Post by James Ceno on Sept 11, 2020 18:09:35 GMT -5
Another opportunity to look good, another opportunity to show off and stand out...
This time, it’s an Outlaw Professional Wrestling pay-per-view card.
But for this match, I’m bringing some extra pressure, a little onus to be better, bigger, stronger than the rest.
I am the CWF United States Heavyweight Champion.
What does that make me?
Who cares; this is a different place, a different company.
While they’ll show me the respect a champion deserves, it’s a rival company all the same.
Right?
I’ll be shown the respect that a champion deserves, because it takes a lot to win a championship in this industry.
Shouldn’t I?
Damn this anxiety and panic.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just feel pressure.
It’s quite painful...
Wait, that’s not... oh shit.
~The headline on the TV screen held no secrets. It was very, VERY clear: “Wrestler suffers small heart attack in gym”. The reporters weren’t too friendly about it either. They weren’t malicious. They were merely following the teleprompter.~
NR: Live on the scene just outside Gold’s Gym here in LA, the ambulance has already taken James Ceno, known in the wrestling community as “The Firestorm”, to the hospital. The cause is likely some form of stress, but no one can be too sure until results come back from his tests upon arrival. All we can do is hope for the best, as he will be a part of another wrestling promotion’s show, here in LA. Back to you in the newsroom...
AN: Thank you for the report. James Ceno is not well-liked; the subject of public ridicule and outrage, Ceno had a controversial turn in a wrestling promotion based in Baltimore, where fans say he became “sadistic”, “creepy”, and some more say “a rapist”. We here will not cast any judgment here, as it wouldn’t be fair and would show bias.
CO-AN: He is a multi-time champion with a cult following, however allegations of sexual misconduct and harassment have led to his downfall and unpopularity. In the years he spent away, he was arrested 3 times for drunk and disorderly conduct and was hospitalized for drug overdose. We wish him the best in his recovery.
~Okay, so they weren’t so bad. In either case, James Ceno is in an ambulance, heading to the closest hospital with cardiac care.
He was still awake too, the adrenaline from the pain and from the exercise still forcing him to live through the agony. It was like nothing he had ever felt before; even withdrawal was nicer to him than this, and the withdrawal came from needing to detox after overdosing.
Once again, he was in jeopardy, and it would be before the Triple Jeopardy match no less.~
~In the hospital room, Ceno was intubated with a EKG going. He was semi-conscious, the mixture of medicines sedating him enough to keep him awake, as to not affect the readings. His mind, altered by the concoction of medications coursing through him, already started to project images of things that he didn’t think he’d see, such as the images of two of his opponents, taken as if they were off Twitter, and they hovered over the hospital bed. He didn’t move, as if wrapped up in sleep paralysis, as he watched these two women just be there.
He had to focus, to close his eyes and remind himself that it was just a dream. As he pushed himself to forget the visions, he could hear the alert sounding from the machine.
He was in distress, and he was putting out irregular numbers.
At least, they would be irregular for a healthy athlete of his caliber; he’s not healthy.
Even after two years, he was able to beat himself up enough to affect his body, pushing it to the brink.
It was more than the brink of life or death; it was the brink of retirement.
He took his time and slowed his breathing as they took the tube out of his throat, keeping him hooked up to oxygen as they continue their scans. He sighs, closing his eyes and slowly falling asleep.~
I am a worm before I am a man.
I was a creature before I could stand.
I’ll remember before I... forget.
~Thunder rolled as the scene slowly faded in from black, displaying the black clouds overhead. Lightning streaked across the clouds as the wind moved with great chaotic force. Walking in front of the scene, illuminated by spotlights, is The Firestorm, having not yet removed the sensors on his chest, as shown under his singlet.
He was using the old-school green screen, a flashback from the 80’s. The storm was raging behind him, and there was a storm raging inside him.~
JC: Behold, and be aware that you are looking at CWF’s new United States Heavyweight Champion.
~Ceno gestures towards his midsection, and the camera zooms out to include the belt in the frame, the plate etched with his name standing out.~
JC: I got to liberate this from the current world champ, Grant Ralton Jr, and Junior may think his title is safe, but he got to feel the furious fervour of the Firestorm. He now knows to watch his back if he wants to try trashing me again. My second match in CWF, and I got into the main event without so much as breaking a sweat.
~Ceno rests his hands on the front plate of the CWF US title, clutching it.~
JC: But, as much as this means to me and to CWF, it should send a message to the rest of the OPW. The gruelling match I was in to secure this win alone should be enough to show all of you that I am beyond ready to hang with the rest of you, that I am beyond capable of standing up against the worst you could ever dish out, that I am beyond able to come into the Triple Jeopardy match and display the potential and perseverance it takes to beat Anicka, Apathy, El Gran Luchadore... Set them up, and I will throw everything it takes to knock them all down.
