Post by Deleted on Jun 19, 2020 23:01:38 GMT -5
One win, and I can’t believe it happened.
After being away for so long, fighting with myself for so long, I finally got the opportunity to fight and win.
My pride will have to sit on the back burner though.
It is, after all, only one win: a short milestone.
However I still appreciate what it took to be where I am.
I still appreciate what it took to bring me back.
I still appreciate the courage that Talia Areano had to get into the ring, knowing my transgression.
And I appreciate those that still choose to promote and support me.
GZWA, CWF, Trinity Wrestling: three companies that chose to allow The Firestorm to burn anew.
I wasn’t kidding when I said the Phoenix is rising.
I didn’t lie when I said The Firestorm lives.
I’m not lying when I say I’m going to hold the world title in all three of these organizations...
~The training regimen that Ceno put himself through before his match with Talia Areano was relaxed considerably, not because he was getting complacent, but because his body needed it. Instead of relaxing it fully, he decided to switch a few things up.
Many of the exercises he did were reduced in weight overall, even though he still did his weekly Farmer’s Walk; he knew that it helped Chris Cane, The Last Outlaw, keep pushing himself, and it also showed off and improved grip strength at the same time.
As Ceno was taking off his boxing gloves, he started to think about what he had going at the moment: three companies of decent renown, who are run by those with roots in the business, and they were all counting on him.
No, they weren’t counting on him; they were counting on the BETTER him.
They are right to, though, as he gazed at the calendar and looked at the month. It all started to flood back.
They were bittersweet memories, and they hurt him, a lot: Carnage Wrestling.
Two months to the day, two years have gone by since James Ceno beat his mentor, Jack Michaels, for Carnage’s Ultraviolent title. He beat him as the bad guy, the villain, the heel. And that same heel persona took him out of the game for too long.
Ceno threw his gloves aside, his handwraps tightly wound around his fists still, and he walked to the speed bag.
Without warning, without holding back, James started to hit the bag, and he was hitting it hard. The memories and the headache hit him with every sound of the canvas hitting the wood, allowing it to bounce back.~
??: Enough distractions, James. This isn’t what wins you matches.
~James would have frozen, but, in the moment, the distraction itself was enough to shake him back into it, as he sank into memories of the Mean Machine School of Wrestling, now a pile of rubble in the Las Vegas desert.
The voice of “The Blast” himself, Jack Michaels, rang in his ears.~
JM: One punch at a time, one step at a time.
JC: Jack, I know. We’ve done this so many times that it’s like clockwork.
JM: But clockwork isn’t fluid, is it?
~Jack bats the speed bag, and Ceno loses his rhythm. The Firestorm drops his hands, and Jack moves in with a couple half-strength jabs.~
JM: And you know better than to drop your hands!
JC: You’re right! You’re right!
~Jack backs away as James rubs his eye.~
JC: I think you got an eyebrow hair in there.
~Jack huffs a bit and goes to look, hands up, but Ceno comes in with his own half-strength body hook. The Blast reacts with an audible “oof”, and both men have a small laugh.~
JC: Fluid, right?
JM: Right.
~James, still swinging at the speed bag, slows down as the flashback fades back into the oblivion of circumstance. His anger fades to sadness, his frustration now depression, as he remembers back when he didn’t need to be a villain, back when he didn’t need to use examples of sexual violence to get heat.
It was all wrong, and it still tortured him.
Sure, that sort of thing would earn him the heat of the century, and it did, by taking him away from that which he loved more than his own life: his career.~
JM: Hey James.
~Another flashback as James held onto the speed bag contemplatively; he wasn’t sure when this memory took place. Was it a memory, or was it a part of his thinking?
Why was he thinking of Jack?
Well, other than what happened to Mean Machine; he still had to go to Vegas.~
JC: Yeah, old man?
JM: Your head has been in some pretty dark places lately, hasn’t it?
JC: You would know better than anyone.
JM: But you’re not there anymore, are you?
~James froze, not sure how to answer the question; he hung his head in shame.~
JM: It’s like OCD with you, my friend, where you have to shoulder your pain like you’re the champion of the people, only to have it crush you under its weight.
JC: Call it my act of charity to the world.
JM: Doesn’t it get exhausting in that bubble?
JC: I’m running out of air, Jack...
~James felt Jack’s hand grip his shoulder.~
JM: You’re not me.
JC: And you’re not me.
JM: We bear this stuff because of the generation we grew up with. We’re the men; we hang on to our pain. It led to a lot of pain for us both.
JC: I sexually harassed a woman.
JM: I almost lost my family.
JC: But you got better: Kyra, Amber... no, your Ambers.
~Jack laughs to himself.~
JM: But I’ve forsaken Kyra, James. Somehow I... I let her go.
JC: But you’ll get her back. You know you will; you know you can.
JM: I’m not so sure, but this time, this is for you. Get back to where you were. Forget the cold fire, as you called it; be that shining star, that Phoenix born by dragon fire. Light the way to YOUR future, and lead all who follow, as you found your way to EWE and to the school...
