Perfection is standing in a single lane on an empty driving range. The night time lights are on as James is lining up a shot, his cigar in his mouth. His arms come back and take a swing at the ball that just sits there. The camera doesn't follow the shot but stays focused on Perfection who pulls the cigar from his mouth and looks at the camera.
“You'd be lying to yourself, Ungratefuls, if you expected a different result at the last Victory. You'd be in denial if you didn't agree that what you witnessed wasn't what I told you you'd see…the beginning of my rebirth!”
He ashes the cigar as a new golf ball comes up from the ground via an automatic feeder.
“Lew Smith put up one hell of a fight, Ungratefuls, I'll hand him that. But that's not enough to get the job done, obviously...especially standing across the ring from ME! Having ambition, having the want to win…is nothing! It's about NEEDING the win, being hungry for it… knowing you deserve to be in MY ring and proving it!”
Witherhold adjusts his stance, widening it. Before he decides for a new swing he rests the club against his body and adjusts his glove. The velcro is like nails on a chalkboard.
“I proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt…and without cheating whatsoever…”
Perfection winks at the camera.
“I took the first win of my return, Ungratefuls…and with each new opponent, the peasants that dance in my court that IS Victory…each one that I break- I'll prove my right to have another shot at MY World Title!”
James takes a swing at the ball. This time the camera follows, easily a three hundred fifty yard drive in which he takes pride in.
“That's what this industry is about, claiming the top belt. This entire company, UTA’s, focus is separating the wheat from the chaff! Either you grow this company, becoming the very nutrients it needs to survive or you can be discarded! Hell, ask Spectre, ask Alex Beckman, ask Second Coming, ask ANYONE that's not ‘Perfection’ how it feels to be the chaff!”
Perfection points the tip of his golf club grip towards himself.
“Then, look at me. Take a glimpse at what it looks like to be the wheat!”
His body uses the club to prop himself up. Fully turned to the camera Perfection takes a few puffs of his Cuban.
“Yet, Ungratefuls, even grain, such as myself, needs it's own nutrients to grow stronger and spread itself across the field. Hence why I need you, Stephen Greer.”
James rotates the stogie in his hand, emphasizing each word with it.
“You're my water, my dirt, the nutrients that I'll rape from the lands…OF WHICH I'VE OWNED! Solidification seems like a word so unworthy for you, how could such an insignificant piece of the Team Danger puzzle…hell, the UTA puzzle play a role in my rise?”
He grabs the club and begins to line up his swing again. James takes a shot down the driving range as he just watches the ball soar.
“But that's what it is, Stephen- solidification of my right, my presence and MY name! It's planting your ass to MY canvass that will help me reach my goals since my resigning! And what a better opponent the powers that be could have given me to prove that very point! To unknowingly give me a man that has so much…”
Letting the club drop against him he begins to make finger quotes.
“… ‘prominence’ in this industry…to be crushed under my boot! Then again…I should be afraid…I should fear Eric Dane’s puppet!”
For a minute Perfection looks scared...until we realize it’s all just sarcasm.
“Hell, you're part of Team Danger! Look at the iconic moment your stable is living in, Stephen. Your handler, Eric Dane, will sign his contract with my former friend La Flama Blanca for his shot at MY belt and you have the pleasure and opportunity to lose on the same night to me!”
James gives his full attention to the club as he swings at a new ball, and the camera follows the ball down the field this time before turning back to him.
“I get to stand tall as the first one to put a dent into Team Danger leading into International Affairs. Then after, Eduardo gets his chance by kicking the teeth out of your pal, Eric Dane! Opening a chance for my shot to claim what's rightfully MINE!”
He breathes deep a few times collecting himself.
“But first, before I'm handed back what I deserve, I must defeat you. Trust me, Stephen, I know it will be no easy feat. I mean, look at you- the former Legacy Champion for a whole sixty seconds! An accomplishment I'm sure you're proud of. Why wouldn't you be?”
Sarcasm again begins to drip off every word he speaks while lining up a new shot.
“You're the one minute champ and second rate tag team partner. You held the tag team titles, which… to be honest... is nothing to look past. I held those titles with PRIDE at one point too, Stephen!”
Now he takes a swing and to his perspective of the ball it shanks left. He sighs shaking his head at the direction.
“Even if it was me that carried the team, no one was or will be as damn good as La Flama Blanca and I with those now defunct belts! Not that failed group of Legends, not 'Too Idiotic for a Name', not the Shoot Queens, and certainly NOT you or any part of Team Danger!”
Perfection looks at the automatic feed waiting for the next ball impatiently.
“The only difference is, those belts were taken from ME by Wingate to shake up the company at All or Nothing… and the belts were taken from you because you couldn't stop fans from going for popcorn when your music hit!”
Now it finally comes, the ball he’s been waiting for.
“You did such a poor job of representing tag team wrestling, you couldn't hold that weak excitement when the smarks found out Team Danger was in the UTA, that the company disbanded the titles!”
He swings, taking the ball at least two to three hundred yards.
“Not only did you fail at holding on to the Legacy title for longer than it takes that loser Colton Thorpe to beat off, you couldn't even make the ONLY thing you do semi-well interesting enough! You and Team Danger had one job, Stephen, tag team wrestling. It's the entire reason they brought you to UTA.”
The club in his hand gets double gripped and slammed against the green a few times before he takes one hand off the club and points it at the camera.
“And you couldn't even hack it at that! You dropped the ball hard enough that your partner, Tyrone Walker, even bailed! Now you'll fail as a singles wrestler. No one cares about Eric Dane’s lackey, Stephen, and no one can take you seriously…except for ‘Yours Truly’!”
One shot, that’s all that matters. Yet this time, he sends the golf ball that’s been fed and waiting down range. Perfect.
“That's right, I care about this match and beating you more than you realize. You're welcome by the way, that I have at least found a purpose for you! That I WILL make you something other than ‘that other guy from Team Danger’ and elevate you to ‘that other guy from Team Danger that Perfection beat’. You get your face planted on my boot heel, permanently a part of my highlight reel!”
He smiles sliding the club into his golf bag.
“That's how the Ungratefuls will remember you, Stephen and I don't mind it one bit!”
"I am the cosmic storms, I am the tiny worms, I am fear in the night, I am bringer of blight!"
- Crimson Lord