~While Ceno is particularly vocal with his right hand, his left side doesn’t move too much. It still ached from the mild attack he suffered.~
JC: Sure, I had a setback while hitting the gym, but I still have lots of time before showtime, which means lots of time to recover, get my cardio in check and get my body to prime condition for a six-man tag match. I’ll have just the right amount of time to rest in the meantime.
~Ceno is visibly pained when he stretches his left arm out, his right hand slightly gripping his chest as he growls.~
JC: This will be nothing in no time; I can only become stronger from here! Vhodka and Ariel can have their fun on Twitter, try to make me look weak and inferior, but they don’t know what it feels like to be truly inferior, truly weak; I will show them what it is to feel weak and inferior, as I put them down, one at a time, and pin either of them to the canvas!
~The pain continues to plague the Firestorm, but he trudges forward, wanting badly to work this out and get back to the gym, against doctor’s orders.~
JC: But this is more than just a six-man tag team match; after the first team goes, I will be facing my teammates, Redrum and John Reaper. Frankly, I don’t even know who Redrum is, but, from what I’ve seen of John Reaper, I think I’ve been thrown into the goth match, not that I mind too much. Between focusing on the match and focusing on the opponents, I’ll be fighting to not be attracted to the gothic style that I’ve seen in Vhodka’s images on Twitter; I will be in that ring, and I’ll see only one thing: an opponent to beat. I’ve burned myself far too often to let such stupidity get the better of me, so womanly wiles will not whittle my will!
~Ceno pauses for a moment, not knowing how he got that tongue twister out without stumbling over his words.~
JC: But Mr. John Reaper seems to be quite the subject of his own parody; nevertheless, I will be sure to make sure he does his fair share of the work, regardless of the blood he spills from his own body. You could be in control of all the spooky spectres and spirits out there, but, while we are together in this match, do not cross me, or you will be praying to whatever dark deity you worship for saving.
~Taking another second to compose himself, he starts popping his knuckles.~
JC: But I’ve been in a few tag matches; I know how to work with someone very well. If Mr. Reaper is as imposing a figure as he claims to be, it should be interesting to see how we’ll fare together. However, I can’t wait to see, either, how well I’ll fare against Mr. Big N. Ugly. I was just thinking about how many Johns there are: John Wick, John Rambo, John Boy. There are probably more, but they seem so much more trouble than they’re worth.
~James points at the lens, arm muscles bulging and chest flexed tightly.~
JC: Don’t give me any trouble until after that second bell rings, or else you won’t be walking to the back. I’m not afraid of your ghosts, nor am I gullible enough for your tricks; for ANY of your tricks too, ladies. I’ve been in this game for a very long time, and being gone for 10 years doesn’t mean anything to me; I mourn for your love lost, Vhodka, but pity gets you nothing in this business; you probably know a thing or two about getting down on all fours with that decade away though.
~James starts to laugh.~
JC: But honestly, I think the biggest joke being told is Ms. Ariel Shadows. I did some reading (shocking, I know) and, quite frankly, the “bunch of other stuff” means nothing to being double champion in Action Wrestling, but who cares about AW? This is OPW. What’s more, you’re not a champion either. What does that make you? You’re just another divorced trollop. You’re just another lonely woman who had to go soul searching in order to find her way back to a semblance of normalcy.
~James takes a minute to pause, considering his words.~
JC: By no means do I mean to bash you for choices far outside my control, such as the results of your love lives. You live; you love; sometimes, you lose. I’m one such loser in love, many times over, and it will probably continue until the day I die, but there is one thing I would stake everything on: my ability to win when it matters most; my potential to beat anyone and everyone when given a chance. So, I say to all five of you, both ally and enemy, that I am going to be marking my targets and firing my payload when the time is just right, leaving only The Firestorm standing in the centre of the ring, in possession of the briefcase that will catapult me to the top of this organization. CWF didn’t know what hit them; I had only two matches, and I came away with their US title around my waist. That is my truth; that is my ability; that is my potential.
~The camera zooms back in on Ceno’s face, head and shoulders alone in the frame as one big bolt of lightning goes off in the background, fire rising from under the frame, but the fire did not come from the green screen...~
JC: And OPW will learn very quickly of my potential to wreck some serious shit, whether I’m blowing Blair Buchanan away or I’m exterminating Apathy and Anicka for that top prize in this company. I will stand tall, and I will burn it all... down.