~James breaks from his reverie, tears streaming down his face, dripping from his eyes. He looks around, still alone in the gym, and he goes back to the speed bag, remembering to stay fluid.~
After being away for so long, fighting with myself for so long, I finally got the opportunity to fight and win.
My pride will have to sit on the back burner though.
It is, after all, only one win: a short milestone.
However I still appreciate what it took to be where I am.
I still appreciate what it took to bring me back.
I still appreciate the courage that Talia Areano had to get into the ring, knowing my transgression.
And I appreciate those that still choose to promote and support me.
GZWA, CWF, Trinity Wrestling: three companies that chose to allow The Firestorm to burn anew.
I wasn’t kidding when I said the Phoenix is rising.
I didn’t lie when I said The Firestorm lives.
I’m not lying when I say I’m going to hold the world title in all three of these organizations...
~The training regimen that Ceno put himself through before his match with Talia Areano was relaxed considerably, not because he was getting complacent, but because his body needed it. Instead of relaxing it fully, he decided to switch a few things up.
Many of the exercises he did were reduced in weight overall, even though he still did his weekly Farmer’s Walk; he knew that it helped Chris Cane, The Last Outlaw, keep pushing himself, and it also showed off and improved grip strength at the same time.
As Ceno was taking off his boxing gloves, he started to think about what he had going at the moment: three companies of decent renown, who are run by those with roots in the business, and they were all counting on him.
No, they weren’t counting on him; they were counting on the BETTER him.
They are right to, though, as he gazed at the calendar and looked at the month. It all started to flood back.
They were bittersweet memories, and they hurt him, a lot: Carnage Wrestling.
Two months to the day, two years have gone by since James Ceno beat his mentor, Jack Michaels, for Carnage’s Ultraviolent title. He beat him as the bad guy, the villain, the heel. And that same heel persona took him out of the game for too long.
Ceno threw his gloves aside, his handwraps tightly wound around his fists still, and he walked to the speed bag.
Without warning, without holding back, James started to hit the bag, and he was hitting it hard. The memories and the headache hit him with every sound of the canvas hitting the wood, allowing it to bounce back.~
??: Enough distractions, James. This isn’t what wins you matches.
~James would have frozen, but, in the moment, the distraction itself was enough to shake him back into it, as he sank into memories of the Mean Machine School of Wrestling, now a pile of rubble in the Las Vegas desert.
The voice of “The Blast” himself, Jack Michaels, rang in his ears.~
JM: One punch at a time, one step at a time.
JC: Jack, I know. We’ve done this so many times that it’s like clockwork.
JM: But clockwork isn’t fluid, is it?
~Jack bats the speed bag, and Ceno loses his rhythm. The Firestorm drops his hands, and Jack moves in with a couple half-strength jabs.~
JM: And you know better than to drop your hands!
JC: You’re right! You’re right!
~Jack backs away as James rubs his eye.~
JC: I think you got an eyebrow hair in there.
~Jack huffs a bit and goes to look, hands up, but Ceno comes in with his own half-strength body hook. The Blast reacts with an audible “oof”, and both men have a small laugh.~
JC: Fluid, right?
JM: Right.
~James, still swinging at the speed bag, slows down as the flashback fades back into the oblivion of circumstance. His anger fades to sadness, his frustration now depression, as he remembers back when he didn’t need to be a villain, back when he didn’t need to use examples of sexual violence to get heat.
It was all wrong, and it still tortured him.
Sure, that sort of thing would earn him the heat of the century, and it did, by taking him away from that which he loved more than his own life: his career.~
JM: Hey James.
~Another flashback as James held onto the speed bag contemplatively; he wasn’t sure when this memory took place. Was it a memory, or was it a part of his thinking?
Why was he thinking of Jack?
Well, other than what happened to Mean Machine; he still had to go to Vegas.~
JC: Yeah, old man?
JM: Your head has been in some pretty dark places lately, hasn’t it?
JC: You would know better than anyone.
JM: But you’re not there anymore, are you?
~James froze, not sure how to answer the question; he hung his head in shame.~
JM: It’s like OCD with you, my friend, where you have to shoulder your pain like you’re the champion of the people, only to have it crush you under its weight.
JC: Call it my act of charity to the world.
JM: Doesn’t it get exhausting in that bubble?
JC: I’m running out of air, Jack...
~James felt Jack’s hand grip his shoulder.~
JM: You’re not me.
JC: And you’re not me.
JM: We bear this stuff because of the generation we grew up with. We’re the men; we hang on to our pain. It led to a lot of pain for us both.
JC: I sexually harassed a woman.
JM: I almost lost my family.
JC: But you got better: Kyra, Amber... no, your Ambers.
~Jack laughs to himself.~
JM: But I’ve forsaken Kyra, James. Somehow I... I let her go.
JC: But you’ll get her back. You know you will; you know you can.
JM: I’m not so sure, but this time, this is for you. Get back to where you were. Forget the cold fire, as you called it; be that shining star, that Phoenix born by dragon fire. Light the way to YOUR future, and lead all who follow, as you found your way to EWE and to the school...
~James breaks from his reverie, tears streaming down his face, dripping from his eyes. He looks around, still alone in the gym, and he goes back to the speed bag, remembering to stay fluid.~