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Satisfaction; <Joe>
Topic Started: May 25 2017, 07:49 PM (34 Views)
Mjölnir
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It's a cold open on Joe Stanton, he's already in his ring gear, presumably ready for the big show that the FIW's gearing up to hold. Pausing as he finishes up taping his right hand, Joe reaches down off camera and he slips something on over his arm, pulling it right up over his bicep. He gives the memorial black band a slap and he scoops up a leather jacket and his sunglasses, the finished product looking reminiscent of something.

"I get it."

Stanton nods his head, starting off in a tone as cold as the open to this piece.

"The boost in your stock, the fame, the money, the women, the doing this and signing that, and everything else that being a champion can bring somebody in their career. Having a championship means something, it means you mean something, even if the people or your contemporaries don't like you. It's validation for everything you've done up until this point, every birthday you missed, every plan you had to cancel, every relationship that went up in freakin' smoke."

In what's certainly no accident, Joe pulls on fingerless leather gloves that complete the look he's invoking. He tightens them, yanking tight on the strap and fastening it around his balled up right hand.

"But you're not stupid, you and I both know there's more than the high life to being a champion."

The Scarlet Speedster's gloved hands disappear below frame and when they reemerge they have the FIW Fighting Spirit Championship sitting in them. He tilts his head down, looking at the title belt that's sitting in his hands.

"Specifically there's more to this championship than that."

His grip on the title belt tightens.

"I get your motivations, I get that satisfaction you're looking for, but that side of things while fun has lost it's luster over the years for me. It just isn't what is important to me, money I got enough of, women I've had my fair share of, the bright lights of fame aren't always what they're cracked up to be. I could walk away from this industry and financially be alright, as long as I didn't go too crazy with how I spent my cents. I could go a life time before I stepped foot inside of another club or VIP party, purple nurples notwithstanding."

He's rather casual and candid in his confession, shrugging his shoulders when he talks of walking from the pro-wrestling industry. Just at the thought of the drink though Joe smacks his lips together, apparently bringing back some fond memories.

"It would be so easy to do."

Stanton snaps his fingers to illustrate how easy it would be for him to up and retire, and walk away from it all.

"No, none of that is why I do this."

Shaking his head, he readjusts his hold on the championship just to make sure the main plate of the title belt in square in the center of the shot.

"I do this because the thrill, the simplicity of everything. Everything good, everything bad, all the useless information supposed to fry your imagination. It all kinda just drifts away when you're in there under those hot lights and you have a rowdy crowd watching. Entertaining thousands, thousands of millions watching, every single of them on the edge of their seat by the end of it wondering who is going to prevail, what is going to happen next. There's something pure about..."

Pausing, Joe let's the words linger in his mouth before he says them, really savoring them.

"It. The violence."

Either he's reflecting on that, or he's letting the audience reflect on it. Regardless, he pauses again.

"S'why I walk out there every night and I give it everything I have, give the people paying to watch everything I have in me. I try to be better than anything they've seen before me and anyone they're going to see after me, so that they know they're never going to see anything like me again. They know from that moment on who I am and what I am, and know that when my name is on the advertisement they're going to see one of the best fights they've ever seen. They know that even if the odds aren't looking good, I'll fight for them, even if there's some awesome matches lined up, I'm going to fight that much harder to prove I'm the MVP."

Some fire is seeping into the Guy in Shades' voice when he explains why he does what he does.

"Because I might have some laughs, I might hang with my buds, but don't let my good nature fool you as to who it is that holds this championship in his hands. I don't just say I'm going to steal the show and put on the best match of the night every night I lace up my boots, I do it. I don't just say I'm going to fight for them and for myself till my very last breath, my scars prove it. And, I don't just say that I live for the fight, I show it."

Bobbing his head, Joe doesn't argue how he comes across in his general life. Though on the drop of a dime he snaps back to his game face, his voice growing low and deathly serious.

"Just because you don't smoke the same cigarettes as me doesn't mean I didn't mean what I've said, you're good, 'Show. You're one of the best on the roster even, I argue. And, you and me? We had a barn burner, a sleeper hit the last time the two of us met in that ring one on one. To say that this rematch, this proper rematch between us isn't highly anticipated by the fans and the industry as a whole would be selling the two of us short."

Swinging the championship suddenly, Joe throws up his jacket long enough to get the belt around his waist and he goes about fastening it. The championship sits comfortably there, his hands coming around front of him to sit on the edge of the belt's front.

"And, you can try and try, and try and try to beat me, to take this championship away from me..."

Nodding his head along with every "try" he states, Joe's lips curl into a smirk.

"But you won't get no satisfaction."

Scoffing, Joe smiles while the camera fades to black.
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