The camera cuts into the casino portion of the Sapphire Princess’ Grand Casino. Perfection is wearing a pair of brown Armani dress shoes, grey slacks, sunglasses, and a Tommy Bahama Hawaiian sport shirt. He’s sitting in a chair that’s in front of a slot machine. A straw in his mouth from one on the multiple drinks that sit on a table next to him that are empty. There is only one drink on the table full, Ketel One on the rocks.
“It feels good to be at the focus of all their hate, Ungratefuls. To be the man management wants to hold down but can’t. To be the best damn superstar to ever grace the UTA and treated like scum. ”
He pulls the sunglasses down so his eyes peek over and pulls the straw from his mouth waving it around at the casino floor behind him.
“Look around, you see these conditions? This is what the UTA management thinks of me, it thinks I belong on this peasant barge. There’s something wrong...something quite not right, Ungratefuls, when I’m sitting here in this trashhole of a casino.”
Both hands come out from his chest.
“I beat Stephen Greer and secured his pay-per-view spot, I went out there on Victory and put out the best damn work I have in months. Which should have meant rescheduling Proving Grounds and letting me relax at home! It means that entire match I just had with Yeshua...which I won...should never had happened!”
James points towards the ground.
"Yet…here I am…”
His face turns to one of “yup, I’m guilty” as his hands follow up in the same manner.
“In the very spot I shouldn’t be! I sit here, Ungratefuls, because there’s no respect for me because management wants to try and burn me out! Which is fine, I got what I wanted regardless! I got Greer’s spot in the title shot match...a step closer to taking back MY UTA World Championship! I took control of MY destiny! If I would have just beat Greer and ‘phoned it in’, he’d be on his way to International Affairs and I would be right here with nothing.”
James calms down a bit before pulling the reel of the slot machine behind him and turning his attention back to us.
“But I didn’t phone it in. I wanted to break him, I wanted to show the powers that are that I mean it when I say I want my belt back! I said from the very start that I would take the title, that I would do ANYTHING in my power to have another chance to claim what is rightfully MINE!"
The UTA title is his, always has been. James cracks his neck before running his hand through his hair.
"You're damn right it's mine, Ungratefuls. It doesn't matter whose waist it's sitting on temporarily, that title was taken from me illegitimately! I don't remember being pinned for the UTA Championship to have been taken from me- I don't recall tapping my hand on the mat and surrendering MY belt...do you?"
Witherhold begins to shake his head answering the question for us.
"No...the UTA World Championship was STOLEN from me, Ungratefuls…do you understand that?! I was ROBBED by some idiotic wrestling roulette game called All or Nothing!”
In Perfection’s fit of anger he takes the glasses off his eyes and points them towards the camera as a distant slot machine goes off indicating a win.
“You think I wanted any part of that mess?! You think I wanted to put my belt on the line just because James Wingate wanted to ‘shake things up’? Please! Let me educate you idiots, the only reason why All or Nothing even exists is because of ME! It was made to shake me off the top! A sad attempt to get me out of the title picture! Wingate wanted me so far gone from any title that he had to put thirty-nine others against me.”
Perfection crushes his sunglasses in his hand and lets them fall to the floor.
“My title was stolen by Wingate when Sean Jackson decided to throw me over the top rope and NOT put my shoulders down for three! Now...finally...by beating three other wrestlers I get a match to reclaim what is mine!”
His hand shoots up and and begins to tap a finger on his chest.
“I get a step closer because I CRUSHED Stephen Greer! I BROKE him...put his ass on the injured list for the unforeseeable future! I saw the potential of getting his spot on the pay-per-view and did whatever I needed to, I saw that there would be no other option than to put me in his place if I took him out!”
He scoots to the edge of the seat, his finger shaking up and down as he smiles.
“And I was right. Without Wingate to direct Michel Lorenzo, he did just that! He did the one thing the boss, if he wasn’t lazy and actually showed his pathetic face at the shows, wouldn’t have done!”
A chuckle escapes behind his sneering.
“However, I didn’t get Greer’s spot just because I beat him around. I didn’t get it because THEY respect my work, Ungratefuls! I got his spot because there was no other choice, there was no one else to pull the draw from Victory and fill the spot other than me.”
Raising his arms up he starts to shake his head.
“It’s not because I’m the best, which I AM; but because they had their manipulative hands tied! They refuse to see my want, my NEED to have the belt back in MY hands! That I will do anything to have the World Championship strapped around my waist! That I’ll win another match I’m not meant to. They seem to forget, that when the odds have been stacked against me I have EXCELLED!”
Perfection begins to smile as he flicks the straw at the camera.
“Scott Stevens, Quinlan, Zhalia Fears, as good as they are…I’ll do worse to them than I did Stephen Greer if it means one step closer to MY championship! I’d love to get my hands on Zhalia Fears again, Ungratefuls...I’d love to beat her back into sanity. I enjoyed every second slapping her around during The Champion’s Ball...I’ll enjoy it even more to get MY belt!”
All the yelling has makes Witherhold reach over to the table and grab the full glass of liquor.
“Unlike my resentment of Fears, I have nothing against Stevens or Quinlan. Potential up-and-comers who are about to get their first big chance in the UTA and that’s fine.”
Stirring the drink in his hand Perfection leans back into the chair.
“Lay down on MY canvass and go after the Prodigy belt! Kiss MY canvass with a Photo Finish and have your run for the Wildfire Championship! You are in MY way...and I’ll roll over you just like I have people before you when it comes to my ring and MY UTA World Championship!”
He takes a long drink.
“You think you’re ready to lead the biggest company in our industry? To have the weight of THEM on you, trying to screw you at every turn? Heh, I doubt it…yet, I live it! Show by show, booking by booking…the attempts to side-wind me, to bury me! Even the Ungratefuls, as dull as they are, can see it! However, now, THEY made a mistake…they put me against….you three.”
James begins to let out a bellowing laugh.
“And who are…you…to stop ME?! Who is Scott Stevens but another deserter from a company being crushed by UTA’s ratings thanks to ‘Yours Truly’? Who is Quinlan compared to ME?! Who is Zhalia Fears, other than some girl latched on to two people that don’t even wrestle here anymore and a failed star about to get another good look at the heel of my boot?!”
Perfection stands up from the chair.
“If Scott Stevens thinks who he wrestled against in High Octane were difficult...he…hasn’t…seen…me! If Fears thinks what Eduardo did to her was punishment, Ungratefuls, she hasn’t a single iota of what it looks like when I want what is MINE!”
Raising the glass he downs the rest of the drink before slamming it on the side table. His finger shoots at the camera.
“I TAKE what is mine! Be it money, be it weak women…such as Fears, Ungratefuls…or be it winning my matches- I do whatever I have to do to get what I want! I will steal, I will cheat, and I will lie! I WILL win this match and have a shot at the belt that was unjustly TAKEN from me!”
Crossing his arms he begins to nod.
“And I will win my belt back, don’t you doubt me, Ungratefuls. All I have to do is be the one man standing at the top...”
The idea crosses his mind, a grin sliding across his lips.
“Hell, who am I kidding…”
Perfection begins to walk off camera.
“I’ve always been at the top.”
"Yo momma's so fat she can't even jump to a conclusion."
- Kirk Irving