~The scene fades to black, flames still in the foreground, before they fade away into nothing.~
This time, it’s an Outlaw Professional Wrestling pay-per-view card.
But for this match, I’m bringing some extra pressure, a little onus to be better, bigger, stronger than the rest.
I am the CWF United States Heavyweight Champion.
What does that make me?
Who cares; this is a different place, a different company.
While they’ll show me the respect a champion deserves, it’s a rival company all the same.
Right?
I’ll be shown the respect that a champion deserves, because it takes a lot to win a championship in this industry.
Shouldn’t I?
Damn this anxiety and panic.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just feel pressure.
It’s quite painful...
Wait, that’s not... oh shit.
~The headline on the TV screen held no secrets. It was very, VERY clear: “Wrestler suffers small heart attack in gym”. The reporters weren’t too friendly about it either. They weren’t malicious. They were merely following the teleprompter.~
NR: Live on the scene just outside Gold’s Gym here in LA, the ambulance has already taken James Ceno, known in the wrestling community as “The Firestorm”, to the hospital. The cause is likely some form of stress, but no one can be too sure until results come back from his tests upon arrival. All we can do is hope for the best, as he will be a part of another wrestling promotion’s show, here in LA. Back to you in the newsroom...
AN: Thank you for the report. James Ceno is not well-liked; the subject of public ridicule and outrage, Ceno had a controversial turn in a wrestling promotion based in Baltimore, where fans say he became “sadistic”, “creepy”, and some more say “a rapist”. We here will not cast any judgment here, as it wouldn’t be fair and would show bias.
CO-AN: He is a multi-time champion with a cult following, however allegations of sexual misconduct and harassment have led to his downfall and unpopularity. In the years he spent away, he was arrested 3 times for drunk and disorderly conduct and was hospitalized for drug overdose. We wish him the best in his recovery.
~Okay, so they weren’t so bad. In either case, James Ceno is in an ambulance, heading to the closest hospital with cardiac care.
He was still awake too, the adrenaline from the pain and from the exercise still forcing him to live through the agony. It was like nothing he had ever felt before; even withdrawal was nicer to him than this, and the withdrawal came from needing to detox after overdosing.
Once again, he was in jeopardy, and it would be before the Triple Jeopardy match no less.~
~In the hospital room, Ceno was intubated with a EKG going. He was semi-conscious, the mixture of medicines sedating him enough to keep him awake, as to not affect the readings. His mind, altered by the concoction of medications coursing through him, already started to project images of things that he didn’t think he’d see, such as the images of two of his opponents, taken as if they were off Twitter, and they hovered over the hospital bed. He didn’t move, as if wrapped up in sleep paralysis, as he watched these two women just be there.
He had to focus, to close his eyes and remind himself that it was just a dream. As he pushed himself to forget the visions, he could hear the alert sounding from the machine.
He was in distress, and he was putting out irregular numbers.
At least, they would be irregular for a healthy athlete of his caliber; he’s not healthy.
Even after two years, he was able to beat himself up enough to affect his body, pushing it to the brink.
It was more than the brink of life or death; it was the brink of retirement.
He took his time and slowed his breathing as they took the tube out of his throat, keeping him hooked up to oxygen as they continue their scans. He sighs, closing his eyes and slowly falling asleep.~
I am a worm before I am a man.
I was a creature before I could stand.
I’ll remember before I... forget.
~Thunder rolled as the scene slowly faded in from black, displaying the black clouds overhead. Lightning streaked across the clouds as the wind moved with great chaotic force. Walking in front of the scene, illuminated by spotlights, is The Firestorm, having not yet removed the sensors on his chest, as shown under his singlet.
He was using the old-school green screen, a flashback from the 80’s. The storm was raging behind him, and there was a storm raging inside him.~
JC: Behold, and be aware that you are looking at CWF’s new United States Heavyweight Champion.
~Ceno gestures towards his midsection, and the camera zooms out to include the belt in the frame, the plate etched with his name standing out.~
JC: I got to liberate this from the current world champ, Grant Ralton Jr, and Junior may think his title is safe, but he got to feel the furious fervour of the Firestorm. He now knows to watch his back if he wants to try trashing me again. My second match in CWF, and I got into the main event without so much as breaking a sweat.
~Ceno rests his hands on the front plate of the CWF US title, clutching it.~
JC: But, as much as this means to me and to CWF, it should send a message to the rest of the OPW. The gruelling match I was in to secure this win alone should be enough to show all of you that I am beyond ready to hang with the rest of you, that I am beyond capable of standing up against the worst you could ever dish out, that I am beyond able to come into the Triple Jeopardy match and display the potential and perseverance it takes to beat Anicka, Apathy, El Gran Luchadore... Set them up, and I will throw everything it takes to knock them all down.
