He nodded, “I’m picking up what you’re throwing down.” I smiled, I knew he did, Chris is one of the most cerebral people I had ever met. “The real question, is do we wait and react, or do we escalate?”

Fade

{In-Studio - Tokyo Dome, Japan - “Making sure I’m heard.”

Standing in front of an XWF banner, I wore a CCPE t-shirt with my own visage on it. The t-shirt was tucked into my blue jeans, leather belt, black boot completed my look. As the cameras began to roll, I gave the camera a wink and began.

Well, Chris allowed Theo to choose my first opponent and in typical Theo fashion he tried to poison the well by putting Xavier in my way.

I paused to take a breath, and then quickly jumped in.

In the way of an explanation, Xavier and I are associated with Chris through “Chronic” Chris Page Enterprises. It won't matter in the least, to be honest, to either of us.

Pausing more for dramatic effect than anything, I give a one-sentence statement.

The Enterprise still wins.

I smile more broadly as I think about the adversity I’ve overcome personally.

It’s just another obstacle to overcome, he’s just another man standing across the ring from me.

Pausing again, I stare down at the boots I’m wearing.

Even if it were my best friend standing across the ring from me, I take no prisoners and personal relationships don’t matter.

When I look up, my gaze has changed subtly, the smile is gone or transformed into something more predatory.

It’s just as simple as that. No one should take this as I hate everyone and that I have no friends in this business.

My gaze doesn’t change, cocking my head to the side, I continue.

I have many, but the point is, I get paid to win matches, not influence others or make nice with people I don’t know.

My head returns to a more neutral position, and I relax my facial features.

All that being said, I know about Lux through his reputation mostly. He’s won world titles in places that due to the nature of the talent levels were truly an accomplishment. Places that were stacked with talent, not to mention the truly competitive environment that they represented.

I pause to take a breath and then jump right back in.

Now then, as far as platitudes, I’m done.
I remove the bandanna from my head, allowing my hair to fall freely and cascade across my shoulders.

Now I feel like it’s time for a little history lesson. I am a third-generation wrestler, with an emphasis on wrestling.

I stuff the bandanna in my back pocket as I think about my level of experience and all the blood wars I’ve been through in twenty years.

I’ve been doing this long enough that the experience factor of my opponents is not relevant to me. I know Xavier has been around a bit, but I don’t think he’s got as much experience as I do inside that ring. I can say that because I grew up inside the ring. I’ve been in wrestling rings working and training since I was able to walk. I have lived and breathed this industry my entire life.

I smile as I think of the people involved in CCPE, we don’t all like each other, but there is a healthy respect.

I know exactly what I get in an opponent like Lux, like me he is a wrestler first, that doesn’t mean he can’t or won’t throw hands. Like me, he doesn’t have to.

Allowing my expression to slide to a more relaxed and friendly look.

Xavier, talent recognizes talent. My only issue with you is that you are my debut opponent and will be treated accordingly. That’s not a threat or an accusation, it’s just the way I am.

My hands had been resting in front of me, with my thumbs hooked behind the belt buckle. I move my hands away from them and spread my arms out wide.

The bright side is that once we have this match, I’d consider teaming with you at some point.

Bringing my arms back in and crossing them in front of me.

The more immediate thing is that what happens in the ring in Tokyo between us is nothing more than Theo’s jealousy of Page shining through.

Resting my right elbow in my left hand, I raise my right arm up and begin tapping my lip with my index finger.

Just because I didn’t choose you as my first opponent, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t. That’s the reason it’s up to you and me to steal the show and make him look stupid.

I allow myself to express my amusement with the inferred statement.

That’s not terribly difficult, although I think that Pryce is very cagey. What my team did in the Denzel Porter Invitational…I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed putting someone through a burning table so much in my life as I did when I did that to Lane.

The amusement blooms into a full smile.

I mean, it was almost orgasmic. To be fair and not exclude anyone, Theo did get the pin in that match. So hats off to you little man. That’s about as much respect as I can muster even for a former champion. Mostly because you piss me off.

Dropping my arms back to my side I continue.

Now to the real talk. Xavier Lux and I have no history, no other reason to be in the ring together, other than some suit decided that’s what’s best for business, and his own amusement.

I pause to breathe as I continue.

Now, Lux, I hear you've been asking around about me, when you could have just asked Chris to give you my digits. I get it, someone you don’t know, so you ask others you’ve encountered due to a similar style. It’s cool.

I shrug it off as if it doesn’t matter because to me it doesn’t.

Here’s what you need to know about this guy.

I bring my hands up, pointing to myself with my thumbs.

I started wrecking other people at the age of sixteen. If it wasn’t inside of wrestling rings, it was inside of fight pits in western Louisiana. You’ve probably seen the movie Fight Club or something similar. It’s worse than that. You are placed in a cage that is lowered into a pit.

I smile broadly at that memory.

The winner is the guy who’s still breathing at the end of it, the loser becomes gator bait. Been doing that shit since I was a teenager, I’ll be forty-seven this year.

My smile becomes predatory again.

Any questions?

Fade.