~While Ceno is particularly vocal with his right hand, his left side doesn’t move too much. It still ached from the mild attack he suffered.~
JC: Sure, I had a setback while hitting the gym, but I still have lots of time before showtime, which means lots of time to recover, get my cardio in check and get my body to prime condition for a six-man tag match. I’ll have just the right amount of time to rest in the meantime.
~Ceno is visibly pained when he stretches his left arm out, his right hand slightly gripping his chest as he growls.~
JC: This will be nothing in no time; I can only become stronger from here! Vhodka and Ariel can have their fun on Twitter, try to make me look weak and inferior, but they don’t know what it feels like to be truly inferior, truly weak; I will show them what it is to feel weak and inferior, as I put them down, one at a time, and pin either of them to the canvas!
~The pain continues to plague the Firestorm, but he trudges forward, wanting badly to work this out and get back to the gym, against doctor’s orders.~
JC: But this is more than just a six-man tag team match; after the first team goes, I will be facing my teammates, Redrum and John Reaper. Frankly, I don’t even know who Redrum is, but, from what I’ve seen of John Reaper, I think I’ve been thrown into the goth match, not that I mind too much. Between focusing on the match and focusing on the opponents, I’ll be fighting to not be attracted to the gothic style that I’ve seen in Vhodka’s images on Twitter; I will be in that ring, and I’ll see only one thing: an opponent to beat. I’ve burned myself far too often to let such stupidity get the better of me, so womanly wiles will not whittle my will!
~Ceno pauses for a moment, not knowing how he got that tongue twister out without stumbling over his words.~
JC: But Mr. John Reaper seems to be quite the subject of his own parody; nevertheless, I will be sure to make sure he does his fair share of the work, regardless of the blood he spills from his own body. You could be in control of all the spooky spectres and spirits out there, but, while we are together in this match, do not cross me, or you will be praying to whatever dark deity you worship for saving.
~Taking another second to compose himself, he starts popping his knuckles.~
JC: But I’ve been in a few tag matches; I know how to work with someone very well. If Mr. Reaper is as imposing a figure as he claims to be, it should be interesting to see how we’ll fare together. However, I can’t wait to see, either, how well I’ll fare against Mr. Big N. Ugly. I was just thinking about how many Johns there are: John Wick, John Rambo, John Boy. There are probably more, but they seem so much more trouble than they’re worth.
~James points at the lens, arm muscles bulging and chest flexed tightly.~
JC: Don’t give me any trouble until after that second bell rings, or else you won’t be walking to the back. I’m not afraid of your ghosts, nor am I gullible enough for your tricks; for ANY of your tricks too, ladies. I’ve been in this game for a very long time, and being gone for 10 years doesn’t mean anything to me; I mourn for your love lost, Vhodka, but pity gets you nothing in this business; you probably know a thing or two about getting down on all fours with that decade away though.
~James starts to laugh.~
JC: But honestly, I think the biggest joke being told is Ms. Ariel Shadows. I did some reading (shocking, I know) and, quite frankly, the “bunch of other stuff” means nothing to being double champion in Action Wrestling, but who cares about AW? This is OPW. What’s more, you’re not a champion either. What does that make you? You’re just another divorced trollop. You’re just another lonely woman who had to go soul searching in order to find her way back to a semblance of normalcy.
~James takes a minute to pause, considering his words.~
JC: By no means do I mean to bash you for choices far outside my control, such as the results of your love lives. You live; you love; sometimes, you lose. I’m one such loser in love, many times over, and it will probably continue until the day I die, but there is one thing I would stake everything on: my ability to win when it matters most; my potential to beat anyone and everyone when given a chance. So, I say to all five of you, both ally and enemy, that I am going to be marking my targets and firing my payload when the time is just right, leaving only The Firestorm standing in the centre of the ring, in possession of the briefcase that will catapult me to the top of this organization. CWF didn’t know what hit them; I had only two matches, and I came away with their US title around my waist. That is my truth; that is my ability; that is my potential.
~The camera zooms back in on Ceno’s face, head and shoulders alone in the frame as one big bolt of lightning goes off in the background, fire rising from under the frame, but the fire did not come from the green screen...~
JC: And OPW will learn very quickly of my potential to wreck some serious shit, whether I’m blowing Blair Buchanan away or I’m exterminating Apathy and Anicka for that top prize in this company. I will stand tall, and I will burn it all... down.
~The scene fades to black, flames still in the foreground, before they fade away into nothing.~